Confessions of Pack rat - Personal thoughts, observations and advice from a seasoned professional.

Almost from the moment we met, my wife, Yvonne, labeled me a Pack rat. At first, I couldn't understand what she was talking about. After all, couldn't she see that all that stuff I've collected over the years was valuable - to me?

And each time we'd have that same discussion, I'd immediately start thinking about the old George Carlin monologue he wrote about "stuff:"

Actually this is just a place for my stuff, ya know? That's all, a little place for my stuff. That's all I want, that's all you need in life, is a little place for your stuff, ya know? I can see it on your table, everybody's got a little place for their stuff. This is my stuff, that's your stuff, that'll be his stuff over there. That's all you need in life, a little place for your stuff. That's all your house is: a place to keep your stuff. If you didn't have so much stuff, you wouldn't need a house. You could just walk around all the time.

But, as it turned out, Yvonne was right all along. I am the pack rat of our family and she is my polar opposite. For example, when we've both finished reading the morning newspaper, Yvonne grabs it and unceremoniously throws it in the trash, then, I dig it out. Why, she asks? There are important articles printed there that I want to save, is my response.

And that's how it's been for the past 18 years of our marriage, at least until just recently. Lately, I've begun to question my behavior. At first I thought that I had finally submitted to her constant prodding and pleading with me to start throwing my stuff away. But there turned out to be another more personal reason -- my perception of what's really important in life had changed.

Curiously, those accumulated piles of "important articles" I've been collecting forever, now are suddenly starting to resemble what they really are -- piles of junk that I haven't read in years.

A house is just a pile of stuff with a cover on it. You can see that when you're taking off in an airplane. You look down, you see everybody's got a little pile of stuff. All the little piles of stuff. And when you leave your house, you gotta lock it up. Wouldn't want somebody to come by and take some of your stuff. They always take the good stuff. They never bother with that crap you're saving. All they want is the shiny stuff. That's what your house is, a place to keep your stuff while you go out and get...more stuff!

So, a couple weeks ago, I started throwing my "stuff" away.

At first I found it extremely painful, but as time passed, I started to get "into" the spirit of disposal. And as the stacks of boxes stored in my garage began to dwindle and my garbage cans filled, I felt a curious sense of relief. It was as if a fog was lifting from my brain and I could suddenly see more clearly.

What I discovered was that all that "stuff" stacked in boxes in my garage really took up a lot of space. Space that I can now use to park my dirt bikes in the garage, rather than storing them inside my scorching hot motorcycle trailer parked out back.

But the most important discovery I made was unearthing several boxes of family memorabilia. Truly important boxes filled full of family photos, documents and keepsakes Yvonne and I inherited from my mother at the time of her passing. Funny thing was that I knew they were there, but at that time, I couldn't mentally cope with the thought of scrounging through any of my mother's personal belongings.

But it was now time. So, I spent this past weekend sorting through those boxes. I experienced a roller costar of emotions on my trip down memory lane, but when it was over, I had a greater understanding of my mother.

Family was number one for mom. For, stored lovingly within those dilapidated boxes she had kept all those years was proof positive. In those boxes were keepsakes of the highpoints of mom's life including baby books of her 3 children, pictures from Germany, where she lived while Bob, her 2nd husband, served in the Army during the Korean War along with countless other family photos and documents.

There were also other remarkable keepsakes like the front page of mom's hometown newspaper on the day WWII ended. And she had even saved newspaper clippings and other mementos from her days as a powder puff stock car racer.

So, my advice to you is to get busy today removing the clutter from your life. Doing so will simplify your life enabling you to see more clearly and truly experience what's important in your life.

And it's my hope that we all clearly see that family is the most important thing in any of our lives, just like it was for my mother so many years ago.

Oh, by the way, Yvonne is the office manager for a specialized commercial builder who has spent millions of dollars and the past decade building public storage buildings throughout the South Eastern U.S. You know, the ones you can rent by the month when you run out of storage space to store your stuff at home.

Sometimes you gotta move, gotta get a bigger house. Why? No room for your stuff anymore. Did you ever notice when you go to somebody else's house, you never quite feel a hundred percent at home? You know why? No room for your stuff. Somebody else's stuff is all over the goddamn place! And if you stay overnight, unexpectedly, they give you a little bedroom to sleep in. Bedroom they haven't used in about eleven years. Someone died in it, eleven years ago. And they haven't moved any of his stuff! Right next to the bed there's usually a dresser or a bureau of some kind, and there's NO ROOM for your stuff on it. Somebody else's shit is on the dresser.

Have you noticed that their stuff is shit and your shit is stuff? God! And you say, "Get that shit offa there and let me put my stuff down!" © George Carlin

Come to think of it, instead of throwing out all your "stuff", maybe you should just rent one of our units and fill er' up!

Respectfully,

Bruce Hosking and the rest of the "Gang" @

BoomerBikerOnline.com

2174 Nursery Road, Suite 110

Clearwater, Fl. 33764

USA

727-729-4270

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