#50 - What's Golden?

What's Golden?

12/26/04 (#50)

The modern economy didn't flourish by satisfying the needs of consumers,
but by creating the desire for products consumers didn't need at all."
--John Kenneth Galbraith

This is my 50th column with OSF, my golden anniversary of sorts, and I have decided to borrow a song title from Jurassic 5 as a theme. I'm not sure if I have lifted the concept in the manner they intended, but I hope they'll forgive me if I have taken liberties. To me, "What's Golden?" is an essential question.

Raising a little girl in a culture that takes such pride in consumption, I have spent the last couple of years wrestling with the "If I only had this, then I'd be happy" thought process. I don't think desire is in itself a bad thing, but it does need to be measured with attention to the difference between "want" and "need."

For example: I want a tube mic preamp for my home studio. I want it so that I can boost the voice tracks on my recordings, giving the vocals the sonic attention they deserve. But I do not need the preamp. When I take my time with mike placement and judicious use of effects and the compressor (purchased as panaceas to previous desires), the vocals are right where they need to be in the mix. (Of course, considering this is my voice we are talking about, a tube mic preamp might be like putting spinner wheels on a 1983 Corolla.) It's a $100 item, I could likely be able to afford it if I stopped getting a latte every morning, but it's about more than just being able to manage the payments: If I don't need it, why own it?

Everyone I know, when they have to move from one apartment or house to the next, remark, "How did I manage to accumulate all of this stuff?!" I have said it myself in the past, and surely will again when it's time to move. When Steph and I moved into our house from an intricately packed studio apartment, we reveled in all of the space----wall space, closet space, psychic space. Now, I'm not sure I even have room for a tube mic preamp. So much stuff, so much clutter. All of these possessions assist my convenience and provide varying levels of entertainment, but very few have even minimal impact on my actual happiness.

To me, happiness is the endgame. Every other achievement is diminished, even negated, if you aren't happy enough to enjoy it. In fact, I find happiness to be the most defiant act of rebellion against those who want to convince us that we are in imminent danger from terrorism, West Nile disease, carbohydrates, video games, red meat, red states, immigration, Ford Expeditions, meth labs, ad nauseum. Some are legitimate concerns, no doubt, but I refuse to let the concept of them keep me from being happy. Likewise, I try not to let the absence of trifles such as a tube mic preamp interfere with my happiness, either.

My happiness is impacted by this short but densely packed list of things that I actually do need. Here is what's golden:

Sage: Every day I am so impressed with you. You seem to possess an ideal balance of caution and fearlessness; you observe carefully, and then when comfortable, dive in completely; you delight in laughter. I hope that these traits stay with you for your whole life. I am writing all of these columns for you, hoping that one day they give an insight into your Dad's silly jokes (for that, blame your grandfather), penchant for sentimentalism (for that, credit your grandmother), and happiness. (For that, I thank you and your Mom.) I love you completely, Sage.

Steph: I am still amazed at my good fortune of getting to share my life with you. You make me laugh, you make me proud, and you make me happy. I am unable to encapsulate everything into a clever little paragraph, so instead let me speak of just one recent moment: Dark drive from Seattle in November, 80's radio station paring time off the journey in 4-minute segments, that whole ride felt like our first summer in Maine, full of excitement, comfort, and hope. I've enjoyed every one of those first dates over the last 12 years, and look forward to many more. I love you. (PS, you're a fabulous Mom, too!)

My parents: Literally and figuratively, I would not be here today without you. I am regularly reminded of wisdom you have imparted over the years, in both word and example. You taught me the importance of being a good person, a good neighbor, and a good friend. Each day I try to be all of those things. Thank you for giving that to me, along with everything else you have given.

My family: We don't talk often, we see each other even less, but distance and duration have not diminished how much I respect you all. We have all taken such divergent paths, so diverse that it sometimes seems they will never cross, but I cherish the times when they do. I wish you all an easy search for your own happiness. (That goes for the Bonenfant/Ledoux side of the clan, too. You are a wonderful family to be welcomed into.)

My friends: How rich is a man who has too many wonderful friends to mention each by name? As rich as I am. (Though I hesitate on a roll call mostly for fear of my flaky brain leaving someone essential from the list.*) When I am frustrated, frazzled, or fed up with anything at all, there is no antidote more effective than a good friend. Driving around listening to music with Steven, a choice email from Zeth (who can cheer up any mood with a timely quote from The Big Lebowski), eating thai food in Favor's office, thought-filled lunches with Cale or Sally---friends ease my mind not by solving the problems, but simply by putting the problems in perspective. Best of all, I rarely need my friends to soothe my moods---with friends like these, my mood is usually ebullient. To each and every one of you, those I see every week and those I see once a year, you have made my and my family's lives richer with your friendship. Thank you!

That's what's golden to me.

I think that's all the gold a person needs. (I just hope I can pass it down to my daughter.)

©2004 wpreagan