Relics

One of the great unsolved mysteries of my life - not that my life is fraught with opportunities for unsolved mystery - is the whereabouts of all my boyhood memorabilia.

When I was a kid, I was active in the Boy Scouts. We can debate the Scouts as a relevant organization later but for me it worked out well. I had no athletic talent, no musical talent, and no Lothario talent. But I liked being outside and could (and still can) walk pretty much from here to John o'Groat's and back without breaking a sweat. Both useful characteristics for enjoying Boy Scouts. It was a good match and as a Scout, I collected all sorts of stuff: patches, rank badges, my Eagle certificate, and more.

But it all vanished. With the exception of a very few things, I had none of my childhood memorabilia to share with my kids. Nothing. All those souvenirs I collected as a child - in Scouts and elsewhere - were gone. What was worse, I had no recollection of having done anything intentionally with them. I'm not a sentimental guy but I would never knowingly throw away my Eagle certificate.

"How could you get rid of that stuff?" my parents always asked accusingly. "We saved it for you. If we knew you were going to dump it, we would have kept it." I had no good answer. I was hoping to find it cleaning out my mother's house after she died. It was not to be.

A few times, I asked my brother if he had it. "Nope," was his invariable reply. "All I have is my stuff. You know you're always throwing things away. You must have thrown it all away. You know that broke mother and dad's hearts."

Everyone was so sure that I had been given this stuff and I was irresponsible enough to toss it. I figured it all got lost during one of the many moves I made when I was young.

Tuesday night my brother called. "Guess what I found?" He recently moved and is still in the throes of unpacking. He's the exact opposite of me. A total packrat with more shit in his house than you can imagine.

"I don't know. Jimmy Hoffa?"

"All your Scouting stuff. I guess I had it after all. Ha, ha. Isn't that funny? It was in my storage closet in a gin box labeled "knickknacks." I was going to toss the box but then decided to check it out. Good thing I did, huh?"

And, sure enough, he had it. All that memory-laden stuff I had from when I was a kid. Things I'd earned and collected in Scouts, at summer camps, and in school. Stuck in a box wrapped in newspaper for the last 28 years has caused it all to reek of mold and mildew. But the mystery is now solved.

I have half a mind to convene a séance just so I can shout "I told you so" to my parents beyond the grave.

A sampling these relics appears after the jump.
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