On the one hand, it's just a trading card, a rectangle of cardboard ensconced in a casing of hard plastic. On one side are the words "Passing the Torch" with a man in a football uniform numbered 24 and a squiggle called an autograph. The Nelkins live in the world of sports memorabilia, and they - Todd especially, who grew up in the Meyerland family business - know what they are dealing with. [...] there was the issue of finding each other. Rockets' season-ticket holders, they became engaged at a game against the Bucks, and they were married at another, against the Pacers. Todd, to the consternation of his business neighbors, feeds flocks of pigeons and loves the whoosh of their wings around him. The first ended in an ectopic pregnancy and emergency surgery for Ula. Bumper cars, roller coasters, theme parks, we'd like to share them with a kid or kids. Once, he got detained by the Secret Service for asking President Gerald Ford for his autograph, but that was about the worst thing he ever did as a kid. For the record, they will look into adoption or surrogacy or whatever to become parents if in vitro doesn't end in a baby. "The kid just won't have that new-car smell," Todd says. "If that card can lead to someone who talks too much on the phone, spends too much money, is embarrassed of his parents, if I have to say 'Sorry, officer, it won't happen again,' that will be great," Todd says.
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