The grim repairer

Last week I took an old and well travelled bag in for repair. I purchased the bag in 2004 for about $250. Since then it has literally been around the world 4 times and in this journey has become a standard part of my on boarding routines. The perfect shape and size for laptop, in flight reading and a pair of overnights. But then in February this year, the zipper broke and it was not safe to carry its little load. In Denver I found a luggage repair store and they now have it in their care for $40 and a shot at reuniting us.

But is this now a lost or even redundant art? Is the art of growth inside the experience being supplanted by the skill of search and discovery? Milan's iPod had a similar issue. The volume buttons got stuck and the repair would cost more than $200. The friendly Apple people would gladly take the old one as a trade in contribution towards the purchase of a new one, as long as it resulted in shifting something from their shelves. Apple is not alone in their pursuit of new sales as apposed to share of experiences. New sales and production determine market share and trajectory in the eyes of analysts. This reality all but removes the incentive to build things that can be repaired. Planned obsolescence is now a de facto requirement for company valuation.

Is my nagging discomfort with this state of things simply a fading remnant of misplaced morality? Recently I read a quote form a couple who had been married for 80 years. When asked how they had made it so long, the husband said: "We grew up in a time where when something was broken, you fixed it."

When I look at the reality for my kids though, there is almost nothing that either prompts them to, or reminds them of the waning art of repair. Awareness is shaped and rewarded by the constant streams on screens. Where friendship clicks only serve to fill your news feed and everyone needs followers only to believe in themselves. No one has time to retrace their steps, revisit decisions and reconnect with lost ones. And through this lack of exercise, the repair muscles become atrophied in favor of search and discovery skills.

The hidden cost of this though, is that there are certain dimensions of our personality that we can only discover through the process of rebuilding relationships. We never see or even know this growth exists if we only have speed dated, limited shelf live, match.coms with single soccer moms/Johns. The seratonin kicks of "new and exciting" can now sustain itself through the all you can eat smorgasbord of new connections available on the web. In this world it is frankly illogical to take on the heartache and opportunity cost of repair, when selective search can instantly bring a new beginning. And it is easier to mould a two month persona where every conversation is being held for the first time. You are in control of your limited exposure id-entity. Neither repair nor recovery, which are only learnt though moving beyond failure, are needed or developed. Failure now prompts a new search outside, instead of resourcefulness inside.

But how can people learn this if their context shouts against sticking to something? Are they trapped in a catch 22 where a failure to develop repair and recovery skills leads to an inability to know or develop these skills?

I took my kids to the tiny luggage store, dusty and hidden away in a corner of the industrial outskirts of Denver. We also spent the day visiting pawn shops, to reflect on the cast away lives and hopes that had no more value than a few dollars, and the trade in value towards a shiny new thing. I am sure there will soon be an app for that.