The day I signed up for a YMCA membership for the first time in my life, my baby cup appeared on the floor of our garage in one of the only clear spots on the floor. It had been in a box in the rafters for at least 5 years. My father worked for the YMCA for years, and he had chosen the spelling of my name, which was on the cup. Dad had been gone for years. That cup must have fallen at least 10 feet. There was not a dent in it as it lay on the concrete floor.