What does a name mean? Does it recall memories of your parents calling you down for dinner? Perhaps the crisply printed letters at the top of that college acceptance letter? Or maybe how it made you feel when that person said he or she loved you for the first time? How it resonated before your best friend’s mother found the strength to tell you that friend wasn’t coming home? You went through those occurrences. But is it your name that recalls those emotions and experiences? Does your name define who you have grown to be? If your name suddenly disappeared or never existed at all would that mean your best friend came back, your parents never called you for dinner, and that person never truly loved you?
Those memories triggered by the touch of a hand, a voice, or thought, reside within you, within your body, no matter what your name is. A woman does not lose her past by adopting her husband’s last name. Her memory is not wiped. She is still the same woman. She has still experienced specific emotions at specific times with specific people. She now has the opportunity to build upon the person she has come to be.
Vern’s old Volvo follows the same notion. The heap of parts from the old Volvo, the original Volvo, is truly Vern’s Volvo. That car, though in a pile, makes up the reminder of the drives Vern took. Whether in a heap or as a whole, the car is no different. The parts of that Volvo each have their own history with Vern and altogether compose his life. Yes, the new Volvo has driven new roads and taken Vern other places in his life, but that does not mean the old Volvo simply disappears; it would be like erasing Vern’s past. Calling the new Volvo “Vern’s Volvo” does not give it the experiences the other Volvo had with Vern and can not take away those experiences from the parts of the original car, just like the change of a name can not erase one’s past. The entity of the original individual is of key importance and defines what truly is Vern’s Volvo.
In understanding that both Volvos can not be Vern’s true Volvo, we must make a sacrifice of some truth. The new Volvo does play a part in Vern’s history and memories, yet the old Volvo is the basis of those memories; by erasing the base there is no stone upon which new experiences may step. So, in understanding reality or truth, we must make concessions. There is no such thing as true truth, but only fragments upon which we must build our individual truths. For Vern, the original parts of his car, whether in a heap or as a whole, define the basic objective truth of his Volvo. The new parts are true pieces of a car, but not the car. Grace could not have built the new Volvo without the structure the old Volvo gave and neither she nor Vern could have understood how the car worked without the basic knowledge of the Volvo in its original form. Any new experiences Vern has with his new Volvo will enhance his idea of reality and inner truth only because they build off the experiences given by the old Volvo. It is impossible for the new Volvo to exist without the truth the old Volvo held. Without a base, a pyramid will fall and its layers reaching to the sun crumble with no meaning. The layers can be repaired and rebuilt after they erode, but the base must hold strong. If it erodes there is no pyramid left, leaving nothing upon which to rebuild.
