Gillian Kendall’s essay on all her possessions [“All My Things Considered,” February 2004] was right on the mark. I am an eBay seller and have sifted through many estate sales, yard sales, garage sales, thrift-store bins, and even the occasional overstuffed dumpster. I know too well how a person can become weighed down by material accumulation thanks to someday-I’m-going-to-use-this thinking. Some of my happiest days were living in a college dorm, when I had only a few clothes and the books on my desk.
I try to live simply after seeing how having too much keeps most folks immobile, frozen among the dust of memories or unfulfilled dreams. I hope that, before I die, I can give away, throw out, or sell almost everything I own. I want it all to go into good hands instead of into the public landfill or piled at the curb with a “Free” sign, the wind picking at the pages of my poems.