I write this in self defense. There comes a time in life that one must realize that one mans junk is another mans junk, it's the 1st guy that's got a problem, that would be me. I wandered to the basement last night preparing to do a little Spring cleaning. Box upon box resides there from the attic cleaning a few years ago. I gently placed a chair prepared to go through each one individually because last time I found $300 in old savings bonds that my mother gave me over the years. I placed a vinyl by Poco on the turn table to set the mood and had a Jon Luc Ponty as back up. As I perused the first box filled with little momento's like buttons, banners, t-shirts and a couple of bowling trophies (sportsmanship), I inspected each one and as I did so would drift to a far off time and vividly remember how it came to be. I wasn't home last night, I had unboxed a virtual time machine and traveled through a small portion of my life. After 2 hours and only halfway through box # 1 I called it a night. I've got an idea spring cleaning may run long into summer.
Content Goes Here