I think it’s safe to say that the average person likes new things. New clothes, new phone, new shoes, new furniture, new books, etc. etc. etc. These days you blink and your electronics are out of date. If you’re a parent, you turn around and your toddler has removed the bookmark out of the book and bent the cover. Throw a new shirt in the washer for the first time, and you can pretty much guarantee that it will not come out looking quite as bright and crisp as when you brought it home from the store.
After my daughter was born I got into the world of babywearing. For those not familiar with the concept, it is literally what it sounds like – wearing your baby. There are lots of ways to wear a baby – wraps, ring slings, mei tais, soft-structured carriers, and within each of those categories there are lots of brands and types. There is a huge subculture out there of parents who want to wear their babies to be close to them (or, let’s face it, also for sanity during those moments when that baby will only be happy being held but you need to get something done!). Within that subculture there are lots of support pages where you can ask questions about technique, carrier preference type, etc. and beyond that there are lots of pages to buy, sell, and trade used carriers. One question that is commonly asked by newbies is, “Why would I want to buy a used wrap/carrier when I can buy the exact same one brand new and for the same price?” The answer…?
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My last living grandparent, my maternal grandmother, died the day after Thanksgiving of this past year. At her funeral, my uncle shared a story about her couch. As soon as he said the word “davenport” the whole family laughed because we knew he was referring to an old, sickly-green colored, lumpy, slightly uncomfortable couch that sat in her living room from well before I was born until a year before she passed. It was the kind of couch that was so old and misshapen, that if you sat down, well, good luck getting back up! My uncle said he had offered many times to buy her a new couch, and truth be told, she had enough money to buy herself a new couch 10x over without much impact to her financial situation. But she always said no, the one she had was fine, thank you very much.
My grandma was a little, old, feisty, very stubborn Chinese woman, and if she told you yes or no, it was best not to mess with her. If she was going to give you something to eat, you were going to eat it. If she wasn’t going to accept the fact that you were going to pay for a meal, you were not going to get away with paying. She taught me a lot about how to stand your ground (for better or worse) and how to fight for what you believe. She was also a proud woman who worked hard and she wasn’t interested in handouts. But that’s not why she said no to the new couch. No, it was because she actually wanted that old, ugly couch. That couch symbolized the memories of 4 generations. Countless Sunday afternoons with grand-kids had happened on that couch. Fiancés and new babies had been introduced on that couch. Neighbors and friends had sat on that unsightly, uncomfortable davenport. That couch was filled with history and worn with love.
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So why buy a used wrap? Because it’s broken in, it’s easier to use, and it’s already held another baby close to his or her parent. Because it’s been loved.
We do this to ourselves and each other, too. We’re obsessed with newness not only with things we can buy, but of ourselves. How many new diets are trending at any given time? How many products can you purchase to “maintain your youthful look”? How many self-help books are published each year? How many times you have tried to reinvent yourself into something new to hide the old, worn out, seemingly ugly version of you?
As a society we are unashamedly desirous of the new in all things. But as people traveling through life, we cannot remain in a new, untouched state. With each trial, each joy, each heartache, and each celebration we are worn and weathered. In each moment we are broken-in and used. Maybe we look at ourselves and see an unsightly, lumpy, davenport and we long for a new model of ourselves. After all, who wants to stop and sit on such an ugly couch?
I do. And I know others that do, too. I want to know what part of the story caused that small mark on the cushion. I want to know what heartache caused that rip. I want to know what joy caused that lump because somebody was jumping up and down on the cushion. Because this is life and it is beautiful. We might not look new anymore, but it’s because we’re not. Instead, we’ve been on a journey that fades us some days, but softens us on others, out-dates us one year, but rereads us during the next. We are not the same as when we began and things may not be as comfortable, but that does not mean that we need to be thrown out. No, you are fine and good, thank you very much, and I’m happy to sit and stay a while.
