A Few Good Men

Last weekend, I moved my freshman daughter out of her dorm. It’s quite an endeavor—and a mother lode of landfill waste— but this being my third freshman move-out, I knew how to salvage and recycle the disheveled remains of unwanted supplies and decor. I also knew to soak in the moment on her behalf, because she’ll eventually miss the rubbery stairwell scent, the click-slam of the residence hall’s entry door, and her own window overlooking the freshman quad. In two decades, she’ll treasure the do...