At first glance, it's just a rust-covered pan, typical of what could be found in the trash, hiding behind an old abandoned building. But, its more than that.

This pan is more than a hundred years old. It belonged to my great-grandfather, to my grandfather, then my father. It's the pan that found those small, glistening nuggets, taken from small streams in the mountains of Arizona and California, from which my mother's wedding rings were created.

I cannot  begin to imagine the events this pan had laid witness to, or how many stories lie beneath that blanket of red crust. Oh, the history lessons it could teach. Held by calloused hands, it tasted the water that held those particles of nature that men sought, and died for, in their search for wealth. It heard the cries, and caught the tears, of many who failed in their endeavors.

At one time I considered restoring it to it's earlier time, then realized I would be destroying a history book, and the protective blanket that preserves those untold stories, hopefully, for many more years to come. It will be passed to my grandchildren.

               copyright: richard riddle-February 16,2015