All my life, as long as I can recall, Mama saved things. Not because she was sentimental but because she had grown up Scotch-Irish poor, so any little bit of something might be valuable down the road.If she could only find where she put it.When Mama died, she left behind six or seven irons, all broken and piled together in the corner of a bedroom closet. I suppose she believed that one or more could resurrect itself and work again one day.