One of the big chores around the house every year is the switching of fall and winter clothes to ones we wear in the spring and summer. I trust this rite of spring happens in most households.

Our tedious process includes the hauling of many large plastic bins from the cellar to the upstairs. The lighter clothes come out, the heavier ones go in, and the bins are returned to the cellar and stacked for another six months.

It can be a humorous exchange because I try to live by a “no-wear” rule. If I haven’t worn a particular piece of clothing — winter or summer — in the six months it has been out of the bin, it’s usually headed for the local Goodwill store or some other worthy organization.

While spending one recent Sunday afternoon making “the switch,” as my wife and daughter like to call it, a news blurb on the TV of course dealt with the Democratic presidential race, but more specifically, trade agreements such as NAFTA and CAFTA.

As if on cue, as I was putting away a sweater, a sweater-vest and a turtleneck for the summer, I noticed that the tag on the sweater read “Made in Hong Kong.” My curiosity aroused because of the chatter about foreign trade and “buying U.S.,” I looked at the other two. The mock turtle was made in China and the vest in El Salvador. All three were bought from a long-standing, popular American company.

I wondered to myself: “If I looked through most of my clothes, how many pieces could I find, if any, that were made in America?” My browsing didn’t take long, but showed that we may have been one of the leading garment manufacturers at one time, but not anymore.

I have lots of caps — Cleveland Indians, Cleveland Browns, Penn State, USGA, and others from bars and restaurants that I have visited. I wear them year-round. All of the caps were produced in China, Bangladesh or Taiwan.

As I returned them to the closet, I tried my dress shirts. All 12 of them were produced in countries such as Korea, Vietnam, Bangladesh, The Philippines and Indonesia. My slacks, some of them the same except for the color, came from China, Bangladesh, the Dominican Republic and Vietnam.

I looked through my golf shirts, and found that China, Thailand, Guatemala, Hong Kong and Sri Lanka were the popular makers. I have more T-shirts than caps, and rummaging through the bins was enlightening. Macau, Malaysia, Pakistan, Haiti, Honduras, Indonesia, Canada, Mexico, Cambodia, Madagascar, the Dominican Republic and India were countries on the labels.

My tennis shoes were made in China, my loafers from leather in Brazil, my dress belts from China, and a golf vest from Hong Kong. My most comfortable but very old sweater that I refuse to throw away — burgundy with an image of the American flag interwoven on the front — was produced in China. My Levi’s were made in Lesotho. With clothes spread everywhere across the bed, I decided to check the pillow shams while I was at it — Pakistan.

You probably get the picture. It’s rather clear that America really is a huge part of a sprawling global economy, and that we don’t produce most of the fabrics anymore. It’s tough to find a “Made in the U.S.A.” label these days.

I managed to strike gold only a few times. The two Hawaiian summer shirts that I bought five years ago in a surf shop near Waikiki Beach were actually made in Hawaii. A golf belt by Foot-Joy was made in America.

One of my old favorite sport coats that I can’t toss (like the soft burgundy sweater) is an American-made tweed with suede patches on the elbows that I bought at the former Kirsch & Griffith’s men’s clothing store in downtown Sharon a real long time ago. Another of my golf shirts gets a half of a credit. The label said that it was assembled in Honduras, but made with “U.S. components.”

A few years ago, we were shopping for living-room furniture, and we were trying to pick out a cover fabric. Most of the choices were foreign-made, and we were told that it would be weeks before the couch and love seat would be finished.

Thinking we could get them faster if we could find an American-made fabric, our salesperson said in sheepish confidence that I respected: “You should buy a foreign-made fabric. Believe it or not, it doesn’t take as long. I don’t know how you feel about this sort of thing, but they can do it better and cheaper than we can.”