Inner Andy Rooney #101

Files

Why do we have so many files? What happened to that glorious, paperless future we were sold? I happen to like paper, always have. Paper is diverse. Thick, thin, full of color or business black and white. Some of it’s glossy, which I never understood. Are you trying to make it hard to read? I’m more of a nice matte guy. I bet I would’ve loved papyrus, it seems very tactile. And there’s a scent to paper, never the same, but always kindly associated. I suppose the scent is actually ink, but the paper is critical.So, I’ve gathered paper(s), printouts, letters, cards, notebooks, scraps, newspapers, magazines, napkins, manuals and more. Which is why I need more and more files. But I think it’s gotten out of control.

I mean, just over there on the west wall, I have a cabinet to put them all in. Right here, there’s a stack lazily scattered on my desk; waiting for their departure to the west side of the room, I suppose.And here on this computer (yes, I use one now) there’s tons of them, clouding up the screen, in different colors, sometimes with misspelled names next to them! It’s an epidemic.

There’s a whole industry at work here. Professional “file” dealers are everywhere. Folders, tabs, name cutouts, different sizes, some with pockets; and what really gets me: sheet protectors! Why the hell do I need a sheet protector to put my protective file in that will eventually (it hopes) reside on the west side of the room in that overly-bulky, fireproof, protective, cabinet for files?

It just makes no sense. And yet, I’m guilty. I love paper. So, I love files. I like when they are alphabetically sectioned,or even better, grouped by interest. It makes them seem more creative that way. But I wouldn’t really know, I never look at them anyway. In fact, I get batteries out of that “filing cabinet” more often than anything else. (These remotes these days, huh kids?)

I suppose it’s a kind of ‘security blanket syndrome’ that makes us keep them. The idea that I can somehow keep knowledge safely “over there” makes me feel more powerful, I guess. Maybe I’m hopeful that I will one day have the time to go through them, but I never will. Maybe I secretly hope that the idea to revolutionize the world is in there and someday it will be found, but it’s probably not.

Maybe, just maybe, those files are kept right there, so that on some future day (long away, I hope) when I am no longer here, they will serve as a record of what I couldn’t part from, no matter how inconsequential. Maybe, on that day, people will understand me better than I ever could have. Maybe they’ll find poems I never published and see how much I loved them. Maybe they will find an idea to help millions of people scribbled on a bar napkin and make it a reality. Maybe they’ll find this piece, and wonder why I never looked in those files.

So, with that, I’ll file this on my desktop in a nice folder. Might just print it out (I use those now too), put it on the desk and make it pine for a trip out west.

On second thought, this will not be filed.