From Kansas. To Wisconsin. To Illinois. To Missouri. I’ve lifted, loaded, hauled and stored a stack of storage crates for the last ten years. One time, in the middle of one of the many moves, Cristi asked me what was inside. I replied with a shrug of my shoulders. I really had no idea.
Fast forward to 2012. A whole series of issues, including the accusation that I might be a hoarder, inspired me to go through each one of the bins and consider sacrificing some of my beloved, unidentified crap. In addition to a lot of strange memorabilia and random text books, I discovered I’d been hauling around a lot of my old toys. A collection that included a number of metal cars and trucks.
I went through everything, item by item. Once I got beyond the slight (and silly) sentimental desire to hold on to them for another ten years, I decided toys are for kids and that they should be played with. If Pixar has taught me anything, it’s that these objects have a soul—and being locked away in Rubbermaid Roughneck was most definitely killing it.
Over the course of the last few months, the cars and trucks have found new homes with my nephews. To keep the kids entertained at grandma and grandpas, one entire crate now lives at my parents’ house. I’m pretty sure this is the way it was meant to be. No, actually, I’m 100% certain this is exactly how it was supposed to happen.
Nephew James with a couple of his favorites from the crates.