Ownership

I am sitting in end-summer heat listening to a flowered fountain at a lovely walled garden in a public park. No one else here at the moment. I love such moments in such places, and marvel at how our culture increasingly discounts them.

My wife or brother-in-law, for example, no sooner see something then they want to possess it. Exclusivity is happiness. If there are beautiful roses down the street, we must have beautiful roses on our own property.

Collectors go one step further and seek to squirrel away unique items for their own pleasure only. Why? I have never quite understood. Quiet privacy, yes, or even convenient access to a frequently seen item. But I get no warm and fuzzy feeling from the thought that I alone have this.

A few of my friends go even further, and love to list experiences that I have not had and never will. As if seeing such a thing, eating at such a place, doing such an adventure is a mark of superiority.

Honestly, I do not fit into this culture. I am grateful for access to this beauty. Happy to help pay for it. Content that others use it also. Owning it for my own exclusive use would be criminal diminution.

We are a social species. We should encourage our social sharing. Wonderful parks help us do so.

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