I had a box of things packed from my last year of high school and my first year of college that made its way to my house from my parent’s never ending stash of stuff. I went through it this evening, and out of the (probably) three cubic feet of crap, I kept four things. One is a greeting card I’d like to show my writer friends. One is an autograph book I want to take a close look through. One is a high school graduation photo presented to me by a local bank. And the final item is a folding fan given to me by, I think, by my grandfather. It’s not a lot of stuff, but most of the stuff I had in the box carried bad memories. So when you think of it, really, it’s a win.