My life with pack rats

In recent days, Wendell and I have been helping father clean out the weight room, which has doubled as a large closet and junk repository. The room's large closet was packed to the ceiling with boxes, and we have been sniffing through them to try to downsize our collection. Many of the boxes we found have not been touched since the day we moved into our compound in early 2003, which should be an indication that these items are not vital to the continuing operation of the household. But we did not want to simply throw them out without first going through them. Among our finds the last two days:

• A large stack of 8-year-old copies of the Detroit Free Press.
• Not one but two Snoopy Sno-Cone Machines. For those who aren't aware of this magical device, the Snoopy model is the standard for hand-cranked ice crushing.
• A troll doll.
• A grotesquely curled-up refrigerator magnet of Michelangelo's David.
• An ancient device called a "dot-matrix" printer.
• A litter box from an ill-conceived experiment conducted when I was a puppy in a small apartment.
• A baby gate, from another puppy experiment.
• A baseball bat autographed by Hall of Famer Al Kaline.
• A small kit labeled "The Art of Belly Dancing."
• A framed Presidential Academic Fitness Award signed by the first President Bush.
• A piece of the Berlin Wall.
• Most exciting of all, a package of vintage rawhide chew sticks, circa 2002.