No. of Recommendations: 14
The boy grew up in a happy neighborhood, among good friends. People shared what they had, and looked after one another. When a neighbor needed a hand with a chore, others
were there to help. If someone wanted to borrow a tool, or anything else, it was readily provided. The boy never knew anything else.
The boy liked to greet the mailman, and he took an interest in stamps. One of his neighbors, a teenager, invited the boy to come look at his own collection. The boy was delighted. “Here,” said the teenager, handing the boy the album, “borrow for it as long as you like.” And so the boy took it home. He kept it for years, for decades. As the boy and the teenager grew into manhood, the borrowed stamp collection was a sign of friendship.
As the boy aged, however, his interest in stamps grew into an obsession. He ceased to enjoy the stamps, to think about their beauty and their history. He simply wanted to possess them. He began to say puzzling things to the neighbor about the collection. Rather than seeing the loan as a sign of friendship, he seemed resent that the neighbor had any claim on the stamps at all.
One night he broke into his neighbor’s house with a gun. When the neighbor awoke, he pointed the gun and said: “You see that I can invade your house. If the stamp collection had been here instead of in my house, I could have stolen it. From now on that stamp collection is mine, and you have to admit it.”
What had the mad stamp collector done? He has the stamp collection, but of course he had it before. He wants everyone to say that now it is his possession, but no one does, least of all his neighbor. He has lost the neighborhood, and all the more important forms of cooperation. He sits at home and turns pages of the album. He writes his name in big letters on its cover.
Though the stamp collector is too mad to see it, he has destroyed the foundations of his own life. Until the night of the break-in, he could have borrowed anything he wanted from that neighbor, or from anyone on the block. Now every house is closed to him, and he no longer has friends, nor will ever have any. He has nothing except for his madness
Timothy Snyder
