Just before St. Patrick’s Day, I purchased a new home, an exciting event for many. For me, it took a while for the excitement to set in. My first thought was “Oh, yeah, now I have to move all of this stuff.” With 45 days left before the closing, it was time to bring order to this bevy of breweriana.

Over the past few years I had outgrown the three-bedroom bi-level I purchased back in college. As I would return home from collecting shows and flea markets, I had no choice but to box and stow the newest treasures. This actually worked to my benefit, because for the first few weekends of the move, the cars, trucks, and U-Haul trailers were easy to load for the trip to the new abode.

It was sometime around the fourth weekend that the move became more of a challenge. In a sick sort of a way, I could not walk past an empty box in public without attempting to acquire it. Bubble wrap, packing peanuts and old newspapers suddenly became golden.

Mark Twain once said that you never really meet a person until you travel with them. I am here to tell you that you never really meet a person until they help you move.