In the early seventies I worked for two years at the Seattle Goodwill sifting, transporting, trashing, and shuttling around people's donations. This was my first encounter with cumber.
About that time I became a Christian and read with fascination the New Testament admonition to "put off all encumbrances and things which hinder growth."
After my father's death in the mid 2000's my grief was seasoned with existential angst while disposing of his estate. We hired an auctioneer to sell off his accumulated treasures. The PR was lousy and so was the turn out. Consequently only a handful of buyers showed up and they bought my dad's beloved hand tools, power tools, furniture, paintings, hand made tables, and a thousand other oddments for pennies on the dollar. I shook my head in Ecclesiastes-like lament as truckloads of his beloved possessions were hauled off by strangers drunk with glee at their good fortune. I imagined their kids someday hiring an auctioneer to get rid of all that stuff which would be an encumbrance to them.
In helping my mother downsize for a move to Florida I had opportunity to witness her goodbyes to many of her beloved books. She wisely kept saying, "I can't keep everything" so we sent many titles, along with boxes and boxes of housewares and other miscellaneous items, to the Goodwill. Her cumber is now creating jobs for the disabled.
I muse on this as I pack for my journey. How much cumber do I need? Part of me wishes I could travel armed with only a book and a credit card. But I also need a cell phone. And comfortable walking shoes. And sun glasses. And toothbrush. And, and, and.
Like it or not, I gotta have my stuff. Which brings me to this oft repeated but still funny bit from Manhattanite and former Roman Catholic, George Carlin.
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