Gotta love a small town....

So the other day as Hubby and I retrieved and set up the patio furniture, Hubby (for no good reason at all) decided to check out the attic in the Weird Little House that exists behind our house. Remember how I said there were places around here that you could hold a gun to my head and I wouldn't go in? Yup, this is one of them. Spidery attics are not my thing thankyouverymuch.

A few minutes later, here he comes. Holding two stuffed bears that I had never seen before, a trophy, and a small manila folder.

"Hey, I found this stuff..." Says he. "Looks like this Angela was a big Rick Springfield fan..."

"What stuff?" I asked. "And how much are we talking about?"

Three largeish cartons. Photo albums, school awards, bears, letters... Just a whole lotta memorabilia circa 1985 - 1989. Not ours, obviously. But things that were precious to someone at one time. And left behind.

"So what do you want to do with it?" Hubby asked me.

As if there were any question. "What do I want to do with it?? Well, return it of course! I've got a phone book, lets see if we can get lucky!"

"I'd like to get lucky," he replied.

(::sigh:: Boys -- one track mind....)

As the fates would have it, the second person I called happened to be Angela's uncle. Surprised to hear from a perfect stranger, I am sure. But sensing that I was neither serial killer nor bill collector, he hooked me up with Angela's sister's phone number. She still lives in the area and would know just what to do, he said. God, I love small towns.

So now, everything's squared away and three cartons of forgotten treasure will soon find their way to South Carolina and back into the right hands. After all, I have plenty of my *own* Rick Springfield memorabilia around here somewhere. And you never know when your 8th grade graduation diploma might come in handy...