Kipple
In Phillip K Dick’s novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? the characters refer to junk as ‘kipple’, claiming that kipple multiplies itself, and eventually takes over. Had Kate not stepped in on behalf of her mother, Pat’s house might have been consumed by kipple. Pat is in the process of looking for a new home, but in order to show her current house to prospective buyers, she needed to de-clutter. This is where Kate came in handy. Kate does not form emotional ties to worldly objects, and has no qualms about tossing things that are no longer of use. A case in point is a group of boxes where Drew has been storing his books for years. The books have not been on a shelf in more than a decade, and not cracked in an even longer time. Her point is that there is no reason to keep the books if he’s not going to ever read them. Her logic generated some hard feelings, especially when applied to some beat up chairs and a piano that doesn’t work, both of which belonged to Drew’s grandmother. But at the end of this President’s Day weekend Kate had won the battle with the kipple, and Pat’s house looked great.
In Phillip K Dick’s novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? the characters refer to junk as ‘kipple’, claiming that kipple multiplies itself, and eventually takes over. Had Kate not stepped in on behalf of her mother, Pat’s house might have been consumed by kipple. Pat is in the process of looking for a new home, but in order to show her current house to prospective buyers, she needed to de-clutter. This is where Kate came in handy. Kate does not form emotional ties to worldly objects, and has no qualms about tossing things that are no longer of use. A case in point is a group of boxes where Drew has been storing his books for years. The books have not been on a shelf in more than a decade, and not cracked in an even longer time. Her point is that there is no reason to keep the books if he’s not going to ever read them. Her logic generated some hard feelings, especially when applied to some beat up chairs and a piano that doesn’t work, both of which belonged to Drew’s grandmother. But at the end of this President’s Day weekend Kate had won the battle with the kipple, and Pat’s house looked great.
When it comes to emotional ties to worldly objects Kate and I are at odds. I am a pack rat. I keep everything, either because of the sentimental value or because I am afraid that I will need it some day and not have it. This way of thinking came from my father. He won’t throw anything away if it works or if it is fixable. My favorite is his sawzall, which I tenderly refer to as ‘Mad Max’ because it reminds me of a weapon one might see in a Mad Max film. He can afford a new saw, but he prefers to fix the old one. For years I have said that if Stretch took everything out of his garage that he could build a whole house with it. My sister’s dryer recently broke, and when she told my dad about it he told her not to buy one because he had one in the garage. Why? Who knows? The funny thing is that I could spend hours sifting through his garage looking for a tube of construction adhesive, where he would take two seconds to locate it. So my penchant for keeping stuff was a learned behavior. I have Utah Jazz ticket stubs from when I was 8 years old, but I can’t tell you why.
The only reason that I have my ‘precious’ is that I have them stashed in a tub where Kate can’t find them. If she ever did I would have to follow her to the cracks of Doom to prevent her from tossing them, coughing “golllum!” all the way.
It appears, though that my children have learned the ways of the pack rat from me. Whitney is the worst, and I think it is a byproduct of her OCD. I am still trying to figure out how I can get rid of the old origami that she got for Christmas and is still cluttering her desk.
For Patrick it was his Mickey Mouse blanket. It was a quilt that someone made for him when he was an infant, and by the time we got it away from him it was little more than a rag, much like Linus’ security blanket. Kate stitched the tears so many times it was more like a ‘Frankenstein’s Monster’ blanket. I know it couldn’t possibly keep him warm as a blanket, yet he spurned any other blanket. Finally Kate made him a quilt with trucks on it, and he surrendered the Mickey Mouse blankie.
P and Samantha also have a night light in their room that they refuse to part with. At one time it was shaped like a duck, but the frame and the bulb are all that are left now. It’s probably a fire hazard, but I can’t get them to go to bed without it on.
Speaking of ducks, Samantha has duckandbear. They have to be mentioned together, because they are never apart. One is a pink 9 inch square fabric with a bear head in the middle and the other yellow with a duck head. Each has a satin edge, and she rubs the satin against her lips while falling asleep. If duckandbear cannot be found at nap or bed time, there is no nap or bed time and Armageddon is at hand. These tattered mementos are so important that Kate had to rush to the mall and search for one that was dropped there a little more than a year ago. Kate was in such a hurry that she rear ended a kid in his dad’s Infinity and cried not because of the accident, but because of the fear of losing bear (which fortunately was recovered).
Where do we get our penchant for keeping crap that is of no value? I have no idea, but until I figure it out I am not going to part with my 1989 Junior Jazz trophy.
1 comment:
Why does your dad have a dryer in his garage? Because it belongs to your older sister and she did not have any where to store it and (because it is in the gene pool) Your older sister could not part with it.
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