LostInaFog.com

This has not been one of my better weeks. The highlight, so to speak, was having my car window shattered and my briefcase stolen from my car parked on a busy City street, at dinner time on Thursday night. I know what you’re thinking? Was I stupid enough to leave something of potential value visible in my car? The answer is yes, I was just that stupid. A friend is leaving for New York and I wanted to at least make an appearance at the party. After driving around for 20 minutes looking for a parking place, any parking place within several blocks of the restaurant, I got lucky and caught a couple jumping in their car. Right place at the right time. I was late, stuffed my iPod in my briefcase and shoved it on the florrboard, out of easy sight. At least that was my theory. Ten seconds it would have taken to put it in the trunk.

I came back two hours later to shattered glass and the case gone. Gone were my PowerBook, my iPod and assorted other things of some value to me that I carry in that case. Though I am always up for a good excuse to grab the newest iPod or the new MacBook Pro, life is just not right to do that right now. And with my freelancing and consulting I cannot afford to be without the tools. So losing these is a problem.

But you know what is really tossing me at night. It’s not some huge anger over it all, or even some sense of personal violation that left me unsettled. Not really. It’s a pen. And the briefcase itself. Several years ago, in a bit of excitement over bubble company options, good salaries and a good spot in life, I bought the most extravagant single thing I’ve ever bought for myself. It was a chocolate brown soft leather Coach bag. It worked perfectly with the variety of laptops I’ve toted since, had plenty of room for the essentials, looked great, felt great. I should be embarassed to tell you what I spent on it, but it was something like a grand. Really. I just loved those nickel fittings and that little leather coach tag that hung from the handle. I loved how it felt on my shoulder. It fit me. This from a guy who is happiest in plain jeans and t-shirts, and bought just one new car in my life. Certainly I’m not a consumer products status snob seeker.

The pen was a Lamy titanium pen/pencil. I’ve had several of these over the last ten years and they are by far my favorite pen. It felt good to hold, wrote smoothly, was just heavy enough to feel substantial. If I handed you that pen, I watched it like a hawk until it was back in my hands.

Sure, I can (eventually) replace the pen. I doubt that I would ever again spend the kind of money that case cost. But what has me broken over all of this is that these small items had become vested with a sense of hope and remembrance for me. I know that eventually life will financially be sitting upright again, and that personally I will begin living the life I want again. These little items were my daily reminder that while there are certainly downs, there are also ups. They connected me to moments of joy and happiness and hope and beginnings.

When life is more of a struggle I find that is when it is most important to me do be able to do the little things–take my kids to their favorite restaurant, spring for that Sunday afternoon movie, buy that new Springsteen album. I need to do these things even when they are not necessarily financially smart. It helps keep me from feeling beaten on those days when I am. Little joys help push me forward to the next day’s fight.

Some psychologist out there would no doubt be able to help me “past” these compulsions. But I don’t really see them as a problem. I don’t take drugs or drink excessively to escape. I don’t just tuck and run at trouble. I live my life with what honor I can muster and what integrity I can breed. And I sometimes need more. Perhaps I will discover a love or a cause or a passion that supplants these small band-aid uppers I require. God, I hope I still have those kinds of joys to look forward to in life.

But for now, I find myself devastated by the loss of these small, material things, and I grieve for them in a completely inappropriate way when around me I see the signs of so many deeper pains in other people. But for a while longer, I will grieve.