Before I loved basketball, I loved football. I'm not sure whether it was my mom (lifelong Patriots fan), dad (lifelong Packers fan), or NFL Quarterback Club for Nintendo 64 that turned me on to the sport, but I was enthralled, particularly by dazzling athletes and showmen like Deion Sanders and Randy Moss. More of a spectator than a participant, I was never fit to take part in any youth leagues; I was so small in comparison to my peers that my parents didn't dare let me try. I loved to play two-hand touch in the schoolyard, though, and my dad and I were always tossing a ball.
The first time I ever played touch football was during recess in the first grade. I was new to the school, and I can't recall how I became involved in the game. I do recall that, over the course of that recess, I caught three touchdown passes from a third-grade 49ers fan named Ricky. Ricky always played quarterback and essentially ran the schoolyard; he didn't know my name, but after I sprinted down the sideline for my third touchdown, he congratulated me and exclaimed, "this kid knows how to play football!" This happened roughly twenty years ago, yet it remains one of the most vivid memories of all my life, and probably the first time I can recall experiencing pride.
Indeed, football is a prominent theme throughout my memories of early life. In one of my fondest recollections, I enjoyed a grilled cheese sandwich and cucumber slices as I sat with my mom in her rocking chair and watched the Patriots defeat a foe. The simplest happiness still emanates from my memory of this tender experience, and for this reason I will always associate a certain warmth with the New England Patriots. The jersey of Ben Coates, one of the greatest Patriots of my childhood, is an item which takes me back. Recently, I was able to pick one up for the reasonable price of $46.
I presume that most would agree with the common sentiment that money can't buy happiness. However, when I take time to contemplate the impact of certain material things on my state of mind, I begin to view this matter in a different light. Take my purchase of this Ben Coates jersey, for example. The process of bidding on, paying for, and receiving, in addition to wearing it has naturally inspired my mind to consider one of the happiest memories of my life. The recollection of this memory proceeds to bring on some varying degree of the pleasant emotion I felt way back when I was five, contributing a dose of enthusiasm to my general state of mind.Money, of course, did not buy the memory that produces the pleasant emotion that makes me feel more content; but money most certainly did buy the jersey, which serves to stimulate the memory that produces the pleasant feeling that makes me feel more content. Thus, in a sense, the $46 I spent on my Ben Coates jersey bought me additional arbitrary access to a little piece of renewable happiness. I believe the arbitrary aspect is important because, sure, I could spend all day every day deliberately reminiscing about this memory, but I find that doing so doesn't produce the same sensation as randomly looking down at my shirt while I'm eating dinner and suddenly becoming immersed in sentimental feelings.
I've always been the type to spend my spare change on tangible goods rather than experiences; note that this blog is all about my collection of things. Yet I don't feel I'm a stereotypical materialistic individual, nor do I feel this tendency of mine to want things is detrimental. This is because the things I want tend to be those which I feel will, usually by association with some aspect of memory or culture, help me achieve a more desired state of mind or expression, which in turn contributes to my contentment throughout the everyday experiences that constitute my existence. I don't desire to travel to exotic locations or attend live events; rather, I find the most enjoyment in simple experiences, so I seek that which might add to these simple experiences.
