The Stuff of Trunks

I have a 'new' matching set of old trunks - small, medium and large! The timely purchase was the perfect reward for my newly-organized journals, manuscripts, articles, letters, stories, photographs, etc. I am so excited to have them! While the whole entire world is going paperless, I am buying trunks for stacks and stacks of personal papers.

 
So what is the stuff of trunks? I think the answer became clear to me as I watched the last episode of Any Human Heart on PBS Masterpiece Theater, which is based on the 2002 best-selling novel by William Boyd, a Scottish writer. The book fictionalizes the intimate and lifelong journals of Logan Gonzago Mountstuart, and the writer of the novel is so gifted that it is hard to believe that Mountstuart is a created character. The book begins with a quotation by Henry James, "Never say you know the last word about any human heart."

According to PBS description, the story explores the "detritus of a life." How can a man in the bloom of youth, pursuing writing and sex with equal vigor, end up grizzled, old, and surrounded by piles of boxes and paper, the detritus of a life? The answer is the story of Logan Mountstuart, who believes, "Every human being is a collection of selves...we never stay just one person."

...the detritus of a life. I didn't know what detritus meant, so I looked for synonyms on thesaurus.com. I found words such as fragments, debris, remains, leftovers, sediments and scraps. The thesaurus notes stated that detritus originally meant 'wearing away by rubbing' - the action, not the product; now detritus is rubble or debris and detrition is erosion by friction.

In the final scenes of the film, the aged Mountstuart, who has witnessed the deaths of so many of his friends and loved ones, is nearing his own death. Before he dies, he completes the organization of his journals and memorabilia by separating chapters of his life into piles or "collection of selves."

I think that the stuff of trunks is our collection of selves. Last night, my middle daughter and I had one of those random telephone discussions that lasts for hours. I have them on occasion with each one of my kids, but never with my husband. He and I reserve those conversations for the Saturday morning breakfast table; never on the phone. Matt and I discuss everything from the singularity to crop circles. Aimee and I discuss all things Oprah (especially our A-ha Moments), and Katie and I talk about everything from the final episode of The Bachelor to the pros and cons of Facebook.

As Katie and I talked (and talked), I listened intently to her latest observations about public relations (her major). It is one thing when your adult child calls and tells you a grade she made on a paper; however, it is something altogether different when you know that her chosen field of study is changing her life. She expressed reservations about her social network identity. As a PR major, she was questioning how a person's perceived life on Facebook actually compares to his/her real life on paper.

Wow! If there is one thing I know for sure: the stuff of trunks is not the stuff of social networks, any more than intimate journal entries can be compared to daily wall posts. My son describes most of what happens on social networks as "fronting" - a slicked-up, glossed over version of the life we carefully create. He argues that sharing all the details of your personal life is like "living on front street." The process of constant posting and uploading is what enslaves most users, not the prospect of staying in touch with five hundred friends. The imaging process is as important (if not more) than the post itself. The subject has been the fuel for many debates in our household. But, now, Katie is shifting slightly to Matt's point of view.

I do agree with Logan Mountstuart that every person is a collection of selves. Private and public selves. The stuff of trunks is that intimate private collection - separated into chapters and piles - remnants and rubble of a real life. The stuff of social media is more suited for the paperless society that it feeds. At one point in the film, Mountstuart says, "I don't like this new world that I live in. I don't know that I recognize it anymore."

That's why I am so excited about my 'new' old set of trunks and all the detritus of a life inside - a real life that is worn away by rubbing...the action, not the product. Detrition is erosion by friction. I looked up friction on thesaurus.com and found words like roughness, resistance, opposition, hassle, trouble, agitation and irritation. The stuff of trunks is a life of handwritten journals, handmade birthday cards and stacks of photos. Real life is like an old children's book with an exposed cardboard spine, a scuffed cover and dog-eared pages. You hold the book in your hands and turn pages that are worn with wear. I have always known that I am not slick or glossy. I am a life that is worn away by rubbing...just like a velveteen rabbit.

Dianne ; )