want vs- need — Formerly Mine

Inky keeps a nonchalant watch over our Soles 4 Souls donations. I've never been one to splurge on shoes, nor do I have a vast collection. However, I've been hanging on to quite a few pairs that I no longer wear. Some are a bit out of style, while others are in need of a little repair; functionally though, they are all in okay shape.

Over the years, I have donated quite a bit of clothing to Big Brothers/Big Sisters and the Vietnam Veterans Association, but for whatever reason I've never really thought to donate my old, worn shoes. A few months back, however, I came across a photo spread in National Geographic's Green Guide that completely changed my mind. (Check it out here: What Happens to Donated Shoes.)

Soles 4 Souls, the program featured here, collects new and used shoes for both children and adults whose lives have been impacted by tragedy or hardship. Inspired by the sight on television of a single shoe washed ashore following the 2004 tsunami that hit Southeast Asia, its founder Wayne Elsey, has overseen the donation of more than 3.4 million pairs of shoes to date. He estimates that, throughout America, there are 1.5 billion pairs of unworn shoes in our closets. Billion. I can easily account for a dozen or so pairs.

I rooted around in our hallway closet and dusted off the shoes you see above, bundled each pair together and dropped them off at a nearby collection site. Easy as that. Find a collection site near you.

"Buy better, buy less." -- John Fluevog

I've always preferred quality to quantity. Give me a handful of cashmere sweaters over a cedar chest full of pilly blends. A couple of classic handbags over an array of knock-offs. A few pieces of real jewelry over a mound of the costume stuff. But on many occasions I've cheaped out on shoes (a) because I'm pretty hard on them and (b) because they're waaay down there and I don't think anybody really notices (or cares) what's on my my feet.

While I'm happy that I was able to fill the Soles 4 Souls box with so many pairs of shoes from my own closet (and there are more to come), I'd much rather embrace the John Fluevog approach and be more selective in my shoe purchases, thinking about the long-term socioeconomic benefit. While the dollar amount may be low, it's the "hidden" expenses (like sweatshops) that don't sit so well with me. I'm sure some of my shoes came from less-than-ideal conditions, but I'm happy to know that they will be put to continued use. And in the future, I'll think twice before buying a new pair of shoes.

freshwater_pearl_necklace I received this pretty little freshwater pearl necklace from some distant relatives when I was in--I'm guessing here--the eighth grade. Birthday? Christmas? The details are fuzzy. This branch of the family tree was sporadic in its gift giving. Not that gifts should ever be expected, but we just weren't that close with one another, bloodlines or not. Perhaps that explains why I never developed a sentimental attachment to this necklace. Most of the jewelry I wear has a little story behind it, like Gramma Rita's peridot ring or her lovebirds necklace. This necklace did not. After nearly 20 years of it sitting in my dresser drawer, I decided it was time to give it a new lease and connect it with someone who would feel a sense of attachment to it.

I posted it on Craigslist in the free section and explained my desire to give this piece of jewelry a story and meaning and a sense of value. My one request was to know why they were interested in my old piece of jewelry--something beyond it street value. I figured the right person would present him or herself in time.

In fact--quite a few people would have given this necklace the sense of value I was looking for. People opened up to me. It was overwhelming and heartwarming and more than a bit humbling. Throughout my life, I have been fortunate to receive a number of beautiful pieces of jewelry--both heirlooms and new pieces. I know that I'm lucky for all that I have, but this quest of connecting my old necklace with a new owner helped me see that luck and good fortune are not all about an accumulation of things.

I gave the necklace to a woman named Michelle who, quite simply, wanted it for herself. Her story was honest and personal and full of promise, hope, and goodwill. She was a hard worker with a big heart--strong on the outside, sensitive on the inside--and had been a giver her whole life. However, her interest in this necklace was not coming from a place of "it's time for me to receive a little something." Rather, she was on the cusp of making some healthy, positive changes in her own life--all the while dedicating herself to giving her daughter a life of abundance. This pretty piece of jewelry was a way to comemorate the woman she is--both where she has come from and where she is headed.

Being well off has little to do with money and everything to do with perspective. That's the lesson she taught me. Finally, that little necklace has a sense of meaning. I need not have it around my neck to remember its story.