We've all got so much stuff. It bursts out of closets and drawers. Attics and garages groan with sleds and skis and skates; weed whackers, trimmers, chippers and mowers; ornaments, beach chairs, croquet sets, Tupperware, old clothes, books, stray Lego blocks and piles and piles of things that no one uses or needs that we can't bear to throw away. And every weekend, the malls are choked with people frantically buying more. I'm as bad as anybody. I have a house clogged to the rafters with useless stuff. I call it "interior decorating". My husband calls it madness. Yet there he is, sitting atop towering heaps of old car magazines, tools, coins, scale models, and bicycles (we have seven). We had a garage sale and unloaded a solid acre of stuff, only to rush out and replace it all. Pause long enough to give it any real thought and it seems nuts. We're not sick though - we're American consumers.

Out of this manic swirl of getting and spending has arisen a great new democratic institution: Ebay. Here people cheerfully dump their stuff and ask the age-old question: what'll you give me for it? One man's worthless ceramic poodle salt and pepper shakers are another man's prized collectible. On Ebay, nothing is pointless, nothing is crap, and almost nothing goes unwanted. It's become an industry for certain enterprising shoppers who scour yard sales and flea markets for things that can be resold online. I would argue that it's a fairly accurate mirror of our culture too. Want to know what America is all about? Spend a few days perusing the auctions and along with an honest look at our trash and treasures, you'll get a glimpse into our fundamentally decent natures.

Designed to be a simple auction site, Ebay is kept honest by a procedure called "feedback". Buyers and sellers rate each other for quality of merchandise, accuracy of description, and timely shipping. Good feedback is actively solicited. The Ebay community deals harshly with liars and deadbeats. Cheaters of any kind are shunned. Sellers present their wares with photos and upbeat, earnest stories about the item's value, or history, or defects. Sometimes just a terse few lines accompany a piece of say, Depression glass. Often though, the story accompanying the merchandise is more interesting than what's being sold. Occasionally a story is so compelling that I'm tempted to call the seller to hear more. I've made a hobby of reworking my favorite Ebay descriptions into poems, like this one:

Goldwing Auction

I just added fifteen pictures of the bike to our website.

Yes, this bike does have a salvage title -Which means

Sixty-five percent of the bike was damaged.

This was a mint Goldwing.

I talked to the prior owner yesterday.

Yes, it was in an accident.

A moose was quartering the road in the same direction he was driving.

He hit the moose in the side and

Bounced off, going thirty miles per hour.

The right side damage was a mailbox he ran into.

The bike never went down.

He drove the bike home.

He said it didn't pull at all but the dealer thought the bracket was tweaked.

From this they totaled the bike.

The moose was fine.

I have driven the bike and it seems fine.

You all know how insurance works -

All it takes is some complaining to get what you want.

Especially when it's not your fault.

Call with any questions.

We can answer them all.

We are not trying

To rip anyone

Off.

Only in America does a man ricochet off a moose and a mailbox and ride away unhurt. Only Americans could invent something both futuristic and folksy like the virtual marketplace that is Ebay. I may never meet the mysterious collectors and strangers whose stuff I covet, but their stories don't go untold. Like it or not, we reveal our truest selves in the things we crave, and keep, and discard. It delights me to know that all of our collective junk is now traveling merrily around the nation, finding new basements and garages to gather dust in. It's a uniquely American form of recycling. Speaking of recycling, here's a haiku inspired by another seller, his pitch being more a reminder of our mortality than an ad for a car:

My Beemer wagon

Struck pole, flipped twice, all lost.

You can buy for parts.