My parents once owned a large box that was probably 30" in every direction. It was blue and white cardboard, and had 6 cardboard drawers that pulled out. The drawers were each storage for a different year's worth of school memorabilia - poems, art projects, reports, etc.
Yesterday, I got (I'll assume) the first of six large envelopes with the contents of one of those drawers. I got the fourth grade. I got a poem about leaves, a map of New Jersey, a program from the Ringling Brothers et. al. Circus, and a few two-page stories. I did not, however, get their drawer or any other way to logically store these items.
I feel a snarky letter coming on. I mean honestly. As I've said before, I left contemporary clothes behind and haven't seen those yet. I have received some slides, but not nearly all of them. It's one thing to go though my father's 9,000 boxes of crap and pull out every piece of me. It's another thing completely to pick and choose which pieces of me can be sanitized and re-used for future generations.
1 comment:
WHY is this being drawn out into long processed torture? Are you her new hobby? Has the ghost stopped amusing her so she's turned to you as her new past time? I just don't understand.
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