"Mom, what is that?" asked my son. "The Bride of Chucky?"
The old doll I was holding was pretty scary. Her glass eyes were especially horrible, closing when she stood upright and flying open when she lay flat. Once she had been loved, but she had been stored in an attic (阁楼) for decades, where the extremes of heat and cold can be hard on a girl's looks. Throw her in the waste bin? Maybe. But first, let's check eBay.
I clicked, supplied the required information about condition, including defects (i.e., "Only a miracle could save this doll"), and uploaded its photos. I sold it for $5.
The buyer was happy: "As described!" he wrote on my feedback page. "Super seller!" The doll found a home and, I hope, a new life. Maybe she was used to repair other dolls. Perhaps those strange eyes got fixed and once again can inspire a child's love. It's a win-win, if you ask me.
I also sold lots of other stuff. None of them brought in a lot of money, though I have been surprised at the occasional bidding war, like, for example, the one over an old swimsuit that would have made Brigitte Bardot look bad. And some customers, let's face it, are strange. Recently I had a hard time convincing an Australian would-be buyer of an Irish souvenir bell that I don't shop internationally; it's just too much trouble. He could have flown to Ireland and bought his own bell for the price he was willing to pay. Another time, a buyer complained that the electric wire on an old radio was dirty. Really? Dirty? The wire was black. But I aim to please, so I offered a refund.
So why bother with the dealing and small profits? Because I don't like abandoning the past. All these treasures once had stories. They meant something. But the people who gave them that meaning are gone, and I simply cannot rescue everything. I can't even sew. So I find it satisfying that a new owner, discovered via eBay, will continue the story in his or her own way.
