One person’s treasure is another person’s dumpster fodder. My 13-year old son thinks that I’m a hoarder; in some respects I may be. After all, I have books older than him, and no I don’t know why I would have saved my textbooks for that long.

One Man’s Treasure

Over the past few months, my wife Lisa and I have been cleaning out our basement storage room. This summer, it will be eleven years since we moved into our house. Like so many others, we boxed up treasures from our old house to be sorted and stored safely in the new one. But it’s been eleven years and most of the boxes were right where we put them on move-in day. With the exception of a thick layer of dust, the boxes were largely unchanged.

Round one started a month ago; it was time to go through boxes labeled “Al’s Office”. Reluctantly, I opened each box and sorted the contents as if it were sacred and were off to the Smithsonian, when in fact, I was merely trying to determine if the contents should go in the trash, the recycle dumpster, be donated or moved to a permanent box for future enjoyment. I found term papers, college text books, hand written journals and even a few books that I purchased for sheer enjoyment.

A Hoarder?

“You’re a hoarder! You’re a hoarder!” my son exclaimed. I tried to assure him that just because I wanted to hang onto a few things, it didn’t make me a hoarder. But there is no arguing with a 13-year old

Of Mice and Men

I only buy books related to my interests, at that time it was mostly business strategy and sailing. In one of my many boxes of keepsakes I found a book that I fondly remembered; Who Moved my Cheese? by Spencer Johnson. I wanted to save this one so I moved it to a permanent box. This book was a keeper, it had all of the hallmarks of the type of book that I really like; short, large font and pictures. The content was pretty good too.

The story line follows two mice named Sniff and Scurry and two little people that were this size of mice named Hem and Haw as they learn to adapt to finding cheese in a maze. It begins with both the mice and the little people racing through the maze eager to find the cheese, which they soon do. Once they find the cheese, they get the nourishment that they need and are satisfied.

Each day, they race to find the cheese and soon come to the realization that it is in the same place as the day before. This continues for some time, while the mice do not let up in their intensity to obtain their portion of cheese, the little people soon do and see the cheese as more of an entitlement rather than something that required their full attention. One morning, both the mice and the little people entered the maze in their daily quest for cheese. Of course, the mice get there first and find that there is no cheese.

A while later, the little people arrive at their usual destination and discover the same thing, no cheese; hence the title of the book. I don’t want to spoil the story for you, so I will omit the nail-biting details. In essence, the story is about one’s ability to recognize incremental changes and the willingness, or lack thereof, to adapt if circumstances require.

Finally the Point

Good health, physical or emotional, in some respects is like the cheese, it is a treasure nearly everyone wants, some more than others are willing to work towards, with changes experienced incrementally over time. I did not wake up one day with the symptoms that I have now; it started with a slight and occasional tremor that Lisa noticed when drank coffee. Soon others, with whom I had less frequent contact, noticed subtle differences in my stance and posture.

Parkinson’s was becoming a part of my life before I even knew there was anything wrong with me. Like the little people, I was oblivious to the subtle changes that I was experiencing. One day, the way that I viewed my health fundamentally changed, sure it was changing incrementally for quite some time, but not until a doctor named it did it take a place of permanency in my psyche. That was the day that someone moved my cheese.

Like the little people, either I assumed that I would always be healthy enough to do the things that I always wanted or needed to do, or I was entitled to good health. But that mindset proved to be incorrect. In the case of PD, no diet or amount of exercise could have prevented it. No one, at least that I am aware of, has been promised health and prosperity. Like, Haw, I was reluctant to accept the changes in my condition because I was unsure how to adapt.

Even without clarity of direction or certainty of outcome, I still had to navigate through my maze; I had to go to work each day, I had to mow the lawn, I had a family that needed me. I had to find new cheese in my labyrinth; the alternative, to wait until my cheese returned would be catastrophic.

But was there new cheese out there? Would I have to settle for cheese that is ordinary, like the cheese that comes in a plastic wrapper, when what I really wanted was a cheese that was extraordinary, like an aged cheddar? Over time, I did find new cheese in my maze; cheese that has proven to provide for my physical and emotional needs. The old cheese is gone forever and it would be foolish for me to wait for its return.

The story of the mice and the little people doesn’t end tragically; no rodents or little people were harmed in its retelling. But each of them had to learn to adapt and each did in their own way and in their own time. Some learn to let go of the past more quickly than others, and those that do find new cheese sooner.

In My Time

In hindsight, I may had been a little slow in my willingness to return to my maze on my quest for new cheese, but eventually I did. What I found was new cheese, better cheese and I learned that the prospect of returning to the maze was only as daunting as I allowed it to be. But it took work, it took a deliberate action and it had to be on my time.

In hindsight, using the metaphor of the mice, they had it right. They acted on their sheer survival instincts. When the cheese that they relied upon was gone, they acted. They didn’t over-think the situation because they were in tune to the subtleties that were taking place on a daily basis.

In contrast, the little people, returned to the spot many times where they originally found cheese hoping that the cheese would return but it never did. Soon the little people had to part ways because the wiser of the two came to the conclusion that if he wanted cheese, or wanted to survive, he had to leave what he was accustomed to and go out and do something about it.

I thought this quote by JP Morgan included in a previous post bears repeating, “The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide you’re not going to stay where you are.”

I am a Hoarder

If I hadn’t confronted the reality of my son’s accusation that I was a hoarder, I may never have found this book. There were words of wisdom, presented in a whimsical way, in that little book that I thought could be put to good use someday. That’s the difference between saving and hoarding! I would encourage you to order a copy of your own from Amazon, it just may be the best $2.16 you spend. Shipping extra, of course!

Thanks for taking time out of your busy lives to read a tale about mice, and mazes. Your maze is unlike my maze, but its challenges are real, the outcomes are uncertain and your journey may take you to places you never intended and experiences that you never thought possible. I hope that you enjoy your new cheese!

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