Prisoners of our Possessions

We have done well many of us. We were the generation born in the years after the World War II. Born in times in austerity, but growing up during the long and pleasant journey through the Long Peace. Probably the first generation with a whole lifetime of peace and growing welfare and prosperity.

 

Our parents didn't have much at first. They had a radio receiver, of course. Used to listening to dancing music and catch the BBC during the war. Then the other consumer goods followed over the years. The fridge, the washing machine, central heating, the television set and the motor car.

 

And for us, their children, the possibility for all of us to go to university, irrespective of our parents' income.

 

We had what we needed, but not yet what we wanted. We did better than our parents. Bigger homes, two cars, summer cottages, beautiful furniture, a plethora of electrical apparatuses for home and garden, art on the walls, cupboards filled with clothes and shoes. And for the children, PlayStation 1, 2, and 3. Mobile phones, smart phones and tablets. And, of course, a computer for every member of the family. And a complex burglar alarm system to protect it all.

 

Now our generation has grown old. The children have left home, and our homes have become much to big for us. It would be nice to move to a smaller place. Preferably in the city, where you do not need a car every day, not a big garden to keep, not a big house to clean, not two cars to maintain, not the plethora of electric gadgets and utensils, one or two of which is always malfunctioning or not functioning at all, and will have to be attended to.

 

But we won't leave or big house. What do we do with all our things? We spend too much time maintaining and keeping everything in working order. We are too old and tired to go through all the stuff. We can't bring ourselves to throw out all the beautiful and sometimes expensive stuff. We will stay. WE HAVE BECOME PRISONERS OF OUR POSSESSIONS!!!!

Will somebody please tell the Chinese!

20 - and still counting

Today we open another door in our Advent calendar. We started with the number 1 and now we are at number 20, unless we have cheated because we couldn't wait to see what 24 was keeping for us. I like the idea, counting up from 1 to 24, one day at a time, until we reach the great day.

I have two Advent calendars this year. One I bought from a charity organisation, and behind every door there are some wise words to boost our humanity. The other I got from my oldest daughter, and behind every door there is a very small piece of chocolate. Behind no. 24 there is (was) a bigger piece. I do like it. Counting up to Xmas, one day at a time. I think I still have some of the child in me.

My Uncle Jack has made his own Advent calendar. It has 56 doors. He started by opening no. 56 on the first of November. That's when it all starts he says. That's when his wife starting buying Christmas presents - and he drives her to town and wait for her while she is shopping. And it is cold and windy and either raining or snowing. And when they get back, it's all about decorating the house.

 

Under door no. 56 it said 'Only 56 days left'. Today he opened door no. 5. 'Only 5 days left', it said. 'Why 5 days?', I asked him, 'it's Christmas in 4 days'?

 

'I'm counting down', he explained. 'Counting down to the day when it's over and the world returns to normalcy after two months of insanity. Counting down to the day when people stop spending the time they do not have and the money the cannot afford to spend on silly objects for people that do not want them.

 

It may not seem much to you Pulo, two months of Christmas every year. But if you think of it. For every period of 6 years, you spend 1 year preparing for Christmas. If you live to be 90, you will have spent 10 years of your adult life in preparation of Christmas. Think about what you could have done of sensible things with that time'.

 

Well - I don't know.

Darkness Recycled

Some years ago I attended a talk by the Danish author Leif Davidsen. Before becoming an author he had worked as a journalist, and in this capacity he had spent some years as a foreign correspondent in Moscow. This was in the time of the Soviet Union and before anyone imagined that the communist regimes would collapse some day soon. He told some stories from that era. Here is one of them - as I recollect it:

During the Soviet era there was always a shortage of some goods in the shops. It was not always the same things that it would be difficult to get. Some days it could be toilet paper. Some weeks later tooth paste, shoes, coffee pots or whatever.

One time it was electric light bulbs that were impossible to come by. This had been the situation for quite some time and people were getting desperate to get hold of light bulbs.

One day Mr. Davidsen was wandering round Moscow. On his walk he passed a small square and saw people gathering around a man. The man had three cardboard-boxed filled with electric light bulbs! And he was selling them. Mr. Davidsen asked for ten light bulbs. They were quite expensive, but when there is a shortage that's normal. Nothing to do about that.

He paid, and just as he was about to leave he asked if he could be sure that the light bulbs worked.

"No Sir", the man said, "they do not work. They are old light bulbs that have been replaced".

Mr. Davidsen was perplexed. "Then, why do people want to buy them?", he wanted to know.

"Oh!", the man answered, "there's a great demand. Everybody wants to buy. You see, they take them to their work place, take out a working light bulb and put in the one they have bought from me. If they just took out a working light bulb without replacing it, the manager would discover it, and they would all be checked before being allowed to leave the work place. Now the manager just thinks, that the light bulb has stopped working."

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Isn't it amazing how people are able to outsmart the system when they need to?

Like Discovering America

All land has been discovered, all oceans have been sailed, and most mountains have been climbed. It is not easy now earning fame and fortune as a discoverer.

Some years ago a group of French mountaineers were looking for new challenges. They wanted to go where nobody had gone before. And they found a mountain in Greenland for which there were no records of it ever having been climbed. And they decided to be the first to get there.

The planning was meticulous. In the summer they went to Greenland to study the area around the mountain. They talked to the locals and consulted experts to get the right equipment for the particular conditions in Greenland. They had a helicopter fly over the mountain to take a huge number aerial photos.

In the winter, back in Paris, they built a model of the mountain based on the many aerial photos and available maps of the area (this was a few years before Google Earth). They studied all the material carefully and decided on the route to take to the top.

Next summer they were back in Greenland. They arrived by boat at a small settlement which was to be their base for the following weeks. They got all their equipment unpacked and ready and waited for the right weather conditions to make a go for the summit.

After a week of waiting they set out. Everything went well. The first night they set up camp right at the foot of the mountain. The next day they made it to the top. It was a hard climb, but they were all skilled and experienced mountaineers. They were exhilarated and jubilant and they toasted in real French champagne. Before leaving they planted the French flag on the mountain summit.

 

The way back down was easier as they had ski's with them and could use them some of the way down. They spent the night in their camp at the foot of the mountain and made it back to the settlement in the early afternoon. They had been where nobody had ventured before.

 

They were allowed to use the small wooden meeting house in the settlement for their celebration. There was food and wine, French cheese and speeches. Spirits were high. When they were at their highest there was a knock on the door. A young man came in. He was wearing sports shoes and an anorak, and was slightly out of breath as if he had been running hard.

 

"Sorry to interrupt you gentlemen, but you forgot this at the top", he said handing the French flag to one of the French mountaineers.

 

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Don't know if it is a true story or not. I kind of doubt it. Would anybody climb a mountain with a bottle of champagne in his rucksack? But anyway, it's a beautiful little story.