While my grandparents were alive, I used to go up into the attic, which was found by following a full set of stairs, and poke around at all the stuff that laid under a thin layer of dust. I'd dress in hats with veils and feathers, and long white gloves that buttoned up the wrist. I'd try on leather boxing gloves and World War I fighting helmets, also made out of leather.
Houses today don't have attics. Today, the wonderful treasures of yesteryear are now labeled junk and we all know where junk belongs. In the city dump.
And as today turns into tomorrow, I wonder what will be labeled as junk next. I'll tell you my friend, in a few more years, I'll see you at the junk pile.