Most of the house is unpacked, except for my office or as Michele puts it, "my dorm room." I was continuing the unending chore of unpacking, organizing, and purging unwanted materials . If there is one habit I picked up from my parents, it's the ability to hold on to everything. Case in point:
These are tickets for the Holy Cross Church picnic. I have not attended this picnic in at least 15 years, give or take a few years. Holy Cross is located in Fairfield, and I haven't lived anywhere near that church in at least 15 years. As I was admiring this golden nugget to the past I recalled many times helping my dad setup for the picnic, run the children games, or scooping out Micalizzi Italian Ice (the only real kind out there.) The church picnic was a regular staple of the summer when living in Fairfield and Stratford. Of course, what has astonished me more now is how I managed to keep these tickets. I have moved so many times. These tickets must have stayed at the bottom of some moving box and survived by staying out of the way all these years. I don't suppose I can get my 50 cents back now?