In August 2010, some may remember that we were in Iowa for my mother Thelma’s funeral. At the conclusion of that visit, running out of time, my two siblings and I ended up with a number of very large cartons of photographs and other possessions that we divided up and shipped to our respective residences for further sorting and consideration. The Dreaded Boxes. We mutually promised to reunite annually in rotation to go over these things. None of us, apparently, has found the time to address this matter, or even get together, until recently when my brother starting inspecting the material in his assigned boxes. He sends a few examples along, none of which I had ever seen before.
