It’s mid nineteen-seventies, I’m out on my Grandparents’ farm with my mom and dad visiting when time reaches that place where the food has been consumed and cleanup has begun. Grand pop and dad have made their way to the sitting room and began the conversation that runs from catching up on daily life to spiraling into politics of which they are on opposite ends.

Grand mom and mom are in the kitchen discussing the evening menu and recipes as they engage in dish washing and packaging leftovers for the refrigerator.

Neither conversation was of interest to a teenage boy so I made my way outside. I stood there taking in the scene before me and the options available. I could go in the garage and check the oil in the tractors and enter later conversation with a report on my findings or I could take on an exploratory mission in the barn. I had explored the barn many times before but my dad’s youngest brother was always working on some project and would often do so in the barn loft creating an ever changing treasure hunt.
Today I have decided to enter a small building attached to the side of the barn. I had only been in there a handful of times upon request. It was a place where useful things were stored such as bushel baskets, gardening implements and other tools. The times that I had been in there were of purposes other than a lingering treasure hunt. Today, I would change that.

I made my way in and walked past the things I expected to see there and pushed on deeper as the light left me. I walk past a huge two wooden wheeled cart. The sideboards were much higher than I could see but my imagination was assuring me I had hit the mother load. I had to move some boxes as I made my way towards the back with anticipation of my loot when to my disappointment, it was empty. I stood there still looking for something that wasn’t there when I saw it. Something hanging on the wall. Though it was dark, my young eyes could just make out an outline. It was the beginning of years of adventure.

“What was it”, you ask?

I love stories like this. Even though I didn't get to trap or hunt as a young boy, finding mysterious objects in old barns or junk piles has sparked lifelong adventures for many.
For me it was an old tackle box full of mepps spinners.

Sly, you have inspired another story from my youth. Be looking for it.