Lost and Found

Accees this image here, courtesy of bexross on Flickr. Recently, I've been in a constant cycle of losing things. Saying it's just a recent cycle would indicate, that just perhaps, I'm under too much stress or am not managing my life very well. While these things may be true, the real truth is that I have often enough lost things for which I have no hope whatsoever of finding them. Case in point, as I visited my CD collection tonight, certain recordings. Who knows why they are missing, I cannot say. But recordings, like my Canadian Brass recording of Vivaldi's Four Seasons is lost forever. I keep the jewel case in my collection, just as a reminder. One of the things I had lost was my most coveted, favorite recording. In my collection, I used to label the CDs by numbers. This is CD #100. I knew it wasn't really lost, but the jewel case had gone missing for some time. When I had recovered it, I knew I had the CD, but I am not sure where it was actually located. So, it too sat empty in the collection. Tonight I set out to find it. It's Bach, and I feared it was lodged in another jewel case in some collection that, frankly, was clearly subpar to the Bach. I half expected to find it pressed-up against Mozart, or even something like the Kronos Quartet's recording of Black Angels. The good news is, I found it. It was safely paying guest rent in a multi-CD package of Ton Koopman's fourth edition of his Complete Cantatas collection. My MAK recording of Die Kunst der Fuge now lives in it's proper case, in the proper spot, next to CDs #99 and #101. I also found my wallet tonight. I've been searching for my wallet since last week. This was not my main, every-day wallet, but my backup wallet with some credit cards in it. I've been looking everywhere for it, from my office, to coat pockets, to drawers, the floor, and even under my bed. It turns out, it was in the same drawer I probably opened 4 times already, to look for it. Bingo tonight. Last week, I found my glasses. I hadn't warn them for months and I was figuring, maybe, just maybe, I ought to wear them. I no longer can use them when reading, but for far-away stuff, they might be nice. I found them sitting out in the open on a table. I really tried to kick myself for not finding them sooner. There is a good, happy ending here, to this story. I also found my sunglasses, which I forgot I had lost. I also found my Jambox and it's charging now. I found the flash to my DSLR camera. I also put away a new shirt and a new pair of socks I purchased. That wasn't lost, but it was just kind of hanging out in the living room. In going through boxes and drawers, I realized I still have a sizable collection of audio cassettes, of video cassettes (Digital 8 format), and some old letters and cards. The emotions when reading through all of that, even when just exploring each and every CD, opening the cases, was both nostalgic and emotional. When people ask us why we keep holding onto physical objects, I now have a real, palpable reason. (I digress here, and should point out when I say we, I mean to say us packrats.) The answer to the "why" question is that the physical objects, and our interaction with them, elicit experiences that only holding, touching, remembering, and re-living can reproduce. To hold the card I received from a dear friend when I turned 18, to open it up, again, and to feel it… to read the hand-written note, is something significant. I should note that finding my wallet, while the triumph of the lot was satisfying, is probably the most silly of all of the lost & found experiences. Finding it reminds me that while the wallet was a fabulous gift to me, holding all those cards plus cash each and every day is silly. I'd rather just pay for everything with my iPhone. I've yet to lose that.