Peoples' discards write storybooks of their lives. Witness what I dredged up when the need for dozens of moving boxes sent me "dumpster diving" near a local college. Student life has changed dramatically in the 40 years since my own departure for school.
The empty boxes I pulled out suggested a far-improved level of affluence today than then. The bare necessities of college life now embrace computers, toaster ovens, cordless phones, DVD players and VCR’s, televisions, boom boxes, small refrigerators, microwaves, bookshelves, folding clothes racks–and much more.
Mother cried as Daddy packed the trunk of our old Comet with my scant belongings. A few clothes and two pairs of shoes–Hushpuppies for walking to class and penny loafers for dressier occasions–comprised my basic wardrobe. An army surplus footlocker would be storage for staples like blanket, towels, washcloths and sheets.
Mother tossed in some items I'd never needed before. "You will," she rightly assured me. Large black umbrella. Wire thingies for stretching and creasing the legs of jeans. Big Ben wind-up alarm clock (topped with two huge bells) which I soon nicknamed Thunder Lizard. And I wouldn't be long in discovering both the function and frustration of the peculiar device in a box marked "steam iron."
A couple of quick trips from the Comet fully furnished my half of 706 Yocum Hall, leaving no extra boxes and no need for a dumpster.
Four decades have irreversibly altered lifestyles, and I'd be lost today without cell phone and laptop computer. Nevertheless, some of the dumpster discards confirm the old truism that privilege and responsibility still go hand in hand. Door hangers from local banks apprised new students, many experiencing their first separation from parental oversight, of checking accounts and services for having deposits wired from home.
The discovery of a tightly bound package puzzled me a bit. Its unseen contents, effectively shielded from prying eyes by multiple layers of opaque Wal-Mart sacks, hinted at a conclusion I didn't try to confirm: a young person had wisely determined to abandon pornography.
The residuals of one final box set my mind's eye to watching a mother carefully, lovingly place three important articles in her child's suitcase. And my heart ached at the crushing disappointment she would feel had she seen where they had been casually tossed. Apparently the daily planner, student handbook and Bible would play no part in her child's attempted breakaway from the age-old restraints imposed upon us by time, rules and moral standards.
But could I counsel that young person as a father might do, I would mention three unchangeables–all as compelling and necessary today as ever. Embrace them and succeed; shun them and flounder.
Limitations of time are inescapable, rules others impose upon us are unavoidable, and benefits from moral restraint are undeniable.
Copyright 2003 James McAlister
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