I was driving home from work last night when I thought of that book.

It had been years, perhaps decades since I thought about it, but at one time that book embodied a big chunk of what I wanted in life at the time.

When I got it, I was almost a junior in college. For some reason, I remember the yellow light in our bedroom at the house and lying on the top bunk of the bunk bed, holding that large volume over my head as I started to read it.

It was a phone book thick paperback, 672 pages in length, with a sold navy blue cover featuring a sizable black-and-white photo of the subject on the front. In bold italic serif caps above the photo was the title “Hemingway”, and under the photo, “A Biography”.

I don’t remember where I first saw it or heard of it- it may have been when I worked a short stint at a Waldenbooks in our local mall. But I remember wanting it for a while. And so, for my birthday that summer, my folks gave it to me. It was my big present, and I was elated.

Driving home last night, I guess I was thinking about stuff- stuff we have, stuff we collect, stuff we own but that we never use, stuff we forget about, stuffer we lose.

And I thought about that book, and how much I wanted it 30 years ago.

And the truth is, I don’t know that I ever finished it. Or even got a quarter of a way through it.

And I don’t know what happened to it.

Desire. How fickle it can be.

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How often do we get wired and worked up about something we want which, once possessed, loses its importance to us? And somehow ends up in that pile of stuff on the spare desk or under the bed in the guest room, in the stuff “we’ll get to later.”

I’m not talking about anything new. Shoe-shopping women understand this. As does the compulsive gambler, hoping for that next big payout. And the chronic achiever, aiming for that next title and position.

Most of us get caught looking for the shiny “next”, just out of reach. Usually shortly after seizing the last one.

Not thoroughly enjoying what we deeply wanted and finally found.

I find myself part of a large community on Facebook, which is embodied in about 7 boardgame groups. Most of the time, posts in these groups are about games that people have played, sharing about their play experiences, or about games that they have not played, and that they are interested in. With an explosion in boardgames made and boardgames played in recent years, there are always new gamers popping up in group chats asking about this game and that game, games unknown to them but known to the experienced hobbyists. And there are the hardcore gamers who have played all of the popular titles, who are often looking for the next obscure gem of experience.

Occasionally, in these groups, someone will pop on and throw in the common question: “How many games do you own that you have never played?” Inevitably, the question prompts an extended thread of responses by people describing the names and numbers of games they have bought- and have yet to play. And more often than not, the percentage of unplayed-to-owned is between 30 ro 40%.

I have to admit. I am one of those with a pretty good list of such games.

Something is wrong when our “next”- that thing we had to have- so easily and rapidly becomes stuff.

Because, at one time, I really really wanted lots of that stuff.

Like that eleven volume set of Will Durant’s “The story of Civilization” I got in California in 1993 that I promised myself I would one day read, and that has sat collecting dust on a bottom bookshelf shelf for a few decades.

If you don’t use it, it’s just stuff, and you can you probably live without it.

And if you think back and find that your “next” easily becomes stuff, you have a desire problem. You want just to want, not to have, to use, to appreciate.

Or, want has you.

I hope I find that book again sometime. I realize I would really like to read it.