Richard had been 11 years old when The A-Team premiered, and it had hit him like a ton of bricks. He had talked his mother's ear off about the show, explaining in great detail exactly why Face was the best and coolest person ever, and how Mr. T's radical chains weren't 'garish', and why couldn't they have a van like that? Every Wednesday over dinner he had recounted that week's episode, complete with sound effects and impressions, in an attempt to cheer his mother up. It had never been completely effective, but as far as he knew she had never watched a full episode. "I'd rather hear about them from you," she had said with a smile, tousling his hair. They had meant a lot to him and, he thought, to her. The cookie jar had come from the store she had worked at, an authentic bit of nostalgia and kitsch that she had given him on the birthday right before he left for college. Since then, Mr. T had been pitying fools from his vantage point in every kitchen Richard had ever owned.
Watching Adam find it a place of honor, Richard grinned. "Nothing just like that," he admitted. "Most of the really weird stuff is already unpacked and in the record cabinet over by the media center. Posters are over in that stack of frames by the front door. You could hang those, if you wanted. This stuff is mostly just boring kitchen wares." He picked up the loaf pan and the coffee pot and carried them over to their respective places in a cabinet and inside the coffee maker.