The Daniels blood runs deep within me. Sharing these next few
thoughts may seem a little imprudent, but I promise it will become clear. I
can't count the number of times my Mom has commented on my Grandmother's
incapacity to part ways with simple trinkets, doodads, and thingamajigs. I have
many childhood memories of rummaging through the shelves and stacks of what I
considered junk in the attic, garage or barn at the Daniels estate south
and west of Redfield, Ks. Most of the trinkets didn't even catch my eye. I was
on the lookout for the ultimate prize. During my childhood years, that prize
was usually something that contained the ability to entice a finned, gill laden
creature to bite and fight for its life as I joyfully tugged it to shore. I
didn't know it at the time, but I was rifling through a whole family's history.
A history full of cattle, coons and the military. Lives woven together by pet
skunks, canned peaches, and old farm trucks. To say I didn't know the half of
it is a grossly underestimated assumption. I slid open the old barn door to see
piles of this, that and the other. My Grandma slides the doors open to a
completely different scene. I am reaffirmed to this by the struggle my Mom and
Aunts had in convincing my Grandma to sell a significant portion of these
memories during a garage sale years ago. One day I will have piles of what
someone will consider junk and I will likely grasp as tightly as my Grandma
once did.
Now is not the time for grasping, however.
To quote one of my favorite songs "I'm too young for the past tense."
I have a plane fare to pay! I have gear to buy, preparations to make, and money
to save. I turn to my own pile of "junk" for the deficit. All in all,
I need about $6000 dollars for the trip. $6000 dollars of penny penching,
ketchup packet saving, coupon scanning and strategic living. As I proceeded to
quantify, appraise, and list items for sale such as guns, bows, meat grinders,
cameras, and ski boots I was quickly thrust into the shoes of my Grandma
standing on the outside of her garage reminiscing over seemingly meaningless
possessions. I regrettably assigned reasonable values to items that had stories
to tell about nearly every corner of my life during the last 10 years. Nearly
all have sold. Thus, I want to use this post as a gravestone and memorial for
some of the more meaningful items and share a couple of thoughts this exercise
brought to the surface.
Stoeger Model 2000 12 gauge Shotgun - $300
Turkeys, quail, pheasants,
prairie-chickens, Canada geese, ducks, doves, squirrels, and clay pigeons
litter the life of this firearm. I bought the gun from a small gun shop in
Emporia, KS when I was 14 (I think) with my younger brother, Colin, and my Dad.
It was my first 12 gauge shotgun and has proved to be my most memory soaked
item. I can't even begin to write about all the joy this shotgun has
experienced in my life, but I want to share a few sentences nonetheless.
Seriously, I keep starting sentences to try and summarize the life of this gun,
but none are doing it justice in the slightest. It has been a true sportsman's
friend. It's been a constant companion through seasons of luck, bounty, empty
bags, and sore feet. However, the memories held the most dear aren't the birds
dropped or meat supplied by the harvest. Most of the significant relationships
I have forged during the last 10 years are squarely located at the end of the
red sites on the tip of this gun's muzzle. May those relationships last longer
than any steel barrel, wood stock or lead pellet.
1985 Honda 600XL - $1800
My Uncle Fred is one of the most selfless,
generous, and serving men I know. He is unassuming and quiet yet intelligent,
skilled and steady. There are many qualities portrayed by Fred that I wish I
saw more of in myself. He helped me purchase, maintain, and eventually sell
this bike. Thanks to you, Fred. We picked the bike up in the back of my Dodge
Dakota pick up with his two sons, Adam and Trevor. Like father like son, Adam
and Trevor are none short in the quality department. All three are role models
that any young man can strive towards. This bike and the memories associated
will always remind me of the Goertzen men.
Robertson Styk Bow - Takedown Recurve -
$300
Although I didn't own this bow for very
long (few years), I packed it full of memory. I bought the bow from my
professional role model, Jim Minnerath. The steamed and bent wood is saturated
full of conversations, provoking thoughts and laughs shared with Jim. I never
harvested any game with the bow, but I shared times with many good friends. The
one that sticks out is rooted in the shortgrass prairie of western Kansas.
Alongside the chalkstone ranch house in Logan county, I spent many evenings
flinging arrows towards frisbees, nerf balls, and styrofoam with Reid, Jake,
and others. Until we shoot again, men. Take care of her, Andrew, and may she
shoot swiftly.
I could go on for 1000 more words about
items I have sold. I think you get my point though. Before I wrap up though I
want to share a few thoughts this exercise cultivated.
- I have spent my money sooooooo poorly! I
can guarantee that just about any young, irresponsible guy has spent over $100
dollars in a weekend having fun with friends at the ballpark, in a bar, etc.
Does three of those weekends really add up to the same $300 dollars that just
purchased all the memories associated with my shotgun?! This really makes me
reconsider what I am spending my fun money on. This may seem silly, but from
now on I'm going to consider the "sentiment factor" associated with
my entertainment purchases. If it doesn't cultivate some memories is it really
worth the cash?
- Was it worth it to sell all these things
in order to tramp across a foreign country? Obviously I can't answer this
question yet, but in an attempt to start living how I want to live I've got to
believe it's worth every penny beyond a doubt. Sure, I'm parting with material
possessions that have a lot of meaning, but that $300 dollars will fund a 250
km trip down a river in a kayak on the North Island of New Zealand! I promise
you I will get all the sentiment out of that $300 dollars that I can.
To summarize, how do you put a price on
sentiment? Is that even possible? Are sentimental items worth more than
non-sentimental items? Does selling a sentimental item void all that
sentiement? Materials may be just that and only that, but they have the ability
to mean so much more if you stop and actually contemplate the times and corners
of your life they have graced. Parting ways with those items is a whole lot
easier if you can learn to cherish those memories and appreciate the items for
what they are; vessels for creating memories worth preserving. The possession
of those items doesn't preserve the memory. An item may serve as a reminder or
even a time machine, but the responsibility of memory storage can't fall on to
a shotgun, motorcycle, or bow. If you really cherish a memory or time in your
life, should you need an item around to remind you of said time? Cherish a
memory by preserving the relationships that led you there, utilizing the lessons learned, and being conscious of how they affected you
as a person. Cherish a memory by creating more.
