I vowed to spend the entire summer unpacking boxes from my mother and brother's houses. Well, is it still technically summer?
I managed to get three boxes unpacked over this labor day weekend. Three! That's pretty darn good for me. And it feels just like Christmas in here. All over here. Everywhere.
I didn't know what was in any particular box so it was nearly a complete surprise every time I opened a box. Yes, there were markings on the sides of some of the boxes but the descriptions would only tell me about one or two things in particular. The rest of the contents in the boxes didn't match... but sure did interest me. I must've looked like a child at Christmas as I'd peer over the edge and into each box and then pull out the treasures.
Wanna know what grade I got in my Spanish class in High School? Well, it was there. So was about a dozen Norman Rockwell plates. And so were lots of trinkets from my parent's trips all over the world. Anyone need an elephant made of jade?
All fine items. All items I have no idea what to do with.
But the piece de resistance - or however you spell that - was one single, solitary photograph album. Black, old and full of photographs from the early 1940s. My father was in the army, on the front lines... and this photo album chronicled his experiences in Germany. I was amazed. More importantly, my military-minded daughter will be excited to see all of this, too.
And inside, there was a photograph of Hitler. Doing the heil sign and standing in a car as it rode down a parade route. With two of his comrades. The handwriting on the back was my dad's. It said, "If there is a hell, these three are surely in it."
Such a piece of history. I won't be selling this on ebay.
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