In our home office sits a Cowboys garbage can. You would think this was Wife's garbage can, as she is the big Cowboys fan, but it's actually mine, which I won in 1980 at Pals. And 28 years later, I still own it.
First, Pals was like a Baptist, lite version of Cub Scouts, without the actual camping trips (at least in our Pals). Every Friday night for a few years I went to Pals, not realizing I was Catholic and it was a kids group for a different religion. The adults who ran the group must have known there were Catholic kids coming, I doubt they were trying to convert us. We still got the Jesus message proselytized, but it was more of a Jesus message than an evangelical message. It was fun, but once I figured out the Protestant/Catholic difference, I was a little embarrassed and didn't go to Pioneers (the next step up) the next year.
Anyway, I won the Cowboys garbage can at Pals, and used it as a garbage can for my room. Then I took it to college with me. Then I took it into my first apartment, then when I moved in with Wife, then to Utah, and finally into my new house. It's never been a primary garbage can, but it works for the office. And since it's a Cowboys garbage can, I doubt Wife is going to suggest ever getting rid of it. It's a little rusty on the inside and scuffed on the outside, but it's still functional. And nostalgic.
The minor nostalgia took a little turn today when I looked over at it and noticed, right near the bottom of the outside of the can, a small, torn-in-half yellow Pac-Man sticker. I probably haven't noticed that sticker in 25 years. Yet there it is, another little glimpse of my kid-hood, a time when I owned Pac-Man stickers and put them everyplace. And this 26-year-old sticker somehow survived on a 28-year-old garbage can. Not weird, just neat.