Many months ago, Morgan, his brother, and I went to a demolition sale in the far northern Chicago suburbs. This particular demolition sale turned out to be quite special. Unlike most demolition sales, which merely sell doors and windows, and other boring things like doors and windows, this one was selling the whole kit and kaboodle. Everything in the house. And it was filled with 50 years of family life. Lots of paper. Lots of junk. It hadn't been lived in for nearly 3 years, so there was an insane amount of mold and water. There was no electricity, so we had to make a stop at Walgreens on the way over to pick up not only snacks, but also illumination. We got there and were excited with the possibility. It cost one dollar each time you entered and you could take anything out that you wanted. The house was going to be destroyed shortly, and you could tell that it had been ransacked. Crap everywhere. We did, however, get a few good things. I was excited to get some glass baby bottles from the 1940s, Morgan got some gold colored mid century wall lamps, I got a fire orange boomerang ashtray, and some other assorted cruft.

The coolest thing that I found, by far, was three turquoise metal boxes of 8mm film. You know, the kind that you could play in one of those old school projectors. The canisters were nearly snatched up right in front of my eyes. But I got 'em.

So for two months, I had been jonsing to see what was on those things. You see, I was just completely bewildered with the idea that this house was totally abandoned. Tons of family pictures, slides, and these home movies were just left for garbage. How could this have happened? Why were there kids and family and no one was there to collect and love all of those memories? Of course, in my mind, the 8mm could hold these answers. They could have revealed a sordid tale of murder, infidelity, or natural disaster. My mind raced with the possibility of intrigue. So I kept my eyes open for a projector. And boy did I find a doosey. An absolutely flawless Bell and Howell projector.

Anyways, I set up the projector in my basement. It was a lot of fun figuring out how those old projectors work. I spent hours going through the reels of 8mm film. I watched nearly every family movie. That's literally HOURS and HOURS of family vacations, holidays, easters, birthdays, and graduations.

What did I find? Not exactly what I was looking for. You see, I was looking for a tale of tragic and woe, some sort of disaster. What I actually saw was a completely well adjusted suburban Chicago family. They loved nature, as they went on probably 20 different vacations out west to national parks. They were both (the husband and the wife) geologists, although neither of them worked for a University. I got to see Paris in 1959, Disney Land in 1960, The Grand Canyon. I watched them ski and fish, I watched them grow up. I watched them get old.

It made me realize that there is a Wertz family, out there, somewhere, who wants to know about these things. David, Julie, Sydney Wertz. Where are you?