You can call me a packrat, a female, or whatever you wish, but for some reason in my younger years I kept everything – ticket stubs, letters, cards, notes … For years these items have been in boxes, packed away.

This morning I went through them to purge my memories, or at least those memories I did not remember existed. I toyed with the idea of publishing all the notes and letters I had received, but chose not to because they were truly boring – if they had been humorous, I certainly would not have passed up the chance to share. I also found a story written by my mother – I will reprint this. I felt that I should share – some may find it interesting, and it is a part of my family that my mother would have wanted others to read.

I also found some interesting items in my parent’s attic – keychains, a couple of gold chains (from my guido wannabe days), a car stereo amplifier (from my loud, thumping music days), a collection of hockey team pennants, a box full of inflatable toys (no not those inflatable toys – have some couth), hockey and baseball cards (who wouldn’t want Bill Buckner in a Kansas City Royals uniform – I refuse to throw those away after my dad’s baseball “retirement account” was thrown out when he was a child), my Cabbage Patch Kid (Rory Alex), and all my medals and trophies I won as kid.

Yes, I am a packrat, but it was exciting stuff – or at least I thought so at some point. Even now as trash, it was a fun day walking down memory lane.