Amid the melting snows, optimistic blooms, imaginary cuckoos, and hardy young men in cargo shorts, early Spring brings cardboard boxes scattered on the sidewalk. "Free" is written on the sides of these oblong obstacles that contain the unwanted detritus of apartment living: Coffee mugs, mismatched plates, ancient videotapes and DVDs, Mexican souvenirs, a tennis racquet, unopened bottles of cheap perfume, some jigsaw puzzles, and assorted rusty tools. Bric-a-brac from a disposable age that people no longer require or have replaced but feel should not simply be tossed in their trash. Surely some needy passerby will want and claim a tangled collection of TV and computer cables?
There are many books, too. In fact, quite frequently such curbside giveaways are exclusively comprised of books. Nothing I would want to read, really, although I once saw a pile of published screenplays by Pier Paolo Pasolini with Fellini's Satyricon wedged in between them. And this morning there was a free library of books by Susan Sontag and several other writers we used to call "public intellectuals." This unexpected trove of essays and polemics reminded me that, pre-Internet, regular people like my neighbors engaged with unusual ideas, however controversial or unpleasant the ideas might be, rather than just devouring two-line memes and three word soundbites. I was reminded, also, of a college-educated intern we employed a few years ago who'd never heard of George Orwell or Albert Camus.
The world moves on, I guess. Things I treasured and considered important in my twenties are relegated to America's junk drawer these days. There is no Pasolini night at the local cinema anymore. The young man dressed in black reading The Stranger at a sidewalk cafe has been superseded by the brown giveaway cardboard box on the sidewalk, with a copy of The Stranger at the bottom, slightly obscured by Billie Holiday and Stan Getz CDs in cracked cases and years out-of-date street guides to Prague and Vienna. Perhaps I should get in the box myself, sit down to wait and see if somebody stops to peruse what's left of me. I'm not completely useless yet. I might even work with that other thing you have but don't know what to do with.
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