And no one, having drunk old wine, immediately desires new; for he says, "The old is better." — Luke 5:39
I found Old Blue in the kitchen trash can five years ago. My wife decided, with no due process, that Old Blue, MY Old Blue, was too shabby for me. That was the day my wife finally learned the depth of my loyalty to the small things. Old Blue did nothing to deserve it. He was worn threadbare and had some holes along the crotch seams no bigger than dimes. His elastic band was fine and his being threadbare was a boon in the humidity.
Old Blue was my favorite boxer-brief and he was returned to service with dignity. My wife has since called me a “dumpster diver” a few times (for the record, that stale cookie was sitting on top of an egg carton and it was just fine even with the coffee grounds!)
Old Blue soldiered on for five more years. But the spin cycle is cruel, unforgiving, and Old Blue’s fabric finally gave way a few weeks ago. If Old Blue were tartan, I could wear him as a kilt.
I know men with holey underwear are a stereotype: we are cheap, lazy and our resistance to replacing our raggedness is unromantic.
All hooey. It’s the opposite, in fact. We are frugal, able to discern value in function and there is much romance in commitment.
Loyalty to the small things is a manly virtue. They are blessings, albeit small ones, from the Lord. Using them to their end is my way of showing gratitude.
Underwear that is rough, rides or rubs really ron’t rast roo rong, Raggy*. Men will not tolerate unpleasant things next the most precious skin they have. If the wife buys the wrong ones, they will sit politely in the drawer, unused. Others will go in the trash or be used to shine shoes. Thin fabric and holes are signs of love, not neglect, reliance not apathy. These garments are tools to us. A man does not discard a crescent wrench because its handle is scratched. A beloved tools’s blemishes are of no concern. We care only how well that wrench fits bolts and nuts. When we come to love these tools, they will be with us to the end. When you put in with a guy, you stand by him.
We are loyal to these small things not because we are cheap, but because we sense ingratitude and vanity. Discarding a friend that no one else will meet except our wives, and maybe an emergency room staff, is a betrayal of thrift and humility. Underwear were meant to use until they fail, like triple-strand concertina wire or coon hounds.
Indeed, loyalty to small things is a manly virtue. Like all virtues, too much or too little becomes vice.
We live in sated times. Few westerners, even many of the poorest, are not compelled to wear something until it fails. God grants us the instinct to discern value and and avarice, but affluence and the proliferation of cheap goods have short-circuited our instincts, particularly temperance and forbearance. Today’s “hoarders” are yesterday’s survivors. We are all “obese”, I read once, but some of us are better at it than others. We are all “hoarders” as well given the right circumstance (remember that toilet paper shortage?) Perhaps, given the right temptation in the right way, any one of us could fall victim to a disease of prosperity.
Appetites, when utterly satisfied and unimpeded, dissolve the walls of our senses. The Enemy will find his way in. Obesity, gambling, substance and pornography use, hoarding, compulsive shopping are all vices exacerbated and maintained by the largesse of our age. Yet, these vices come from basic human nature: fear of famine, pleasure, Eros, risk-taking, and material acquisition. All of which are necessary, even desirable, in scant amounts. I daresay most people afflicted today with these vices would not have been so in the past. Some would still succumb, but the cost of these vices were very high in those days, the victims fewer. In leaner times, these human predispositions were beneficial.
Be not among winebibbers;
Among riotous eaters of flesh:
For the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty:
And drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags. Proverbs 23: 20-21
If we accept that:
short-circuited human nature can cause people to become dopers, boozers, over-eaters, hoarders, gamblers, social media and porn-addicts AND
that all of us can be short-circuited
we must admit that unimpeded acceptance of these vices can only ruin more of us. Sadly, many people defend themselves only with some vestigial self-discipline and a few tattered ropes of religiosity still mooring them to the temperate pier.
Hoarding and obesity cannot be controlled with law, unlike the others. Both can be deadly, but surely they ruin the quality of life as much as they kill it. The blessings of plenty were tragic for King Midas (click for the poem).
I myself have difficulty parting with things, especially things I have had for a long time. I am getting better at loving the small things, the things that comfort my skin, literally and figuratively. I have learned to say goodbye to things unloved or unused. By keeping true to beloved small things, I am able to discard the clutter and redundancies in my life.
Ray Bradbury was a master of small things. To him, small things were portals to both imagination and memory, of what has become and what could have been.
To Mr. Bradbury, the small things were both the tools and materials with which he built mirror worlds to reflect our own. Each little thing contained enough of a spark to start his mind afire. His collection was not mere nostalgia. He sat among them for decades writing each day of his life.
This week, love some small thing, even humble undies, then give away something unloved, someone else may love it, and then pray.
Enjoy the roses and the wine, but not too much of each. Godspeed.
*Stupid Scooby-doo alliteration joke.
Great line "many people defend themselves only with some vestigial self-discipline and a few tattered ropes of religiosity still mooring them to the temperate pier"
There is, indeed, much romance in commitment. Also why I never buy undies for my hubby--only he knows what he likes in that department.
While I do love my things and tend to hold on to some of them far too long, I have to admit I've been wanting to purge more and more lately. Simplicity calls. And that photo of Bradbury amid all his piles of stuff is just chilling!