At 7:12 on a Saturday morning in Pasadena, the old garage door finally groaned upward. Dust drifted into the sunlight. Behind it waited a broken bookcase, a rusted lawn mower, cracked patio chairs, and a maze of cardboard boxes that had not been opened since the family moved in. Then a gust of wind caught a stack of papers and sent them skittering down the driveway toward the street.
