When I was six years old I had a special treasure chest. It was only an old black plastic lunchbox, the kind a man might take to a construction site. I had filled it with all sorts of precious trinkets: marbles and magnifying glasses, cereal box prizes and secret notes, bouncing balls and classic comics, and all manner of wonders a small boy might desire to make his young life complete.
Our family moved from the city to the suburbs that year and somehow in the confusion and clutter of the transition my beautiful treasure box was lost. While the years

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