I was leafing through an old 1920s book about travel in Germany in the local 2nd hand bookstore, about 2 years ago, when a train ticket stub fell out, dated 1936.
The book had recently donated, probably after great-grandfather died. The ticket was for a train trip to Munich on a German line, and had Olympic rings on it in celebration of that year’s olympic games.
That would be the infamous 1936 “Nazi Olympics” in Berlin.
I showed it to the bookstore owner and he grinned and tucked it back inside the book. “I like to leave stuff like that for the buyer to discover,” he said.