These are some Russian dancer paper dolls I snipped at least a decade ago and mailed to my mom:
Maybe I could remember how to make them again even without the "hard copy", but maybe not. Chances are good the need to recreate them will never, ever occur. When I'm standing at the gate of heaven wearing a fitted sheet, St. Peter probably won't want me to demonstrate my Cossack-cutout ability.
For years I considered myself a shoe-in to heaven based on my PSAT and SAT scores, plus my college GPA. Although I don't actually believe in heaven, I've recently realized St. Peter is no more interested in my scholastic prowess than in my papercutting. Maybe I will be evaluated on my ability to let go of material possessions without overloading the town dump. Maybe I'll get a thoughtfulness bonus for not burdening my sons with a ton of stuff the Historical Society really won't want.
Either way, I can't take It with me. When I'm dead, I won't care about all the darn photo albums. I won't care about the paper Russians. It won't much matter if the photos were saved on some outdated media format.
Check out Brian Doyle's novel, Mink River, from your library. You will love it.
© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder