Today I got a package in the mail from an old friend variously known as Chuck, Chuckie V, Carlos V, and Funny Bone.
And 10 more Devo CDs, A Mark Mothersbaugh CD (Muzik for Insomniacs) and a couple of Devo tribute cds.
Not to mention a can of tuna, a toothbrush, some almonds, some Carlos V candy bars ("milk chocolate style"), a bike multi-tool, a cycling jersy, a camp towel, an Auduban field guide to North American Birds, Into the Wild by John Krakauer, Lynne Truss' Eats, Shoots and Leaves and a book about reading weather patterns.
This isn't the first time Chuck has given me his stuff. In the 80s he gave the first (and probably only) issue of the Club Devo newsletter, The Brainwasher. I still have it. He did not give me the Yellow Suit which was fine because the letters, D, E, V and O wore off.
Although it is super fun to get a package in the mail and even funner when it is full of Devo Cds, there is also a bitter-sweet quality to this gift. It is like saying goodbye to part of our childhood. The Devo part. We used to write Devo all over our high school: on walls, clocks, lockers, girls. We never really got close enough to girls to write on them. Chuck, I suppose, is lightening his load, getting rid of worldly possessions. That is cool. Everyone admired Ghandi and he hardly owned anything. I imagine small part of Chuck did not want to get rid of all this stuff. But a bigger part of him did. (I will not specify parts). How should I feel for wanting this stuff? Is there a message? Should I re-evaluate my life? Should I give away a bunch of stuff? I was thinking I might weigh the contents of the box and give away an equal amount. Maybe I'll send it to Chuck.
If this sounds ungrateful, it aint. I love Chuck and love that he thought of me when he decided to give stuff away. Thanks Chuck. Any spare bikes?