Quality over Quantity (Day 140)

I didn’t grow up with much. That isn’t to say that I wanted for anything, save perhaps affection. No, what I mean to say is that I didn’t “have a lot of stuff”. My mom, Nancy, hated clutter, and was known for tossing things when she believed they’d somehow shifted from the category of “useful stuff” to “clutter-creating junk”. Weird thing about it was that it didn’t matter whose stuff it was, AND the chances on this water-to-wine level miracle of stuff transformation doubled when the stuff happened to be mine. 

What a coincidence, no? 

Hidden inside the hard-taught, broken lesson of assigning value to things/beings with which we have an emotional connection is the treasure of learning how to see and appreciate quality. 

When ya buy things, be patient until you can get the best quality one… otherwise, ya just buyin’ a bunch of junk that’ll clutter and be replaced.”
Nancy Ashton (1926-2014)

​Again, great lesson… horrible delivery. 

I think it’s because of this I’m not a collector. I don’t collect books, trinkets, clothes, friends, guns, baseball cards, degrees, religious accomplishments, etc. etc. etc… at this point I think if I started, I’d feel like some sort of ego-feeding hoarder. 

Sitting quietly sometimes, I can Nancy’s voice in my head. “Why you need all them ‘friends’, Billy. Those people ain’t your friend. You’ll know who your friends are when you ain’t got nothing. See who’s left.” 

Again, great lesson… horrible delivery. (See where I get it from?) 

A few of *whatever* in the finest quality possible, is worth a thousand shitty ones. 

(See y'all tomorrow)