The Crap We Put Up With

Every day, I come home and sit at my computer desk. On my desk are two toys. One is a 1/24 scale model of a 1957 Chevy Corvette, the first model I ever completed. I have no idea why I keep it, or the plastic James Hetfield figure on my desk, but I cannot bring myself to throw them away. Why do I keep these things? They have no true value, nor do they have any (that I am aware of) true sentimental value. I didn't win my father's love for the first time by assembling a model car, nor did I ever see Metallica in concert. I like they way they look, but they look out of place on my desk. As I look around my house, I see many more objects that don't mean anything. The baseball signed in faded ink by the 1994 Houston Astros that I signed my Dad up for at a silent auction. A cedar case with over a thousand stamps that were given to me by my uncle who got tired of trying to sort them.

Why do we keep things like this? Is it some forced attachment to the past that we feel we must endure in our daily lives? It's not just limited to physical items. We all keep almost every digital photograph we've taken. And because there's no processing or film fee, we take more. When I shoot photos, I take three or four of every shot. I keep every one, even if it's extremely blurry, or as I call them, "artistic."

Decide for yourself why you keep these things, but I keep them to know where I came from. They're proof of improvements I've made, and show that I can do better next time, knowing what I do now.