Treasure Chests

So people keep reminding me that it’s “Talk Like a Pirate Day.” I don’t know why. I could look it up, but I’m not going to bother. I’m not going to talk like a pirate. But I’ll compromise and talk about treasure.

Many kids have treasure boxes in which they collect their finds—small toys, rocks, feathers…things that were of supreme importance to them at the time but which adults (even themselves at an older stage) would consider junk. My treasure box actually looked like a treasure chest. It even had a tiny lock and key, but that disappeared years ago.


It originally came filled with candy; someone gave it to me after they ate all the candy.  It held things that I once had a strange attachement to, for some reason: stamps; a Canadian flag pin; a compass; my first library card; a Gumby; a troll doll; souvenir coins; a brass bell missing its ringer; a ring I found on the ground, missing its stones; some shell casings that make no sense to me, as I’m a life-long pacifist and anti-hunter; tangled beaded jewellery; a kilt pin; a plastic souvenir tiki from Air New Zealand, courtesy of my grandmother; a couple of other things that I’m going to post about separately when I get around to it, because they are either iconic or weird.

What was in your treasure box?

4 thoughts on “Treasure Chests

  1. My dad went up north to work when I was about four and he sent me a letter while he was there. That was among my treasures, along with a quartz crystal and a rattlesnake tail from my another job that my dad had in Arizona.

  2. I have a bundle of letters from my mother from when I was at camp when I was 10, a collection of half-filled diaries, a Holly Hobby photo album with some fade Polaroids of my best friends in high school and a pressed red rose, almost black with age that was given to me on my sweet 16th birthday.

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