A Rolling Stone

In the late 1980s my father and I hiked to the old Sunset mine. There, we found this large rock full of iron pyrite. You know, fool’s gold. The rock looked painted in gold, the pyrite was so thick. Dad and I took turns carrying the heavy thing back down the trail. At home, it became a door stop for the cabin, and dad loved telling people it was real gold but ‘he didn’t need the money’.

So of course it was stolen.

This past week I was talking to a police officer friend about restoration work that will be happening at Sunset mine, which led into telling him about that rock and how somebody stole it back in the early 1990s, obviously thinking they were going to get rich.

He started laughing and said ‘I know where that rock is!’

A local person who has been in and out of jail many, many times, has frequently told people that he’s rich because he has a big rock full of gold. He ‘found’ it years ago. The officer has heard him say this many times.

Yesterday, the officer friend was on a call that involved another person who is well-known to the police. That guy mentioned that his friend recently gave him a rock full of gold.

I told my friend that if he sees that rock he’s to confiscate it. Doubt he could do that, but wouldn’t it be great if the rock came home? I assume it’s the same one, because how many big rocks thickly coated with fool’s gold can be floating around our little neck of the woods? Well, actually, probably quite a few now that I think about it. But still. If that rock ever does come home I’ll take a photo of it and post it here.

Meanwhile, I kind of like the idea that the rock just keeps rolling on, moving from story to story.

Somewhere, dad is laughing.

3 thoughts on “A Rolling Stone

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