Austin, TEXAS, December 19, 2005 — I know it's a tired topic in these pages. Your possessions possess you and all that. But I was almost reduced to simply recounting my meals and activities. You know, too much cheese, beer, bread and oil. And my real fruit pectin Fruit Gems candy arrived for Christmas from my Aunt Dottie. And that's an ugly story. I love that candy. And my activities weren't that amazing. Water aerobics. Lunch with Dad and some friends. Go to the drive through County office and pay property taxes. Watch TV crap, try to read the papers, work crosswords.

I ripped off the headline (Possessed) from

the New York TImes. Yeah, they have a column that runs now and again, I'm not sure when. The last one ran Sunday, though, and it was about John Waters. Sadly, I didn't actually see it in the paper. That section may or may not have made it to recycling. If it did and I missed anything about John Waters, shame on me. Of course, I found it online so I don't know...whatever. (If you subscribe to the paper, you can see most everything in the archives online except after thirty days the pictures go away, I think, but theoretically you could subscribe and just use the online thing as your New York Times.)

Anyway, the way this plays out in NY Times is that the column is about a favorite possession of some person. The John Waters one was a little broader, talking about giving and getting at Christmas.

But I digress. In the spirit of the topic this needs to be all about me. Not really. But there is the concept of your stuff and my stuff. At Christmastime and on other occasions this gets crossed up by the concept of gifts.

I have too much. Stuff. I've been trying and trying to get rid of stuff. Even stuff I liked but felt that I wasn't possessing with enough enthusiasm. I gave away T-Shirts I never wore to hurricane victims. And brand new jeans that didn't fit. I gave away a huge collection of Legos that I actually thought was pretty neat to my niece to pass along to my great nephews. I have given away framed limited editions to charity auctions. I have one destined for my cousin's vacation house in Taos. I have freecycled and donated tons (well, many pounds) of old computer gear. I have thrown things in the trash. Still I'm choking on stuff. It keeps me from real enjoyment of the best things. Not to mention finding things among the piles.

Christmas exacerbates this. You buy things for other people that they probably don't need. And you receive things that may add to your clutter. With the added embarrassment of trying to appear grateful (of even being grateful) and not getting rid of the thing while they are watching. I thought of having a white elephant Christmas with some friends but there is always that fear that you would wrap up something they gave you, thinking when they did of it more as a gazelle. A present with legs.

Which is not to say that I haven't gotten presents I loved. My 'baby sister' (my friend who shares my birthday but is one year younger) gave me an Italian umbrella with a fish handle and I love it and haven't lost it. I have gotten many presents that I love.

I feel bad when I see friends around this time of year if I don't give them something. And they often bring me something and seem to be reaching in trying to pick something because, of course, I don't need anything.

One of the most fear-inducing categories of possessions is the collection. Whether you collect books (keeping them after all possibility of reading is gone) or other more obviously 'collected' things (globes, chrome and silver barware, glassware, fake food, postcards, turtles, frogs, pigs, or, this is one I heard of the first time the other day: pears), the discard of any one of the things becomes a chore. Like breaking up a family. Even though a good collection gets pruned now and then. And everyone who sees a (pick one) flamingo, turtle, pig or bendable posable collectible figure thinks of you and may buy it for you. As a gift! And we won't even talk about the temptations of ebay in this regard.

I have collected various toys old and new (including about eight cubic feet of bendable posable and oh so collectible figures), globes, barware, glassware and, of course, books. I almost collected fake food before I stopped myself but there are still a few examples lurking around.

Collections can make great decorating statements, but they swell the possessed side of your life rather intensely.

I'm sort of tempted, when giving gifts, to go for the disposible. The plate of cookies (well, if I baked), the box of candy, the calendar. Although I've been saving calendars for a few years. I hope to recycle them as gifts when they are 'correct' again. There are only fourteen different calendars after all. The page-a-day ones, though, are truly disposible since you destroy them while using them. (And handy, too, as the backs of the pages make a convenient memo pad.) This time of year I hope someone will remember how much I like a French word or phrase a day calendar. But I usually have to buy one for myself.

I like to give dish towels, too. I give away Christmas ones at Thanksgiving sometimes. You use 'em, wash 'em, they wear out, you discard them. I like to get them, too.

FFP and I are giving each other books this year. However, we are going to find those books in our house. The challenge is to find something the other person would love to read but has forgotten that we already own.

My urge to toy collecting (which I attribute to not having gotten enough of my Sears and Roebuck fantasies fulfilled as a child) was tweaked politically this season. Kinky Friedman is selling action figures for his campaign. The commercials with them are hilarious. But I'll resist. I'll just give him money for his campaign. Although he would look good on the shelf next to that Woody figure from Toy Story. I collected Toy Story stuff for a while. And Ninja Turtles. Some of that stuff I got rid of. Some is still packed away.

I keep hoping, year after year, to rise above the stuff. To live happily among a few perfect things with only clothes I can and will wear in my closet and books I may refer to again on my shelves. Still, I'm lucky. Unlike disaster victims of events like Hurricane Katrina, I don't reach every day for something I used to own but lost. I may have to paw through my stacks and scratch my head to find something. I may occasionally realize that something I'm looking for got broken or given away. Or I may simply not be able to find it in the mess. But usually my stuff that I love is here. Giving me pleasure, meeting my needs. It's all just competing with stuff I should get rid of. Even if I got it as a gift!