My favorite inheritance is the green toy metal shovel. Also, the elfin-like ski-toed leather booties. Also, the pair of snowshoes, the boxfuls of paranoid diaries, and the hand-carved checkerboard. At some point my mom framed four packets of eighty-year-old seeds. There was more. More by the tonnage. But junk, mostly, save for the few things one could pull off as vintage decor or convince someone at a swap meet of great impending value. I moved around and couldn’t commit to...
