How bad is the supply chain shortage, really?

We’re hearing a lot lately about the supply chain breakdown. Merchandise is hard to come by; some items will take months to arrive at stores. For those in the retail business, this is tough. While I am not unsympathetic to the small outlets, I have a hard time shedding tears over the presumed losses mega-stores will suffer. I know, I know. Those stores employ people, and help keep the economy going. Lord knows we need jobs, and consumers, and more jobs, and consumers, etc.

Herein lies the problem. We are accustomed to a society that accepts an endless cycle of buying. Something is wrong with this picture. I happen to be in the midst of cleaning out my in-laws’ house — an immense task, given their 60-plus years’ accumulation of things. They were/are wonderful people, and it’s also fair to say they were good American consumers. I’m sure I’m not alone. How many descendants of the deceased or soon-to-be deceased are faced with this reality: What in the hell do I do with all this stuff?

Some call in a charity and ask them to pick it up. Everything goes away in a big van. The service is free and we can believe it went to a good cause. We make no money, but it’s out of sight and out of mind. We can get on with our lives.

Or we sell the big items and call in the van for the rest.

Or we piecemeal it. Once family and friends have had the opportunity to take what they want, we knuckle down. Maybe there is an initial yard sale, and after that, we go item by item. Bit by bit, photo by photo, post by post, we sell things off. Everything is scrutinized. We ask ourselves: Is this worth advertising? If not, it will be relegated to a thrift store.

Those who visit thrift stores or online sites for used goods are well aware how much merchandise is out there. They know which items are rare and which are in such surplus that an asking price of $10 is questionable. Make no mistake: The sheer number of goods in our world today is so overwhelming, so beyond the pale, that a 2080 archeologist might look back and say, “Really? Why was so much being manufactured at this time in history? At what cost to the environment?” Because everything manufactured is ultimately drawn from the earth’s resources. Too many basements, closets and attics are overflowing.

I’m a minimalist by some people’s standards. I try to do mostly with necessities. But I’ll never be a match for my mother, who owned one paring knife. And I’m no Gandhi — I want more than a single bowl and spoon. At the same time, it’s worth considering what our tolerances are. Do we want a house packed so full of things that we know longer know what we even own? Is it worth paying for a storage unit for items we may never again lay eyes on? What is the purpose of over-accumulation? Does it enhance or diminish our lives?

So when you hear about supply chain shortages, consider used goods. Chances are, whatever it is you are looking for is being sold at a reasonable price. Many things out there are in great condition, and some have never been opened.

Right now, I’d like to pull out the vintage Monopoly game I have listed for sale and challenge my husband. It would be fun to see who ends up with the most property, whether I will nail Boardwalk and Park Place or how many hotels he’ll put on the Pennsylvania Avenue block. It will be solely for amusement, and when we’re done with the game, we can store it all in a single, 10-inch by 20-inch box.

Anne Coray is a writer; her debut novel, “Lost Mountain,” was published in March 2021. She divides her time between Homer and her birthplace on Lake Clark.

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