My mother has finally sold her house in Albertville and is moving to a smaller home on Alabama Ave. It's been a long process and moving all the stuff that has accumulated over the years is quite a task. It's not just moving furniture, its a question of what to do with the "relics" of the years.
My older brother and I finally set in to the task of cleaning out the attic. It was full of "stuff" that really had no value other than the memories attached to each insignificant item. For instance: notebooks from school, old record albums, sun-britches, my viking helmet, old stereos, tax forms, canning jars, stuffed animals, and various things that had baked at 180 degrees for 20+ years in a hot attic.
I'm sure we all have stuff we keep for sentimental reasons. I sorted through the things as best I could and kept a few souveniers. My boys and the rest of our family had gone through the stuff and got what they wanted and all that was left looked like a pile of trash. What do you do with trash? Burn It!
"Anything will burn if the fire is hot enough" my brother said. He was right. In a theraputic spell of violence, Mother's attic was transformed into a big empty room.
I stood and watched the fire burn with mixed emotions. I caught a final glimpse of my "A-team" notebook and sighed deeply. Here's what I learned, "You'll never remember some memories unless you have something to remind you of it." I didn't want to remember 10th grade anyway. 
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