Sure, it's a conveniently-sized, oh-so-tidy spot for me to store all my music, from the quirky to the glorious to the gloriously quirky. Sure, I've listened to everything on it at least once. But as the song count on my iPod approaches the 5,000 mark, I have to wonder if I'm not the musical embodiment of The Rich Fool.
It looks like Terry Teachout is in a frame of mind somewhat similar to my own.
3 comments:
Between your basement cleaning project and the linked post of "Traveling Light" (which also happens to be the title of a fabulous album by Peggy Lee) I am in a state of extreme agita.
Thank You...erghhhhhhh!:LK@!IO@!_(
(I am most definitely NOT letting the Ever-Loving Wife near your site for a while...She might get ideas..)
WP,
...while Mr. Teachout makes a storng and valid argument for pruning one's possessions, I believe he leaves out one important point. Unlike you or I (excuse me if I'm putting you in with bad company), how much of the books and the music inventory required purchase through his own use of funds? Having parted with some shekels of one's own, IMHO, makes the parting of possesive ways a tad harder. The heart, the mind, and the pocket are all involved with each item's departure.
Or am I gooign down the self-delusionary path here?
My own "keep or toss" criteria was given to me early by a Lit grad who asked me to care for his digs during Christmas vacation. He and I worked at the same bookstore, but even so I was bowled over by reinforcement of triple-loaded bookshelves in an abode that was considerably larger than my own. When he returned I commented on the collection, and he said, "I only keep the books I'm reasonably certain I'll be reading again."
I do not hew closely to that criterion, nor, I suspect, did he. But it hit me hard enough to suggest I could winnow my purchasing (and shelving) options to books I might actually, someday, read.
As for Mr. T. and his kind, you are right to point out the difference, because it is considerable. Even I, as a worker in the trenches, received tonnes of literary swag. I can't imagine what a pro reviewer/biographer gets lofted his way: CDs, books, concerts, and paraphernalia of every conceivable stripe. I may be bathing in riches, but the trove is mean compared to his Scrooge McDuck-like bins.
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