U.S. Patent 2,189,286
May 6, 19:00
I require the use of a View-Master. For a top secret project.
And I thought I had one somewhere. I did as a child; I remember the viewer more than I remember anything I ever viewed through it. It was an orangish almost-red, with an orange lever for advancing frames. Like this one. The sound produced by moving of the lever was the best part, aside from being able to view stereoscopic images in the comfort of one’s home.
In one corner of the basement are boxes of items I have aquired but no longer have a need for. This mess of belongings can be separated into two groups: childhood possessions and junk. I needed something that I was certain could be found in the former group, so I went into the basement and dug around to attempt the removal of one View-Master and any associated parts.
I never really think about the things I have stored in the basement, unless I need one of them. For the most part this leads me to assume that everything I ever had as a child is down there, even though numerous times in the past few years I have gone searching for physical proof of a memory and come up empty handed. Today was another fruitless excursion into the boxed-up past, and as I un- and re-wrapped bundles of packing paper I thought about all the stuff that was waiting for me in the basement.
Most of what is down there is being held under an ‘in-case’ theory: It will be there in case I want to get it out. In case when I am older I want to show it to the kids I might have or give to them to show to the kids they might have. Or perhaps one day I will have a compulsion to get out the Micro Machines Gas Can that morphes into a fully functional parking garage and auto repair garage, in which case I’ll be ready.
Have you ever seen a garbage truck on the road- how it leaves a trail of little papers and scraps in its wake? I think that is how my boxes are, each time I move from one residence to another a bit gets left behind or thrown away or abducted. I don’t remember the past all that well, for whatever reason, and these boxes in my basement represent a part of me that I may never get back.
This is where the digital age and my obsession with computers comes in handy: If there is something I remember that can no longer located, it is easy enough to find another just like it. Because there are people out there that are willing to get rid of their old belongings. And there are people like me that are just as willing to buy them.