How Weird Is That!
I have always been strangely intrigued and repulsed by the items one finds at truck stops. When I travel, walking through the isles on the way to the restroom is one of my secret joys. Perhaps I am on some mental quest to find the most "bizarre" thing ever so I can tell my travel companion about it. Or perhaps I am trying to reconcile, in my mind, the product and the kind of person who would pick it up, look at the price on the bottom, and then decide, after months of being away from their family, that rattlesnake in a can, blow up dolls, candy swords or tequila worm pops are the "perfect" present! I would have never thought of eating armadillo jerky and maybe the fact that someone else did, intrigues me.
I am in the process of moving and over the last decade have accumulated a tremendous amount of "stuff". Moving forces me to go through all of my closets and drawers and re-visit those items long-forgotten and destined for the donation pile. But what has surprised me, is how many things I have that I cannot remember what they are for or where they came from. Most are new and have all of their parts, but how I came to to own them and have never used them is a mystery to me. Other things are equally baffling. I have never in my life seen so many mismatched screws, rubber stoppers, random matchbooks from places I never remember visiting and post-it note phone numbers in all of my life! And then there are the other items that clearly have a purpose, but are so contrary to my tastes, that I wonder who would have ever given it me and why I would have kept it for so long.
This brings me back to my original point. Perhaps we are not defined by the things we own. Living in a materialistic society, we are constantly getting and giving things...some we want, others we don't. Maybe the things we don't want we keep for fear of hurting the person's feelings who gave it to us. Or maybe we think there will be a time in the future when the object will come in handy. Or maybe we believe we know someone who would love it more than we would and we see a chance for re-gifting.
If I were to die tomorrow, someone would have a hard time coming in behind me and making sense of my world. I have my own organizational system and my own way of storing things. Things that make me laugh, other people might say are stupid. Newspaper clippings I have saved because they prompted me to act or to gave me a new idea to write about, others would think were trash. Items that are of sentimental value to me only, would be garage sale fodder for someone else. It's all relative.
I think it's great that I live in a country where someone can appreciate the items at truck stops. Maybe those things bring a smile or a warm feeling to someone who spends most of their time alone. Just because I don't appreciate it or see what purpose those things might serve, doesn't mean that others don't.
Tolerance comes in a variety of forms. As I am going through the last ten years of my life by looking at objects I once considered important, I realize my opinions and tastes have changed over the years. Things that I can no longer use, I am donating. I hope that they bring joy into the lives of someone who needs it. The things I am keeping, I am working hard to re-organize better. If I am going to keep something with me, I should know I have it and use it regularly. Otherwise, what's the point?
It sounds simple, but appreciating diversity comes in a variety of forms. There are billions of people in the world, and everyone has different backgrounds and experiences that influence who they are and what they like. It is important that we remind ourselves of these differences! Then and only then can the items at the truck stop take on a new and more relevant meaning!
I am in the process of moving and over the last decade have accumulated a tremendous amount of "stuff". Moving forces me to go through all of my closets and drawers and re-visit those items long-forgotten and destined for the donation pile. But what has surprised me, is how many things I have that I cannot remember what they are for or where they came from. Most are new and have all of their parts, but how I came to to own them and have never used them is a mystery to me. Other things are equally baffling. I have never in my life seen so many mismatched screws, rubber stoppers, random matchbooks from places I never remember visiting and post-it note phone numbers in all of my life! And then there are the other items that clearly have a purpose, but are so contrary to my tastes, that I wonder who would have ever given it me and why I would have kept it for so long.
This brings me back to my original point. Perhaps we are not defined by the things we own. Living in a materialistic society, we are constantly getting and giving things...some we want, others we don't. Maybe the things we don't want we keep for fear of hurting the person's feelings who gave it to us. Or maybe we think there will be a time in the future when the object will come in handy. Or maybe we believe we know someone who would love it more than we would and we see a chance for re-gifting.
If I were to die tomorrow, someone would have a hard time coming in behind me and making sense of my world. I have my own organizational system and my own way of storing things. Things that make me laugh, other people might say are stupid. Newspaper clippings I have saved because they prompted me to act or to gave me a new idea to write about, others would think were trash. Items that are of sentimental value to me only, would be garage sale fodder for someone else. It's all relative.
I think it's great that I live in a country where someone can appreciate the items at truck stops. Maybe those things bring a smile or a warm feeling to someone who spends most of their time alone. Just because I don't appreciate it or see what purpose those things might serve, doesn't mean that others don't.
Tolerance comes in a variety of forms. As I am going through the last ten years of my life by looking at objects I once considered important, I realize my opinions and tastes have changed over the years. Things that I can no longer use, I am donating. I hope that they bring joy into the lives of someone who needs it. The things I am keeping, I am working hard to re-organize better. If I am going to keep something with me, I should know I have it and use it regularly. Otherwise, what's the point?
It sounds simple, but appreciating diversity comes in a variety of forms. There are billions of people in the world, and everyone has different backgrounds and experiences that influence who they are and what they like. It is important that we remind ourselves of these differences! Then and only then can the items at the truck stop take on a new and more relevant meaning!