unusual finds

Living on base in Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, in the late 70's was a great place to be a child. It was safe and full of hiding places. I could explore the neighborhood for hours with my friends, setting up new hide-outs in Juniper bushes and looking for toads trapped in window wells. One day I was walking with a friend along a rock wall that bordered the military cemetery just a couple blocks behind my house. Part of it was crumbling and so we jumped down and started picking through the rubble. I found a small, metal object. I had no idea what it was but I liked the feel of it so I put it in my pocket and we went on our way.

Later that evening as I was emptying my pockets of the day's finds, I put the thing on the kitchen counter. My Dad walked by and gasped, "Where did you find that?!" I told him and he continued to examine it. I didn't know if I was in trouble or what. He told me it looked like a bullet. A very old bullet. Cool. He put it in a cup of water to soak it and loosen the dirt from who knows how long ago. A few days later, being the meticulous person that he is, he went to the library and scoured military weapons books until he found it. An exact match. It was molded in 1874 at the historic Philadelphia Frankford Arsenal. He even researched the location where it was found and noted that it was about 2oo feet from the grave of the brother of Colonel George Custer. He included that "interesting but irrelevant" factoid on the back of the display case he had personally picked out and stained for my prized find.

Many years later, I was at my Dad's deer lease in south Texas, searching the caliche terrain for arrowheads. We'd found fragments before and there was plenty of flint scattered around, but we'd yet to find a perfect artifact. It was July and at least 100 degrees. It felt even hotter from the sun reflecting off of the white, clay-like earth. I wandered for hours, head down, eyes squinting. My skin was burned and dusty and I was getting dehydrated. I decided to call it a day. As I was heading back to the truck, I glanced down and my heart jumped. Out of the corner of my eye I had seen a small, perfect shape under some scrub brush. "It must be a leaf. It's too perfect..." I thought.

I stooped to pick it up, holding my breath unconsciously. I was almost afraid to look. In my hand it was hard and light. Not a leaf, but a perfect point. A treasure. The detail and symmetry created by each strike of it's creator's hands was breathtaking. The skill it had taken to turn a chunk of stone into such a delicate but effective weapon was beyond me. The fact that I was holding something made by another human being more than hundred years ago was awesome. I tried to imagine who had made it and how they used it. Were they proud of it or was it just something they made on their lunch break as they sat under a tree with their fellow warriors, exchanging hunting stories? Did they shoot it at a bird and miss, or did it fall out of their pocket as they were chasing a larger animal?

I still love the thrill of finding things and my middle son seems to have inherited it from me. He also walks with his head down, scanning the ground for any kind of treasure. I've started keeping a box of all his finds. It will take a long time to fill it up because most things he finds are miniscule. I've been known to throw pennies into the grass ahead of him when he's not looking so that he can have the fun of finding them, but someday I know he'll find something more unusual.


This is my submission for the Mama Says Om theme of the week: Unusual