New Year's Day was a travel day for me. Although the flight home from St. Louis to St. Paul is less than 2 hours, all the associated ritual – packing, saying goodbye to relatives, driving to the airport, turning in the rental car, arriving at the airport 2 hours early to accommodate security procedures (2 hours was a lot more than necessary, in my estimation), then the cab ride home, stowing away all the loot – left me wanting to do nothing more than veg out, pet the cats, open mail, and catch up on the newspapers.

The trip to St. Louis was unforgettable, however. My childhood home has been sold, and my mother is in a nursing home, so we slept in the house for the last time, and sorted through mom's papers looking for a few essential records (like her car title!) and mementos. Mom kept everything. Christmas cards, receipts for every repair and every major purchase, bank statements going back many years, post cards, birthday cards, calendars, and more recently, after her memory began to fail, countless (and redundant) notes to herself about doctor's appointments, medications, birthdays, and so on.

There were a few pleasant surprises. My mom had several letters written to her by her father, who died when I was about 8 years old. I had never seen anything written by him before, and I barely remember him. I saved those to read later. I found a family bible that contains records of a branch of the family I knew nothing about. And I acquired several ancient photos, like the one of the log cabin my great-grandparents lived in.