Completely in the Dark

I’ve been carrying around a coffin.

From place to place, it’s hulked in bedroom corners—a musty, scuffed thing, festooned with cobwebs and containing the rotting corpse of my early life’s memorabilia.

It’s my foot locker.

There’s no serial number, no stenciled lettering, no nothing. Just a metal plate that reads: “Poirier & McLane Corporation, Falconer, NY 1947.”

There’s also no record in the early diaries (1972–1978) of how I acquired it. It could’ve been Dad’s old Army-issue, but that’s doubtful. I would’ve remembered that.

More likely, the Family Project bought it at a garage or estate sale.

You see, when Grandpa Adams visited us he and Dad used to hit auctions, estate sales and such. Grandpa was always scavenging around for used camera equipment; Dad likely saw the foot locker, then bought and gave it to me.

I’ve been sorting through its photos, letters and memorabilia lately—I knew that…