Secondhand Kindness is First on My List

I was milling through local Craigslist listings the other day, when a thought popped into my head: My apartment has a lot of things in it that I didn’t buy.

My kitchen table, chairs, recliner, television stand, mattress, desk, dresser and plenty of other items were all given by friends and family throughout the years. These were not bought as gifts, but are old, unwanted possessions that found their way into my life secondhand.

And I love it.

Yes. I am a frugal guy who gets a rush every time he finds something for free or saves a buck. I have earned the nickname Miser Michaelson and wear it with pride. That isn’t the only reason why I am happy to have so many items around me that weren’t bought in a store.

When first moving out on my own, like most college graduates, I didn’t have much cash. I moved out of the parents’ house and worked multiple jobs to pay the bills and save money. The few pieces of furniture in my possession were an old couch, desk and cabinet from my old home.

Months went by and I slowly began to receive more and more secondhand items to use in my daily life. This was especially handy when I dropped the roommate and got a single apartment all for myself. All of the stuff was moved in and I was alone, surrounded by other people’s furniture. 

It was a reminder that I didn’t get there on my own. Each step in life can be attributed to the people that cared enough about me to not only give me their possessions, but also their time and love. 

Getting a kitchen table from my neighbor was huge, since I usually just sat on the couch with plate in hand. My desk came from a great friend who has given me a space to get all of my work done. My grandma’s old recliner is always there on a stressful day and, at night, I am reminded of my family’s kindness in giving me their extra mattress to sleep on.

I have been given more than old furniture and all of my personal possessions mean so much more to me than money. Each one represents an act of kindness from someone who wanted to see me succeed from the very beginning. These feelings fill every stitch, panel, and screw with a story of compassion.

And one day, I know that any new furniture or whatever else I buy can eventually help a young man or woman looking to make it on their own. I can give them my memories, which they will turn into newer (and probably more exciting) ones.

Secondhand isn’t a bad thing by any definition of the word, especially when the person that hand belongs to cares.