PRIME LIVING
F F U T S B y J ay C l arkin
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e all have it, don’t we? Call it what you will: personalty, junk, books, furniture, coffee cups, photographs, clothing unworn for years or outgrown, memorabilia, souvenirs, letters, etc. Take a walk around your abode and do a quick catalog of what you have amassed and continue to retain in your life. Is your list long or short? I figured out that in my lifetime, I have had mailing addresses at 22 different locations encompassing 12 different cities and towns in six different states over 76 years. I’m uncertain that all these moves were the result of nomadic instincts, boredom, marital incompetence, or being run out of places by popular demand. In any event, I’ve had more than my share of chances to accumulate an esoteric pile of “stuff.” I could never be classified as a convert to minimalism, but I am increasingly willing and even eager to at least begin to shed “stuff.” I’d like to think that it is not an affectation and that I am really inspired by
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S ou th C oast P r ime T imes
the theologian Jacques Maritain, who commented, “How much there is in this world I do not want.” It was probably a foregone conclusion that the guy would be an anti-materialist since he’d taken a lifetime vow of poverty. Being a theologian, he probably was referring to having no interest in fame and adulation. I’d be happy to forego those things too and would be totally content with not being either infamous or generally detested. So, it would seem that I am a minimalist, if only in terms of my aspirations. Two years ago, prior to my most recent change of address, I began the threefold process of junking things, saving
S ep tember /O c tober 2021
things, and setting aside items I hoped my children would accept, appreciate, and preserve. I surprised myself by throwing out my High School, College, and Law School diplomas. The last two, expensively framed, hung on my office wall for decades, assuring clients that I was, in fact, a real lawyer. Going forward now, I’ll be unable to prove my former professional status. On the bright side I figure I’ll be less likely to have to hear any more of those abominable lawyer jokes. I could not part with my Foreign Service Commission signed by LBJ and Dean Rusk in 1966 and appointing me to the “Diplomatic Service of the United States” because they both reposed “great trust” in my “ability, prudence, and integrity.” I kept this because I found their confidence in me misplaced a bit but still delightful and to counter the opinion of many who know me that I am not very diplomatic, but rather blunt. So that stayed out of the growing junk pile. Next, I kept my Military Officer’s Commission even though it’s pretty obvious in retrospect that this was no big deal. The government would make anyone a 2nd Lieutenant during the Vietnam War as they kept losing them. I gave some of the Vietnam stuff to my sons: a Montagnard knife, the fin of a Russian 122mm rocket that missed me (thank you, God) but made Swiss Cheese of the Jeep next to me. Next, I’ll divest myself of the framed photo of
I am increasingly willing and even eager to at least begin to shed “stuff” me and my friend in Cambodia. He was a Commandant (Major) who was later executed by the Khmer Rouge. I gave one of my kids a brass salute cannon that was last fired by my Great-Grandfather and namesake for the benefit and delight of his eight children sometime in the 1890s. I’ll keep the photo plaque of my Barrington High Hall of Fame football team, not because it’s proof of my athletic prowess on the gridiron, but rather because it is the only the athletic award I ever received. I’ve told the kids that it should be placed in the
