The best source on our cultural identity is not the official, historical record – ask any anthropologist, it’s the town dump.
Ephemera – those things that were just barely saved, and in some cases not saved at all – emanate with secrets we can only glimpse and mysteries we will never completely answer. The stories may be unfamiliar, but the themes are universal. This is a looking glass, a window into our own fragile, material existence that begs the question, “How will I be remembered?”