Saturday, September 5, 2015


I don't understand sentimentality.

I had a beautiful angora scarf, a Don Loper of Hollywood scarf, my mother bought for me in California perhaps 40 years ago. I loved that scarf.

It's disappeared.

I miss it. I can buy another scarf. An angora one, if I like. I could buy three or four scarves, but I miss that scarf because I liked it, because I had it for a long time, because it did its job well. I don't want another scarf. I want that scarf.

There's other things like that missing, things that I've had for years, for decades. A lamp. A dish from Japan. I could name more.

The odd thing is that I know that people are ruled by possessions. We buy them. We care for them. We soon need them in our lives.

And I don't like to be possessed by possessions.

I once read a writer who suggested a wise man would never own more than he could load in a car.

I probably would have loaded that scarf in the car were that my philosophy and my lifestyle, but best guess—it was left in the pocket of a winter coat given away to a charity.

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