I was recently at a holiday party that included an enjoyable grab bag/gift giving activity. There were tea cups, candles, candies, some gift certificates…and the greatest wine rack ever. Really. (Sometimes you just have to grab the big ugly box.)
But, most of all, there were baseball cards. Four packs of baseball cards from 1985 and 1986…
When I was a kid, baseball cards were an important part of my life. I, of course, collected them, but it was more than that. I read them. I studied them. I memorized them. I played with them. I invented games with them. I also sorted them – time and again by player, by team, by season, by card number, and in many other ways and then back again. (Might this be where I developed some tendencies to keep things in order?)
I had my baseball cards in boxes, wrapped with rubber bands, and later in plastic sheets. I loved my baseball cards.
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