My coming home to Rochester, NY was not like the Yankees returning home after the championship. There was not a ticker tape parade or screaming fans. But what there was were wonderful friends and my Mum and Father. And in my Mum's hand was a set of old keys. And in the way back of my Father's car an old trunk. Not unlike the show American Pickers, my parents have spent much of their time on earth collecting pieces of American history. Objects and items that have been loved by people from the past. This trunk was no different. My Mum had come across it at an antique store that was closing. The sign on it said ten dollars, and the trunk was locked, with no evidence of the matching key. As she returned home to "Rainbow Farm" (our family name for their 6 acres of land that often sports a rainbow over its hills), she was determined to find out what treasures lie within. Unearthing a ring of keys from my Father's stash of collectibles, unclaimed skeleton keys and such on a key ring stamped with the words New York, she marched with purpose towards the trunk. Lo and behold, one of them fit that trunk and the magical treasures were revealed. Spectacles and letters sent home from far away travels and postcards that were over 100 years old. I hope that in this explosive electronic age, we never forget to hold respect and honour possessions of the past, and learn from them and pass them onward into the hands of others who will love and care for them. We are afterall, each museums, carrying information of the past and looking forward to the future. The trunk has become a museum for my daughter, for her future. A collection of treasures and letters and cards and shells and stones and pebbles and marbles and...