My fascination with scrounging for buried treasure was not always as e're present as it is now. As a child, there was a cement retaining wall encircling 3/4 of my yard, and where it met the sidewalk at the right of the property, there was a gold 'x.' Part of me, as a child, believed in "x marks the spot" and wondered if there might be buried treasure under the cement. But as time passed and I grew older, I forgot about the 'x' and years later I realized it, as with time, had faded into a memory. In middle school, however, I had my first experience with "buried treasure..." well, sort of. There were random dips in the grass in my backyard, and one evening I took a shovel and tapped the ground. The shovel met resistance and a now familiar thunk was heard. I had no idea what I'd hit, but I sure as hell investigated. One week later, I had unearthed slate stepping stones that led from the old back stairs to the old back gate. I can still recall my mother saying "there used to be stepping stones back there." She never paid enough attention to them for it to occur to her that they had been buried under years of mulched grass. It is the things we see every day for years, such as the 'x' on the wall, that we take for granted until years pass and we suddenly realize they're gone. I did, however, in the process find an old Hot Wheels car that no one knows how it came to rest in the middle of my backyard. It certainly wasn't one of mine.
Again, though, my desire to find buried treasured waned. But it returned years later, and completely by accident...
One day, for one reason or another, I grabbed a flashlight and entered the crawlspace under Ms. Gott's house. As I clicked on the flashlight, bent over, and began to enter the crawlspace, the flashlight reflected off of something under the front of the house. I walked, back bent, another 10 feet or so and then began to crawl. Soon enough, I was on my belly, inching toward the object. As I maneuvered through old foundation supports I began to see the object: a glass bottle.
Nestled against a random pile of dirt, and the corner of the front porch as an old blue bottle. It was dirty, but between the flashlight and slivers of light coming through the foundation vent that I would later knock out in a fit of claustrophobia, I could clearly see the beautiful blue, and barely make out words on the label. With the flashlight in one hand, and the bottle in another, I inched my way back to the crawlspace door. Covered in dirt from my shoulders down, I climbed the stairs into the house to present my find. That night, after letting the bottle soak, we learned it was a "Rumsford Chemical Works" bottle and, through the helpful resource of the internet, I found out that it was made and used around the turn of the century.
Some people would have been thrilled with the find, and they probably would have stopped there. But not me. It was summer, I was bored, and so day after day I inched my way to the front of the crawlspace. Between the rafters, I could sit hunched over, but couldn't move much at all without whacking my head. While, overall, my efforts were relatively futile, I did find a few interesting things: a blue glass insulator and a ceramic disk that may have been an insulator. In any event, it was something to do with electricity. I can't remember where I found the former, and the latter is long gone. Probably reburied under sifting dirt. I do, however, remember exactly where and how I found it: under the front porch after removing a broken piece of cinderblock.
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| Glass insulator Frisbee unrelated |
The crawlspace was not the only treasure trove I would come to find in that house that summer. It seems that anytime something needed to go into the attic, it was automatically my task. The house has two attics, separated by the center of the house. One is accessed via a door on the landing, and the other through a tiny door in the bedroom that I have, at least once, liked to the door to Wonderland. For whatever reason, if any, I decided to remove a loose plank in the landing attic and took a splinter of wood and sifted through the insulation. Through that, I unearthed some of the most random things: a deterioring book cover, an old Ligget Cigarette pack, an old condom box, a burlap sack, and random pieces of newspaper. While I was perplexed by the burlap sack and amused by the condoms and empty cigarette pack, I was fascinated with the book cover. For on the inside cover was written a name: T. R. Perkinson...a name that would be pivotal in my search, and already mentioned in this blog.
The attic from the upstairs bedroom was much less intriguing. It's narrower, and with less of a planked area to store stuff. It was in this attic, however, that I found some shards of china. Once retrieved, and glued together by my friend, Cat, it was revealed to be a doll teacup.
On cool days, I yearn to go back into the attic, remove the board, and sift once again. Unfortunately, the presence of Ms. Gott's kitten and my two kittens makes that task difficult as I'd have to shut myself in. One day soon, however, when I have a free Saturday, I do intended to search for that book cover again. Maybe even don a pair of gloves and sift by hand. Who knows what other treasures may lurk in the fluff yellow stuff between the ceiling plaster of the den, and the planks that floor the attic.
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