My Great Paradox

In general, I still think most of the really good durable shit is still produced here in the U.S. -- furnaces, railroad axles, manhole covers, mining equipment, hardcover books, carpet, microprocessors, power transformers, dentist drills, etc.

But as I look around my room here, I can rattle off all the items not produced in my own country: scotch tape, computer speakers and printer, ball point pens, lampshade, light bulb, iPod speakers, CD rack, television, electric pencil sharpener, glass chess set, power strips, paperclip holder, Easter basket, massage chair...and the shirt on my back.

But the stapler...man, this thing was built well, by Arrow in Brooklyn. And it looks old, like maybe 1988. That is old in household equipment terms. As I look around -- what else might also have been produced 20 years ago? The answer is nothing. Not even my room is 20 years old.

What in this room will still be in service in 2028? Outside of my picture frames, some books, and a small shelving unit I built a few years back, I suspect nothing will survive. Except maybe the stapler. Tastes change, the lamp will get tossed, the window shades will be changed, the particle board furniture will dissolve, the phones will break -- all these and all my son's toys will end up in the landfill.

So it is that consumer spending drives most of our economy. What I have to do, which will be impossible, is to learn to live without a clock in the room. Or a game console, or two cordless phones. Or a glass chess set that has never once been played. It will be impossible, because I live in a family that does not choose to stop consuming. The drive to change simply isn't there, and I won't make any effort to try because I also value my relationships.

So I make personal decisions, and that's the best I can do. Just like I can't change a sheet metal worker's commuting habits, I can't change my own families' habits either. Reducing consumption is something they and the majority of Americans don't value. And I can see why, what with all the advertising, the Jones' next door, and the ability to buy a shitload of cheap merchandise from cheap overseas labor.

So this is My Great Paradox -- I'll claim I live a life of personal virtue, commuting by bike and bus and the like, and all the while owing three vehicles, a boat, two computers, five televisions and three refrigerators in the distant suburbs in a big house filled to the rafters with foreign merchandise with no hope of ever being able to live without all this stuff.