On Stuff and Things
When I was 25, I made my first ‘big’ purchase – an Omega Speedmaster Professional. It was something I had wanted since I was 11 – the age I first attended Space Camp in Huntsville, Alabama. I wore it just about every day during my career as a teacher. No one ever asked about it, and the only time I ever brought it up was to a single student who was also interested in space history. I even let him try it on. :)
Ever since moving to California, though, my Speedmaster has spent 99.9% of its time in my safety deposit box. Being there saved it from the Tubbs Fire in 2017, and I’m so grateful for that. However, the box, manual, and extra links went up in flames.
I am partial to the Mercury MoonSwatch. :)
Anyway, I’m thinking about all of this because earlier this week I saw that Swatch was doing a collaboration with Omega to release affordable Speedmasters in different designs. I thought that was a great idea and considered taking the bus down to SF to buy one. After all, it’d be nice to have an almost identical timepiece and not have to worry about it being stolen/lost/destroyed. And it’s legit, too, as Swatch owns Omega.
But checking the news this morning, I realized that I had severely underestimated the number of Speedmaster fans worldwide. Swatch stores were mobbed like it was Black Friday circa 1999. The sold-out MoonSwatches (approx. $250 MSRP) are currently going for thousands of dollars on eBay. I wouldn’t be surprised if some sell for the cost of an actual Speedmaster.
Seeing those crowds online, my first thought was, “What in the ever-living hell are those people doing?”
And then I kept thinking and, well, I’m now wondering why people still act like this in a (hopefully soon to be) post-COVID-19 world. Is it a desire to get back to normal, to worry over trivial things rather than life-shattering events? If so, I really can’t blame them, considering the horror of war that has been on TV and social media for the last month. If people aren’t going into debt, I really have no beef with what they buy.
But then a quote came to mind, one from Tennessee Williams’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof:
“The human animal is a beast that dies and if he’s got money he buys and buys and buys and I think the reason he buys everything he can buy is that in the back of his mind he has the crazy hope that one of his purchases will be life everlasting!”
If I were to break down that quote, I would say that Williams understood the concept of retail therapy decades before the invention of the shopping mall. It’s not a literal belief that immortality is just a credit card swipe away. It’s that our fears, anxiety, doubt, everything…it all vanishes for a brief moment when we purchase…that thing. Oh, yeah, it all comes crashing down soon enough, sending people back to Amazon or the department store. I used to know what that roller coaster ride of emotions felt like.
To say I have a complicated relationship with stuff would be an understatement. Having lost just about everything in Tubbs, there was a moment I could fit all my possessions (minus my car) into a small laundry basket. It was an absolutely devastating feeling. However, the pain did fade, and I moved on. But even today, when I think about buying something, my mind runs a little calculation. I live in a small (very small) place, meaning I have to be careful about what new things I bring into my environment. If something comes in that not a daily necessity, something else must go. That thought has influenced most of my buying decisions since late 2017.
Oh, yeah, and there’s still a part of me that believes that if I have too much, mother nature will swoop in and take it all away…just like before.
There are exceptions to this rule, of course. I have a Lego typewriter model on one shelf. There are a few trinkets here and there. And, last summer, I rebuilt my Japanese literature collection. I’ve been adding to it these last few months. But these things, put together, say something about me, and would let a first-time visitor learn who I am before I even opened my mouth. And, obviously, they turn my little apartment into a home where I’m comfortable.
Compare that to the multitude of stuff and things in this world that say nothing about the people to which they belong. And price isn’t everything. It’s not even important. A Ferrari or Coach bag is an expensive, silent, and emotionally sterile item. A well-loved book or passed-down heirloom, however, are treasures.
But wouldn’t an expensive Omega Speedmaster Professional fall into the first category? For some, that’s true. For others, a group I suspect includes a few folks who mobbed their local Swatch store yesterday, it’s the chance to hear the same soft ticking Neil Armstrong heard so long ago while venturing so far away.
And to them (and me), that’s priceless.