Collect and Release

            Some people call it clutter, some call them knickknacks, some refer to it simply as “stuff” or affectionately as “junk.” Whatever it may be, our things tend to grab a hold on us.

            I have been watching episodes of the show “Hoarders” on Netflix. It’s a reality series that documents people who have accumulated junk and other items until their homes are completely uninhabitable. Some are filthy with rotting garbage all over, while others are just buried in their own possessions. Nearly all of them have severe emotional issues. Each seems to have endured some kind of personal tragedy that triggered their hoarding, or were raised by hoarders themselves and picked up where their parent had left off.

            But they all seemed to have lost something or lacked something (happy childhoods are rare for the people featured), and things seemed to take the place of the people or emotions that they missed. Piles of clothes will never leave you. Knickknacks won’t die and disappear from your life. When the show’s army of cleaners come in, you can see that each item they throw out - even the spoiled, soiled and useless ones – leave them feeling like they are throwing our pieces of themselves or their loved ones. What’s broken in these people can’t be fixed only by ridding their homes of old bank statements and old clothes.

            The line between collecting and hoarding can be tricky to navigate. As a kid I liked to hold on to things. Despite my love for the game, I was never a particularly big collector of baseball cards. My collecting was focused on comic books, Spider-Man comic books to be specific. I had boxes and boxes of them, which as far as I know are still calling my parents’ basement home. My room steadily shrunk as more boxes and piles of things grew in from the walls and closets. The room was still functional, and my parents certainly made me keep it sanitary, but it was crowded. Keeping the comic books made sense, but as a kid I had a hard time throwing much of anything away. I remember being amazed at my father tossing things like his old baseball gloves or other items I thought would have sentimental value but seemed to mean little to him.

            I left the comic books behind when I went away to college but I found new things to collect. Books and VHS tapes starting accumulating. I taped my favorite TV shows and didn’t erase them, and my tape collection ran into the hundreds. I held on to books as well and I lugged them around as I move to Illinois briefly, then to Indianapolis.

            It was easy to make excuses for keeping that stuff. I might want to watch the videos again. The books may be worth another read. The comic books might be worth some money, and so might the issues of Sports Illustrated I kept. When I moved into a house in Indy it was perfectly fine. We had moved from a one-bedroom apartment to a three-bedroom house. The empty spaces were awkward, and we went about filling them. Again, the house was clean and wasn’t cluttered. It just had these things stashed away.

            When my marriage broke up, I held on to most of those things. I moved to Louisville into a two-bedroom apartment, and the second bedroom became storage. It was filled with boxes of books, tapes and collectibles. For three years most of those things sat making a collection of their own – dust. Still, I didn’t throw them out. Part of it was the out of sight, out of mind thing as the boxes sat behind the closed door of that empty bedroom. Part of it was me just not wanting to get rid of things from when I lived happily with someone.

            But time passes, and eventually it was time to move again. I dreaded hauling all that stuff around again, so I did some difficult evaluating. I started with an easy one. When I started collecting TV shows on video, the concept of entire seasons of series coming out on DVD in high quality with extras just didn’t exist. Now that it does, throwing out grainy tapes of old TV shows became easy. I took hundreds of VHS tapes and sent them down the ramp into my old apartment’s trash compactor. Then something interesting happened. I thought throwing those things away would be traumatic, but instead the feeling I had was relief. I looked in another box and found a stack of books I hadn’t touched in years. I took them to Half-Price Books and got about twenty bucks or so. That felt good too, and not because the small sum of money. It felt good because the books were going back into circulation where someone else might be able to read them instead of being buried in a box, and it felt good because it created a little more space.

            After that, I had momentum on my side. I realized many of the boxes hadn’t been touched in the three years I lived in that place. Clothes and some of the furniture went to Goodwill. Other items found their way to the trash with the videotapes. When I moved, there was much less going in the truck.
            Getting rid of these things did not change anything inside of me. No memories faded just because a souvenir was no longer sitting in a box. The enjoyment I got from reading the magazines didn't go away because they were no longer sitting in a pile. What I learned from my books was not erased from my mind when I gave away or sold them. I was the same person, just one with less physical baggage to deal with. 

            Holding on to those things had not comforted me. It didn’t make things any easier for me. They didn’t reassure me, and they certainly were no substitute for being with someone who loved me. They were just things, and they were weighing me down.

            That process continued when I moved to my current place. I looked on the internet and saw that the issues of Sports Illustrated I’d collected weren’t worth that much. As it turns out, since I actually read every issue cover to cover (thus wrinkling up the pages) my issues weren’t mint condition and that’s the only way they’re worth anything at all. Even if they were in mint condition, so many copies of the magazine are printed they simply aren’t rare. Tossing those out felt good too. A second trip to Half-Price Books to clear some shelf space brought even more relief.

            I still have my Coca Cola collectibles, but I add to that collection very sparingly. I turn down knickknacks now and rarely purchase souvenirs. Instead I love to travel, see new things and meet new people. No videotape, magazine, book or trinket ever gave me as much happiness as doing something or seeing something I’d never seen or done before.

            The memories are the best things we have anyway, not the T-shirt you picked up on the way. It’s experiences I want to collect now, not stuff. 

Under My Nose

           I stood on toward the top of a set of concrete steps. From this spot I could see almost the entire thing. I had heard of it, knew it was a big deal, but had no idea as to its true scale. The cars, vans and motorhomes seemed to go on forever. And endless flow of people in various shades of green milled around. Almost every one of them seemed excited, even anxious, about what was to come.

            As I looked over the scene, I thought to myself, “How did this go on under my nose for four years?”

            I had intended to pay a visit to another annual event in Louisville last weekend – the St. James Art Fair. Hundreds of booths were lining the Old Louisville neighborhood as artists displayed their paintings, drawings, sculptures and other works. Last year I even commissioned a piece of art for the first time, so I was looking forward to seeing the artist again and thanking him. Those plans were cancelled, however, and as it turned out I witnessed a totally different city tradition.

Those of you who live in the Louisville area have probably figured out already where I was. I stood outside Papa John’s Stadium, where the University of Louisville plays its home games. I was not there for college football, however. I was there for some Friday Night Lights on a grander scale than I’d realized. I was there for the Trinity – St. Xavier game.

            This is the biggest rivalry in Kentucky football. The annual game between the two private Catholic high schools in Louisville has in fact grown to be one of the biggest games in the country. Both have won multiple state championships (Trinity in fact has won 20 of them and lost in four finals, so they are one year away from spending the equivalent of a quarter of a century playing for a championship).  They both have home stadiums with price tags in the multi-millions, enormous coaching staffs and numerous alumni in the top-level college football and even the NFL. It’s a little bit of Texas high school football dropped into the Ohio Valley.

            The schools have learned to capitalize on this, as the game has become a festival unto itself. It’s now held at Papa John’s Stadium. Bands play in tents in the parking lot, and the tailgating is simply epic. I went to the game with Ryan, a good friend of mine, who invited me to tag along with him right after he found out I had not attended before. He had made several trips and convinced me it was something I just had to see.

I was told both schools have alumni functions all week and many make the big game an excuse to take a vacation back, home. This made sense because the number of people I saw there far exceeded the student populations of the schools even if you added in their families.

            The stadium was surrounded by fans. I lived across the street from the stadium at Indiana University and I saw many game days there during my four years. I believe there were just as many cars, vans, and even motorhomes set up for this high school game as many of the Big Ten clashes I witnessed in Bloomington. The lots were absolutely full. Both teams have similar green and yellow colors, so green flags flew everywhere. The smell of burgers and brats cooked on hundreds of grills wafted through the air.

            The fans intermingled throughout the lot. Across the lot you could see footballs arcing through the air as kids played catch. People with Trinity shirts partied next door to families with St X painted on their faces, yet there was no trash talking and certainly no violence. The game was important, but hating the other side wasn’t. The students, alumni and families wanted their side to win badly, but they showed a lot of respect. It was everything a sports rivalry should be.

            The whole thing struck me as surreal as I took in the spectacle. A good friend of mine plays football in high school in Louisville. He’s the nephew of one of my best friends and I’ve been to his games. Even at the varsity level, there aren’t enough people in the stands to represent a parent for each of the players. That always struck me as profoundly sad. Those kids were practicing, working out, strapping on their pads and playing hard, and most of their parents couldn’t even be bothered to attend the games. I know some of them (and I do mean only some of them) may work nights. But really? That many work Friday nights? I’m not buying it. What could they possibly be doing that’s more important than seeing their son participate in an activity like this? They should be supporting these guys. If they have brothers and sisters, well bring them along too. High school football games are fun to watch if you’re a fan and a good social activity if you’re not. I’m not buying very many excuses when it comes to this.

            Anyway, those were not issues when it came to the St. X – Trinity game. Over 30,000 people poured into Papa John’s Stadium on a rapidly cooling evening. Ryan and I spotted seats at the 35 yard line and settled in. At the box office, we noted there were reserved seats being sold – for a high school game – but we had gotten general admission. As we sat there thousands more poured in, finding assigned seats all around us. We were prepared to be busted back to the end zone sections but we got lucky. No one came for ours.

            The game was close in the first half. The rivalry is fairly close as only a few wins separate the two schools. Trinity is ranked in the top 20 teams in the nation and St. X was going toe to toe with them. We were sitting on the Trinity side and despite the close score the fans seemed poised and confident. As it turned out, they should have been. The first half had drained St. X’s tank. The 14-6 halftime score blew up to a 41-6 Trinity rout, and by the final whistle Ryan and I were headed for the warmth of the car.

            I’m glad Ryan invited me. I got an eyeful of a massive rivalry, one that showed to me what the good side of high school football can be. I saw enthusiastic fans supporting the kids on the field and doing so with respect to the other side. It was a fine way to spend a Friday night.