The Fate of the ... oh, forget it.

LittleBrother, the most sentimental of us all, felt badly that it was time to say goodbye to the house where he spent his college summers. He kept walking around saying, "I have a lot of good memories here," in a way that was kind of lecherous. When we moved to this house, LittleBro was just finishing up his sophmore year of high school. He did not want to leave the house we grew up in and, for a while, threatened to stay on with the new family. To make the move go smoother, my father was not above bribing LittleBrother with a pool table and a ping pong table. Seven years later, the pool and ping ping table will not be making the move. My Pop sold them to the guy buying the house. LittleBrother is heartbroken all over again. If only he had a truck big enough, he would move the game tables to his apartment in Stamford to replace some other less essential furniture, like his kitchen table. And his bed.