October 25th, 2006
You know, I'm not really known for my sentimentality. I mean, I have streaks of it every once in a while ... especially, strangely, where clothing is concerned. I hate throwing away clothes, even when disposal is the most desirable thing to do with them :-)
But, as an example of how keeping old clothes around can be helpful, let me offer up this little tidbit: On the weekend I walked into the blade of a set of industrial-sized hedge-trimmers that were hanging out the back of a truck. It positively shredded the left bicep area of my new (damned expensive) leather jacket, and left a nasty bruise on my arm. But my jacket is now in need of repair, and I can't wear it on my motorcycle until it is repaired. So I dug through the closet until I found my old leather, which still fits provided I suck in when I zip it up :) and can wear that on my motorcycle until the new one is repaired.
I wear it despite the chagrin of my wife who cannot believe I would wear something so old, worn, and disgusting. But what am I supposed to do? Park my motorcycle until a more aesthetically-pleasing jacket is available? Oh, and that reminds me. Let my experience with the hedge trimmers be a lesson to motorcyclists everywhere who insist that it is okay to ride without protective gear: Those blades would have done a real number on my arm if the leather hadn't protected me! The difference is a leather patch sewn into my jacket at the tailor vs. the skin on my arm sewn back together at a hospital.
So I kept the old leather jacket because I just couldn't part with it (it was like an old friend, after all) and it turns out that it was a good thing I did, since I now temporarily need it for riding my motorcycle. Sentimentality saved the day. Hoorah!
And here is something else I am sentimental about (he said, making a sharp left turn):
When my wife and her sister were small children growing up in rural Russia, it was their duty to wash the dishes after dinner. So they would stand in front of the sink and, while washing and drying the dishes they would sing.
But they didn't just sing any old songs about pigs with pink bellies or which peasant was the next off the troika. No, they would sing old patriotic Soviet songs and songs from the wars where victory and brave soldiers were immortalised. Furthermore, they would sing these patriotic songs as loud as they could, making as much loud music as their little lungs would permit.
So can you imagine that scene? Can you picture it in your mind? Two very young girls splashily washing the dishes while belting out patriotic Soviet war songs at the tops of their lungs.
When I envision it in my own mind's eye, I get all sentimental. It makes me smile and sometimes giggle a little, and when my wife told me that it must have driven their parents and anyone else in the neighborhood a bit crazy (apparently it was that loud), the effect on me is doubled. Heck, I'm smiling all mistily right now just writing about it.
So sentimentality might not be very emotionally or socially nutritive, but in small doses it can make life a little nicer to live, can't it? :-)
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