A week after the Covid-19 shut down, Jeff decided he was going to spruce up our porch. I knew this was going to be a grand ordeal. The first thing he needed was an old trunk. He began searching for the perfect one. After several days and numerous hours of searching, he found the right one. And he talked me into going to get it with him. The lady selling it was a little anxious about all this germ stuff. We donned our masks and gloves while she watched us from inside her car. Then we put the cash in the secret hiding place, grabbed the trunk, put it in the back of our Suburban, and drove off. Mission accomplished.
After seeing the trunk, I was all excited about the historical part of it. It was old. We got it home and put it on the front porch where Jeff could analyze it, move it around, decide where it should go, at what angle, and which shade he should paint it. I, in the meantime, was examining it. First I found the neat little skeleton key. It really worked! Then I found the original owner's name written in several places on the trunk in beautiful script: John Rothermel.
I found dates, too. John had written "1824" and "1832" inside the trunk. The newspaper lining the bottom was from 1933! There was also a little compartment built into the upper left side. Curious, I opened it up. More surprises!
That envelope looked old. It even had splotches from a real fountain pen on it. Hmmmm, I thought. This looks interesting. I wonder what's inside. I carefully brought it inside and set it on my desk.
I couldn't believe what was inside it when I opened it. It was gold! Gold dust to be exact; I was sure of it.
And then I thought back to the dates -- 1824 and 1832. John would have been fairly young in 1849 and probably went out to California during the Gold Rush. Poor guy, this little envelope of gold dust was all that he found, and he realized that chasing after riches was foolish, so he brought home his tiny envelope of gold dust in his trunk and there it remained. No one even bothered to clean it out as it was so inconspicuous, and here I was, the great history-teacher, treasure-hunter. After about 150 years, I had discovered it!
I called one of our friend's dads who sells gold coins and stuff like that. He told me to package it carefully and send it to him. On his next trip to Pittsburgh, he would have it examined. He asked if I wanted to sell it. I was pretty sure I did, I told him; but first I wanted to know how much it was worth. Then I patiently waited.
He called about a week later. He told me that the gold seller would have to weigh it and analyze it, and then he could give me a price. He said that gold is worth about $1,800 an ounce now, so that even a small amount could be worth a lot. I asked him how much of a commission he charged. He said it depends and to wait and see what the analyst says it was worth.
Today I got an email from him. It included these two pictures -- the top one of my precious envelope being put into the analyzer (or whatever these things are called), and the second is the result.
It was about 87% copper, and 11% zinc. No gold. Silly me. Now I'm wondering why John Rothermel, with his beautiful handwriting, kept an envelope of copper and zinc in a trunk for so many years. Maybe he had panned for it somewhere and thought it to be gold as well? And now I am the silly-goose, over-creative, dramatic-whimsical teacher, thinking I found around $2,000 inside a $40 Covid trunk. Silly me. Oh well, it never hurts to dream.
