Defined by Things

What would you do if you lost all your possessions?

We define ourselves in many and myriad ways.

One way we define ourselves is through our friends. Who we attract and associate with helps us determine who we are and who we think we are (or want to be). When a friendship is lost we often find a piece of ourselves lost as well.

Titles also define us. I found myself strongly defined by my working title: Associate Professor of Theatre Arts. When I retired, I often commented that a retired Associate Professor of Theatre Arts was really just retired; the moorings of that position came undone. When I later received Emeritus status, I felt reattached to an institution and a persona that helped determine who I am.

Clothes also define who we are. We put outfits on like costumes, to show the world how we think abut ourselves and our places in it. I find this a bit ironic, however; I’ll see someone in a particular ensemble and wonder how they chose that. What packaged action figure led them to select those particular clothing items in that combination? And do they think they now are that type of person? Clothes may make the man, but your loose basketball shorts and tank top accompanying your Dollar General bags do not convince me you’re a athlete or sports star, all other visual evidence to the contrary.

And our things, our possessions, define us. When I downsized a couple of years ago, I kept the things that are most meaningful to me. A Federal period (reproduction) antique desk. My mother’s Lane cedar chest that survived a flood and that I refinished. Only a small fraction of my library, but the books and DVDs that demonstrate my taste (like a complete collection of Philip K. Dick’s writings). Photographs, concert T-shirts, other specific clothing (see above paragraph).

And what if I lost all my possessions? Would I lose my identity? The essential me is still here, and I’m sure I’d still have my friends and my professional title. But that might be foundation-shaking for my psyche. I equivocate because I can’t really know unless I would experience that, and I hope I’m never in a situation to find out.

I created a frame for a recurring anthology series that borrows from this whole idea. It’s entitled, “Forsyte Self-Stor,” and the location is a self-storage unit. Our recurring character and narrator is the guardian of the place, and he waits patiently as survivors of the apocalypse wander in to reclaim their possessions. Of course, each arrival triggers a story about that visitor. I’ll be happy to sell that idea to anyone who wants to develop it for TV or streaming!