Last weekend, I ventured down into the basement of my childhood home to make some headway in cleaning out my dad’s house. My parents moved in almost 60 years ago, so you can imagine how much has accumulated. Certainly, I and my sisters added plenty to the stash of memories. I got to work on a section of the laundry room and the old bar in the corner, figuring it was manageable to tackle on my own. While in the laundry room, I found my 6th-grade softball bat tucked behind the door.
From the editor: We go together