The photographs weren't so bad because I simply stuffed them in boxes. You know, out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully I can find leisure moments to catalog them somehow, eventually. Well, finding leisure moments isn't as much a problem as using them properly, I suppose.
Before we moved here, I went through my books and selected the ones I figured I'd read, or use, again; and I brought them here. They were some of the first items I moved.
That left one box of children's book and one box of adult books to get rid of.
I made the mistake of looking through them again, and found some more to keep. Me and my stupid memories. No, I guess it isn't the memories that are stupid: It's my trying to hang on to the tangible evidence that's crazy. Because once I'm gone, the books will be gone too.
I recall reading the "Little Red Riding Hood" and "The Three Little Pig" books to every single one of my grandchildren, starting with Arick. When I was reading the big, bad Wolf's lines of course, I'd speak with a growl, just the way my parents read it to me years ago.My two youngest granddaughters, Monica and Natalie, loved the "Spot" books, and both of them had every one memorized by the time they were two years old.
Each page had a flap you could lift, with more words underneath. Cliff and I would read the main part of the page, then a granddaughter would lift the flap and "read" what was underneath. 
Now now can I toss something like that in the trash?On the plus side, I still have lots of books that will go to the trash. I put them on Craigslist under "free", but I really doubt anyone is going to come way out here in the boonies after a bunch of books.
The junk room is starting to look much emptier. The main things left are Christmas ornaments, which will go in the attic of our garage, and dozens (perhaps hundreds) of canning jars. I intend to give away at least half of them on Freecycle or Craigslist, but I'll keep some. One never knows when hard times might hit and we'll be forced to garden; then I'll be glad to have them.
