What are three objects I couldn’t live without?

I had to laugh when I read today’s prompt: What are three objects you couldn’t live without? That’s a dangerous question for a guy like me.

The phrase “can’t live without” is a big one. Human beings lived for thousands of years without electricity, without cars, without phones, without tools beyond stone and iron. So if we’re being literal, I could live without most of what surrounds me.

But that’s not really the spirit of the question.

What separates us as humans from every other living creature isn’t just intelligence — it’s our relationship with objects. We design them. Improve them. Depend on them. Build our lives around them. A beaver builds a dam, but he doesn’t upgrade to a cordless impact driver.

Being a landlord, the first things that come to mind aren’t sentimental at all. They’re practical. My tools.

My drill. My impact driver. My plumbing wrenches. My voltage tester. My ladders. The shelves of labeled parts — valves, fittings, breakers, cartridges — that allow me to solve a problem in one trip instead of three. Those objects represent independence. They mean I don’t have to wait for someone else. If a toilet runs, a heater fails, or a tenant calls with an issue, I can handle it. Tools aren’t just objects to me — they’re capability sitting on a shelf.

Then there’s my phone. And let’s be honest — almost everyone would say that today.

It’s not just a phone. It’s my calendar, my banking center, my navigation, my camera, my notepad, my communication hub with my daughters and grandchildren. It runs my business. It tracks mileage to my buildings and estate sales. It lets me list an antique on eBay while standing in a flea market field. Twenty-five years ago I carried a Day-Timer, a flip phone, a camera, a GPS, and a stack of paperwork. Now it all fits in my pocket.

My computer falls into that same category. That’s where I write. That’s where The Watchers of Time lives. That’s where my family memoir grows chapter by chapter. It’s where I manage tenants, research antiques, analyze investments, and publish blogs. In many ways, it’s my printing press.

Then there are the quieter objects — the ones that remind me I’m not twenty-five anymore.

My eyeglasses. Without them, the world blurs. My hearing aids. Without them, conversation softens and I miss the edges of laughter at the dinner table. These aren’t luxury items. They’re bridges that keep me fully engaged with the people I love. They preserve connection.

My car is another one. Living here in Pennsylvania, especially doing what I do, a car isn’t optional. It gets me to properties, to auctions, to flea markets, to see my kids and grandkids. Freedom of movement equals opportunity. Take that away and life shrinks fast.

Even something as simple as my radio matters to me. There’s something grounding about hearing news, music, or a ballgame in the background while I’m working. And yes, the TV too. Not because I sit glued to it, but because shared moments — a game, a documentary, a movie with Marmie — still matter.

So if I truly had to narrow it down to three objects I “couldn’t live without” in the modern sense?

My tools — because they represent self-reliance.
My phone — because it connects and organizes my world.
My glasses and hearing aids — because they keep me fully present in it.

But if you asked a slightly different question — what are the three objects I like the most — that answer would change completely.

That might include something old. Something with history. Maybe my father’s coin. Maybe an antique I hunted down after years of searching. Maybe something simple that carries memory instead of utility.

Because the truth is, the objects we depend on help us function.

The objects we love help us remember who we are.

And that’s a much deeper question.