Why I Go in Search of Buried Treasures...

A few years ago I was reading about a subset of society that I had no idea existed. There are people who spend their free time digging for buried treasures. On the beach, in the woods, along river banks these people would find valuable coins, civil war relics, buried caches, gold and jewelry. A woman in England went out in search along the countryside and found a 500 year old gold pendent depicting the Holy Trinity. The gem was estimated to be worth $250.000. An unemployed man on welfare found the largest ever collection of Anglo-Saxon artifacts worth 1.6 million. How did these people find their treasures? Not with secret maps, I assure you. They found these treasures with what I once thought was merely a toy for a 12 year old boy…a metal detector.


When I first read these stories I was immediately intrigued and wanted in on the action. I live in Atlanta, a hot bed for history, so I had visions of finding civil war relics buried deep in the ground saved from Sherman’s fire. Or maybe artifacts from the slaves that once worked the fields which are now merely suburban backyards or apartment shrubbery.

I decided I must have one of these treasure finding gadgets. I researched my choices and decided upon the Bounty Tracker IV. It cost a little over $100 but that didn’t bother me…it didn’t compare to the millions I would soon discover.

I felt like the Dad in "A Christmas Story" when my detector arrived. There was a glow of light coming from the box. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it! I put it together and immediately set out on my first ever treasure hunt. First stop, the backyard. Every time the detector beeped, my heart would do the same from the anticipation of what I had found. I dug. Hitting tree roots, finding rocks, slashing worms in half. I dug. And what did I find on my first hunt? A bottle cap. Not a bottle cap from the 1920’s but a bottle cap from a few weeks ago…it was probably mine. I didn’t give up…I kept digging. Next I found a matchbox car! How interesting. It was caked in dirt. I would need to clean it. I shoved it into my “metal detecting apron” and moved on. Next, after 15 minutes of digging, I found a penny! I rubbed the dirt off the face of the penny to find that it dated all the way back to….1997. The dream of finding a treasure was fading away. The reality of finding a yard full of metal junk was sinking in.

Never being one to give up on dreams, a few days later I went out again. My detector beeped and so I dug. My mind was sure that I would find a piece of aluminum foil or a rusty nail. I dug and I dug and I dug. Where the hell was this metal wonder? The detector kept beeping so I knew something was there. So I dug and I dug and I dug. This went on for what seemed forever as I diligently worked my way to the core of the earth when suddenly I hit something. Please tell me it’s not a rock. I saw something silver, bright silver so I knew at once it wasn’t a penny or a nail. After twenty minutes of burrowing into the land, I found my prize. I had found a baby rattle…a sterling silver antique baby rattle. It was dented but sill worked. It still made the sound that makes a baby smile. I took it inside, washed it off, polished it up and studied it under my magnifying glass. After hours of research on both google and ebay I discovered that my find was a Webster baby rattle from the 1940s. Similar baby rattles were selling on ebay from $50 to $100! Finally I had found something worth more than a penny!

A few days later…for reasons that are not relevant to this story, the landlord came to the house. In all my curiosity, I had to ask if she knew the history of this rattle. She revealed to me that it belonged to her daughter. Her eyes lit up when she saw my treasure. I was suddenly in a dilemma and wishing so much that I hadn’t asked. After a few minutes of silent reflection, I dared to pose the question, “Would you like to have the rattle?”

“No, you found it, you keep it,” she said. A long pause followed as my morals were being tested. “No, please keep it. I insist.” I was devastated. It was like winning an Olympic medal only to give it away.
I still mourn the loss of my first found treasure. Though it was not worth millions, it was worth something. It was definitely worth the time I spent digging. It was definitely worth the time I spent anticipating.

I still dig for buried treasures, but lost are the hopes of finding gold or silver or a bag full of valuable coins. I dig now for the stories. I’ve found matchbox cars and I think of the little boys playing in the backyard full of happiness, their lives still untold. I’ve found quarters and have wondered who was standing there and how exactly did that quarter fall out of their pocket. I’ve found bullet casings and have wondered what events led them there. And I’ve found junk…metal scraps, unidentified pieces of aluminum and countless tabs from soda cans. But even the junk has its story. Someone was standing there at a moment in time. The metal scraps part of something built or perhaps, something torn down. Everything I find is a remnant of another life, another future, of another story… and that is where the true value and treasure of things are found.