I slipped downstairs with a small shovel and started digging under the stairwell.
When I was a child, my childhood home was a three-story Victorian beauty nestled on an island in the San Francisco Bay. It was the perfect place for a child with an active imagination. The first level of the home housed two garages, a bar, a laundry room, a pottery room, and an extra room that we used as a playroom.
As children, my brother Dave and I would pretend the old home had secret rooms and passages, and we would explore. Our favorite places included the large lounge bar with the heavy paneling and red upholstered benches, the laundry room, the playroom and the pottery room. The laundry room had rough wooden planking for flooring, and the door that led to the garage was rustic with a rope latch that opened the door. At one time, someone had painted two different murals on the rough planked walls that resembled a rustic cabin. Next to this room was the playroom, and it also had wooden walls and a dirt floor! Off of this room was the pottery room. We called it that because it housed a large old kiln. We were not even sure if it worked. This room had a cement slab for flooring except for under the stairwell.
One day when I was about five or six years old, it was raining, so I couldn’t go outside to play. I slipped downstairs with a small shovel and started digging under the stairwell. To my amazement, I eventually found treasure! While using a plastic beach shovel, I hit something hard. Frantically, I started shoveling faster until I unearthed a copper teapot with a porcelain handle. Although I searched for several days, I never did find the lid for my pot, but I was pretty happy with my discovery.
After I carefully cleaned the teapot, I proudly displayed my find on my knick-knack shelf in my bedroom. One day, my dad told me that I would have to ask my uncle Lyle if I could keep the pot since the house belonged to him. For several days I worried that I would have to give my treasured find to my uncle. The following weekend, my uncle and his family came to visit. Once my cousin went off to play with my brothers, and after my mom and aunt went into the kitchen to visit, I finally had my uncle alone, and I worked up the courage to talk to him. I took my teapot off my shelf and proudly showed him my discovery. He smiled and took my pot and carefully examined it and explained that I had found a great treasure. As he studied it, I held my breath, for I was afraid I would have to hand it over to him. When he gave it back to me, I explained to him what my father had told me. He gave me a warm smile, and his eyes sparkled. Laughing softly, he bent over and said to me that it was an incredible discovery and my treasure to keep. Thrilled with this news, I hugged him tightly as he laughed.
To this day, my little teapot has continued to follow me from home to home. This little beauty has resided in my current home nestled on top of my kitchen cabinets. I have enjoyed this little treasure, for it has reminded me of my loving uncle and my childhood days.
I found a copper teapot with a porcelean handle on ebay. The seller was selling the vintage copper and brass Holland teapot kettle with Delft porcelain handle for $34.00.