(Class assignment 7/7/09, most prized possession)
It wasn’t until years after his death that I recognized this piece of clay was my most prized possession. This tiny shard given to me by grandfather holds hundreds of years of history I cannot even begin to know about. Grandpa Big Cheech was my world and I his. He was a fountain of knowledge I never tapped into. “Wanda, he said in his gravelly voice, I want you to have this. Keep it safe” I held this flat rock in my hand and wondered why I had to keep it safe. I looked closely at it examining it for some clue of its preciousness. Nothing! and why would I have to keep a rock safe? I wondered to myself. I nodded politely and put it in my pocket, grandpa wouldn’t steer me wrong.
It was only one day when I needed something for who and tell that I dug this pebble out of my jewelry box and called my aunt to see if she knew the story. She gasped when I told I had it. She continued with it’s story. Grandpa was travelling in the southwest U.S. during our winters to find work. One year he worked on a construction crew that had discovered what they thought was an Indian burial ground.