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I come from a very long line of packrats. When my maternal Grandmother moved up to Vermont from Texas, she brought everything that was in her old house and put it in the new one. After she passed away and we were cleaning out her house, we found boxes and boxes and boxes of ... stuff. Some of it was stuff that she'd brought and never unpacked. Some of it was stuff she'd had in the house in Texas, because she had cleaned out other relative's houses and brought the stuff home and just never dealt with it. So instead of going through it all before she moved, she just shipped it all up North. And, of course, my Mom, being her mother's daughter, refused to part with any of it.

But recently, Mom's been on this slightly morbid kick. She doesn't want me to have to deal with a house (and two storage spaces) full of crap when she dies, so she's slowly but surely going through all of it now. This wigs me out to no end, because I've already lost Dad, and I refuse to dwell very long on the fact that someday I'll lose Mom, too. So I focus instead on the little treasures she keeps uncovering.

Adventures in Genealogy )

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