Page 103 - REALLY What A time Book IX

REALLY SO WHAT
What A Time

OUR BACK YARD

bonkers over time capsules. Every other week we’d hear
about another place that one had been buried.

Playing around the bridge, was only on the weekends because
we’d get chased off if the workers were around. I’d found
holes along the bottom of the cement. Where it had not
settled completely into the dirt.

Those holes and the news items struck home with me. I’d
make up my own Time Capsule. Collecting some of my own
precious belongings to bury under the bridge.

I had a couple of fine Texas six shooters. They were silver,
with fancy carvings and white plastic handles. They held and
shot rolls of caps, 50 or more. There were more expensive
guns, that held 6 cap discs, but I never had one. Actually the
rolls were best because like the cowboys in the movies I never
ran out of ammunition.
I chose one, an older one, and because it would rust over the
years I wrapped it in oil cloth. An old rag from Mom and
soaked it with Pop’s motor oil.

In a mason jar I put several rolls of caps. That would be my
Time Capsule. I wasn’t about to add my only holster. I did
have a few coins, maybe 35 cents, nickels, dimes and pennies
that I threw into the jar. There was no note greeting the
future, nor date, nor why my treasure was buried. This was
top secret. Maybe left to Archeologist to discover their
meaning in the far distant future.

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