As the
years whiz by and increasing numbers of people in my life pass away, I can't help but contemplate my stuff. Yes, my stuff—my lifetime of
accumulation—and what will become of it. For instance, I would like very much
that my Bohack Premium Beer can, which I purchased on eBay several years ago, find
another home with somebody who would appreciate it. After all, it is not merely
an empty tin can; it's a sliver of history. My earliest memory of a
supermarket is Bohack’s down the street. Gone with the wind by 1977, Bohack’s
was a New York City chain. Once upon a time, my paternal grandfather collected
compost from the store’s garbage for use in his “victory garden.” Another era
for sure!
Clearing
out a relative’s estate recently, I saw that the recycling blue bag and the
garden-variety trashcan is where so much stuff ends up. It's a sorry final
resting place that underscores how life is so fleeting with little
staying power. I have assorted collectibles and miscellaneous ephemera that
have great meaning to me, but not to very many others in my circle. And the
individuals most likely to appreciate the sentimental value of my myriad
stuff—never mind the dollar value—are my contemporaries. The problem, though,
is that they have a lot of stuff on their plates, too, and now isn't the time
to amass more of it, like a Bohack Premium Beer can.
The Landslide
board featured a map of United States with the individual states noted
along with their electoral college vote total. At the time, New York State
boasted forty-one electoral votes, surpassed only by California’s forty-five.
Florida tallied up only seventeen back in 1971, the year I received my favorite
board game as a Christmas gift. Yes, I have wondered about that old game board
of mine’s future. What, pray tell, will become of it? Really, it shouldn't end
up in the trash, but—the truth be told—not everyone will see the value and the
history in that half-century-old gem. I can honestly say that I will not be
getting anything like Landslide this Christmas. I give and receive
presents now that are mostly edible and drinkable. No more stuff to be tossed
away at a time growing increasingly nearer.
Finally, I
was in Manhattan yesterday, down in the financial district. The New York Stock
Exchange erects a big tree every year that is not only chock full of lights but
ornaments as well. There were plenty of tourists around but nothing like the
teeming masses at Rockefeller Center. Christmas in New York should include a
visit to lower Manhattan. Buy yourself a mini-Statue of Liberty while you're there. It will be something for somebody else to throw away when your time
comes.
It's Christmastime now, a holiday that through the years mightily contributed to stuff inventories everywhere. For example, I have saved the board of the Parkers
Brothers game Landslide. Outside of Monopoly, Landslide was
the most popular game in my household—among my brothers, friends, and me at
least. The goal of Landslide was to reach or surpass 270 electoral votes
and declare victory in a presidential election. It was not only an exciting
game but a valuable lesson in civics as well. I loved the sport of politics as
a kid and beyond, but not so much anymore in these hyper-partisan, bizarre
times.
(Photos
from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)
