On the other hand

After my paen to the physicality of the book, I’ll let you know that for the past, oh, six years or so, I’ve been on a mission to purge actual, physical books from my life.

Michael and I both brought a lot of books into our marriage.  Then, since he was in publishing, we accumulated more, without even trying. They just came to us.  So several years ago, I decided enough was enough and I started in on them.

I gave them away to parish libraries (mostly the Cathedral in Fort Wayne) and to rummage sales run by Catholic organizations, and those of more general interest I donated to Goodwill or the Salvation Army or the Friends of the Library used bookstore.  I gave away hundreds and hundreds of books. Then when Michael died, I had more to dispense with – I kept those that interested me, and some that particularly represented him both to me and in a way I thought would communicate important aspects of him to his sons.  And then when I moved into this house, I dug into my own books again. There was some obscure intution of justice that demanded it – I mean, I gave away so much of his books, so it was only fair that  I make some sacrifices, too, you know? (I know, it makes no sense, but one’s definitions of “sense” shift constantly in the wake of a sudden death).

But there were other factors, too.  I had moved my books four times in the last twelve years or so, and even when it’s happening within the same town, it’s such a hassle. And they’re so bloody heavy.  And as I packed and unpacked, I’d just think, am I really going to read this book ever again? Some I’d kept in the hope that I would, others, thinking that I surely would need these again, still others I kept, thinking that one of my children would need this someday, and still others I hauled around because they reminded me of being a teenager and devouring Thomas Hardy and Jane Austen or Rex Stout  or my college years or something.

So while I’ve never been a hoarder and am fairly unattached to material objects…

(I have many sins, but that’s not one of them – it used to frustrate my parents when they would ask me what I wanted for Christmas. I would shrug and say “Nothing.” I don’t mention that as a point of pride – for, as I said, my weaknesses are many  – but I really don’t yearn for stuff, nor do I cling to it…except for those books…and I’ll blow money on travel. That’s my worst money-resource-materialist type of weakness, probably.)

….I have carted these books around with me for while. And what I learned over the past almost twenty months is that, well, you can’t take it with you. And when people go, no matter what they leave behind, it isn’t them.  I value a certain number of concrete, symbolic objects in my life that remind me of the past, of Mike, of my mother, of my children when they were young, but hoarding as many as I can,  and clinging to them when really, you don’t need them, others might be able to use them or your letting go of them might help someone else in the funds they bring in felt like a useless exercise to me.

It’s odd. Some people take a lot of pride in their personal libraries, and that’s great.  For the past few years – accelerated of late – I’ve been on the opposite mission.  I want my personal library to be contained on a couple of bookcases, and I want to be willing to walk away from that, too, if need be.   I’m just in a p0int in life at which I don’t want to be weighed down.  I think I also have a heightened sense of responsibility about what I want to leave others to deal with when I die – which I’m not planning to do soon, but still.  It seems to me that just as preserving important mementos from the past is an act of love, so is leaving things as simple and uncomplicated as possible for my kids, who will be the ones dealing with it, is as well. Even f it doesn’t happen for twenty more years or so, no harm in starting to live that way now.

So I’ll read on my Kindle for the Droid, I’ll use the library, I’ll by a few books, which I’ll trade (many online means of doing so) when I’m finished…

Oh, and for the sake of total accuracy, we still have lots of children’s books.  I’m not getting rid of those, because that’s a different issue to me.  I think a childhood surrounded by one’s own books that can be turned to in any moment of boredom or curiosity is a good thing.

Plus, they don’t weigh as much.