Outgrowing ostentation

In an old family photograph, my maternal grandparents are seated in the centre. Beside and behind them are their daughters and sons, along with spouses and children. I am in the front row, wearing splendid clothes and a sullen expression.

Shortly before leaving for the studio, my cousin and I got into an argument about who was better attired. I haughtily told her that my frock was edged with diamonds. They were actually bits of glittering glass but, at the age of seven, I believed they were priceless gems. Not to be outdone, my cousin (three years younger to me) declared that the colourful dolls adorning her white-collar were prettier than my sparkling stones.

Recently, both of us laughingly discussed our heated debate. We ruefully admitted that on the day the picture was taken, nearly six decades ago, neither dolls nor diamonds enhanced our appearance. ‘Smile,’ said the cameraman coaxingly. We sulked, and our frowning faces were preserved for posterity.

I cringe when I recall my behaviour. Still, I am sure that there are others like me, who once boasted about their belongings. I basked in admiration as I rode around on my blue bicycle. I valued my board-games largely because they were the envy of my playmates. I was smugly aware that my miniature, rose-patterned tea-set was a fine piece of craftsmanship. My friends were no less pretentious. When they obtained toys and books that would interest me, they were quick to flaunt their fortune.

Showing off (the term we used at school) by kids is perhaps pardonable. It should not, however, continue into adulthood. St Paul wrote to the early church in Corinth, Greece, saying that when he was a child, he spoke, thought and understood as a child but later ‘put away childish things. Immoderate and immodest talk of one’s acquisitions and achievements is immature, so let us desist from displaying pride in our possessions. I have long since outgrown my ‘diamond’ dress, but have I outgrown ostentation?