I’ve got these certain two pairs of heavy wool socks. They’re a sort of salt ‘n pepper combo of black and white. Nothing special. Even so, they make me smile almost every time I put them on, because I remember when I bought them.

I was in Oslo, Norway, and about to take a trip north to near the site of Lillehammer Olympics for some whitewater rafting. It was late Spring 2000, and I needed the socks to keep my feet warm on/after the rafting. (I also got a sweater, for after.) Sometimes I marvel at the young me who thought nothing of taking a detour in my European vacation and just jumping on a charter bus full of Norwegians, blissfully ignoring the fact that I had no clue what anyone was saying. (Though they were quite marvelous to me, and fortunately on my raft, the commands were in English.)

Socks are perhaps an odd way to commemorate an experience like that, but they fit into what I think is a pretty good philosophy: the only things you should keep are those that fall into the category of being beautiful, useful, or meaningful. If it’s more than one, all the better. (I’m counting these socks as two.)

Easier said than done? Perhaps. But as a guiding principle on what to keep and what to dump, I think it’s a damn good start.

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