Team Wet Dog

carrboro, n.c.

There is something about moving — packing up everything you own, driving it someplace new and then unpacking it — that makes me think of nomads, minimalists and exchange students.

The move is complete, and we’re now starting the process of calling North Carolina “home.” We’ve spent some time exploring, and there’s a lot to like here. But having your bed in a new place, and being able to call that new place home, are two different things. It took more than a year in Washington for the city to feel like home, and I imagine it will be similar here.

No move is ever fun, but this one seemed exceedingly difficult. It’s amazing how much stuff you can fit into an efficiency apartment, and just how long it takes to pull it all out and pack it in a truck. It’s a stressful process, a physically and mentally tiring event, and there’s never any way to make it easier.

Except, of course, to own less stuff.

There was a time when humans were nomadic. And when you compare that period of time versus the societal evolution towards industrial production, commercialization and shopping as a hobby, well, the idea of owning very much is really pretty new. Which I think goes a long way towards explaining the urge we all get sometimes to just pare it down, throw it out, simplify and streamline.

The idea of a permanent home, and a lot of things to fill that home, is relatively new.

Packing up everything I owned really made me think of college, and of the exchange students who would come to spend a year in the United States. They all arrived with pretty much the same stuff: a couple pairs of shoes, jeans, shorts, t-shirts, a laptop and something thing that reminded them of home. If that’s over-simplifying, it isn’t by much.

I was always jealous of those students. They seemed so unencumbered, so casual, so at ease with having with them only the bare essentials.

And yet, without fail, when the time came to go back home they were the same as everyone else, packing up extra boxes, trying to ship home the things they had bought, buying an extra suitcase for the flight back.

It is, I think, a real conflict of the human condition today (at least here in the United States) — the struggle between some need to possess many things and the deep-rooted simplicity of owning very little.

I’ve often thought about, and sometimes have tried, getting rid of stuff. Selling it, giving it away, throwing it out. For whatever reason, the idea of simplifying to the essential is a very attractive one. But a minimalist, I am not. When I start making a mental checklist of what I own, what I need and what I could easily do without, reality hits quickly. I enjoy the art I have on my walls; kitchen equipment seems essential; a computer; cameras; books; music. And if it stopped there, that would be fine. But furniture is necessary, and clothing, maybe some lamps, a television, a DVD player. And then, how could I part with that fossil I found outside Ithaca, N.Y., the carved wood pieces from Mexico, the chessboard I don’t use, the fencing mask from years ago?

Before long, my mental checklist is lengthy and I’m actually thinking of things I need to buy rather than what I can discard.

There’s something romantic about minimalism, but it just doesn’t seem to work for me. No, I think my own solution will be less elegant and philosophical — large closets and big moving vans. I love the way a clean and simple room feels, but inevitably my closets are overflowing with junk I may never get rid of. The minimalist-nomad in me, if he ever existed, is gone. But that may be just as well, because I love having a stable place to call home. Even if it means less closet space.

In any event, the move is complete and I’m looking forward to getting back to updating Team Wet Dog, taking photographs here in Carrboro and beginning the process of making a new home. Thanks to everyone for all the kind thoughts and wishes, I appreciate them all. And please stop in at the web site to check out new work as it’s posted..

— Robert

(8/20/07) 
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