12-16-01, Lisa Laird, 653 words
Lisa's Lair
By Lisa Laird
IPS Features
TRITE OR TREAT?
Remember the way you felt as a kid upon wearing a
new pair of sneakers, or blue jeans, or ice skates? I do. Except for
the ice skates. I was told I’d have to wait till my feet stopped growing
first; by the time they did, I lost interest.
But the point I’m making is that these basic purchases were very
special and eagerly awaited. They
were hoped for and valued. The word
“appreciated” instantly comes to mind.
Yes, I was certainly grateful. The
once in a while occasions I’m referring to were always preplanned and
remarkably as thrilling to me as a day at the nearest amusement park or
afternoon spent at a movie theatre. Infrequency
was the main ingredient defining and preserving those special treats.
When I was twelve years old, my parents bought me a
cassette recorder. It was such a
big deal in my eyes that I still remember choosing one. That inexpensive, simple gift became my shadow.
We were inseparable after school, weekends, and holidays.
For a number of years, my favorite band had a weekly television show that
I faithfully watched. My new little
device allowed songs performed on the program to be captured on tape and carried
all over the house, backyard, and also in my parents’ car.
I even brought that gadget into a Red Lobster restaurant with an
audiocassette or two in my jacket pocket. I
was allowed to press “play” with the agreement I’d keep the volume down to
a barely audible level. And for
quite some time, I continued to do so in similar situations.
My first brand-new ten-speed bicycle was adored
immensely also. After a string of
secondhand ones, being the original owner was quite a tremendous privilege.
We shared many years, adventures, and joyous memories together. Probably
more than can honestly be said for many marriages of the past, present, and
future. Unfortunately.
The item I most distinctly desired as a kid was a
see-through “bubble” umbrella, as it was called back then.
We had been hit with a snowstorm and I had to wait for the roads to be
cleared before my mother would go shopping for one.
Each morning, I looked out the living room window to see if our side
street was visible from beneath the fallen snow.
When it finally was, we drove to several stores, but they were all
sold-out. I was severely disappointed, especially since I never did
obtain the prized umbrella.
As adults, how often do we enjoy the pleasures of
receiving genuine treats? Minus the
artificial ones, such as ice cream sundaes and glazed doughnuts, what’s the
actual count? Delayed rewards are
things of the past; instant gratification is the norm, although it only offers
temporary satisfaction. How many
times do you see adults skipping out of stores, smiling, while clenching their
purchases?
We want, so we buy.
And many of us proceed without caution.
Acquiring possessions becomes commonly routine; the wonderment of
grasping a much-desired belonging loses its pizzazz, its kick.
Whenever I purchase something for myself, no matter how
attractive I assess it to be, it just does not have that exciting spark it would
have had during my younger years. When
I had to wish. When I had to wait.
And when it was once in a blue moon.
Yes, when it was an absolute treat.
Having the ability to obtain material goods at will does
make us jaded. Easily gaining too
much of anything causes us to miss out on something: When we no longer have to hope, dreams lose their purposes.
We don’t need to wish upon stars for the little things that meant
everything way back when. And I find that reality truly sad. It is something to think about now and then, perhaps
provoking a slight nostalgia.
Through fervently longing for our hearts’ desires, we
sustain endless youth.
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