Letters of Transit to the Local Swap Shed
“What in heaven’s name brought you to Casablanca?”
I want to share how happy made me today. While I had planned going for some time, this was my actual opportunity to make it there — and it was great. Not only didI get some great stuff, but I also got to reflect on 2025 itself.
First of all, the community was lovely. Young, old, all backgrounds, all circumstances. The weather was nice, and the parking was easy. (And, I discovered, it’s walkable.) The setting was calm, upbeat, organized, and generous. Kids were having fun, the elderly were being assisted, and those in need were given due priority. Dogs played outside at a safe distance, and no one was turned away. I brought some items to donate, but that is not required.
Everybody seemed to understand the assignment: Take what you need or what sparks joy. (But don’t hoard or look to resell.)
I parted with some unused picture frames, some water bottles, and an old e-reader. In exchange, I got an excellent DVD of , a mobile DVD player, some cords and adapters for old tech, and a sign for the students at . The volunteers made it all easy to browse and to find, and they did it all with a smile. I felt as though they were genuinely glad to have us there, not just to bring good but, remarkably, to take them.
More to the point: My thinking on this has changed (maybe evolved?) over the years. I grew up in a comfortable ’80s suburbia where buying “new” was always the goal. Something about swap sheds or secondhand goods or yard sales or thrifting was considered suspect. Who had worn it before? What had they done to it? Why accept lower quality? Maybe children accepted hand-me-downs, and those in desperate circumstances needed this; supposedly, those with means and with *standards* fed the economy by going to the stores, going to malls, and getting the stuff that was still fresh in the packaging.
Why put our trust in anybody but the corporations? “I stick my neck out for nobody.”
That, my friends, was bullshit. Still is. Yes, obviously, we should assist those in need first and not snatch things out of their hands. And we should support local vendors and small businesses. But looking down at all on this sort of marketplace and communal space is itself a wasteful Reagan-era mentality. You don’t have to be an eco-warrior to see the benefit of reuse, and you don’t have to be scrooge to see the upside of free exchange. Maintain your eye for taste and your taste for quality, as you like. But let that elitism go. Just try to fucking share.
Better yet: “We all ‘try.’ You succeed.”
This may sound like I’m indicting , my childhood, or my family, and I am not. (Maybe I’m criticizing society and my specific demographic just a little — it’s okay, they can take it.) But I don’t know that anyone has ever truly benefitted from snobbery. And while I’m sure I still engage with it and in it — and even unconsciously endorse or rely on it in other areas of my life — I was able to escape it for at least an hour today at the Arlington Swap Shed. Others grew up with this wisdom and this delight, and, although late, I’m delighted to join them. I came away with renewed appreciation…and with Humphrey Bogart.
For all that, today, I’m grateful. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
