It was August. Very hot and very humid. An Iowa City summer day. We were cooped up in our cool house and needed to get out. My kids wanted to go to Artifacts, a store worthy of its name. So we piled into the car, and cranked up the air conditioning. When we got there the kids rushed straight to the new vintage clothing department in the back. I lingered in the front, browsing through shelves cluttered with what could have been the artifacts of my childhood- toys, jewelry, fabric and dishes from the sixties.