Opinion

No hidden treasure here but precious medals nonetheless

Friday, April 22, 2016

Growing up in a very suburban Chicago georgian-style 1950s home, I'd always longed for an old house with all its requisite eccentricities, nooks and crannies and remote areas to explore.

What young boy didn't foster a desire to be one of the Hardy Boys and find a fortune in the attic or crammed into the floorboards?

Certainly older homes offer that intrigue along with their other typical issues.

But as a homeowner myself over the past 30 years, I've owned only ranch houses and homes built in the 1980s. Little style. Little mystery. Little room to motivate the mind.

Ah, but my latest abode is decidedly different, more than 85 years old now at last count, and nicely tucked into a tree-filled neighborhood on Greencastle's north side.

It comes with attic recesses to explore and closets cleverly created amid dormers and a full (albeit unfinished) basement, part of which was apparently once an underground garage.

While all that seems to keep dust bunnies multiplying like rabbits, there are still areas I have hardly set foot in over the five months I've lived in the place.

But that all changed the other day when I braved the dirty basement to mindlessly throw in a couple loads of laundry.

Heading down the narrow stairway that comes out of the kitchen pantry and goes below, I was a little miffed to find the bath towels in the dryer needing some added attention.

Adding a few minutes to the timer, I decided not to climb back up the stairs but rather to poke around the basement and explore some more.

Some interesting finds emerged.

A box of canning jars was left behind in the corner. Something I'll never need.

An entire cabinet is stuffed with skeins of ribbon and crafty pieces that are now so dust-covered they have been rendered useless. Definitely trashcan-bound.

Seems I've also inherited more pants hangers (the narrow ones with clips that hold the upside-down pant legs together) than any man would need for a lifetime.

Wandering into the adjacent area near the furnace and water heater, I was preoccupied by disgust at how much dust was on the wooden shelving there when I spotted some kind of package on the top shelf.

My eyes widened. My heart raced. My pulse quickened.

Inside the large dusty (of course) heavy-duty envelope appeared to be a number of jewelry cases. Treasure at last? Gold doubloons and pieces of eight? Handed down from Applegate? Instantly I became one of those Hardy Boys as I pondered what the package might hold.

Pearls? Gold jewelry? Diamonds?

Sadly for my sake, no. But precious medals nonetheless.

As in a Purple Heart, Meritorious Service Medal, World War II Army Occupation Medal, Good Conduct Medal, Korean Service Medal and more. Some 13 pieces in all.

And all belonging to Rex O. Boswell, whose obituary was carried by the Banner Graphic in 1992.

Oddly, there is no record of Rex O. Boswell having lived at my new address, although Putnam County Veterans Service Officer Jerry Williamson did some checking and learned that Boswell's sister, Betty Hartsaw, apparently ordered the medals when she lived there.

But the mystery remains. Why were they left behind? And who can I give them to?

As much as I wanted that dusty, half-hidden package to yield some treasure for me, it's obvious these medals are a family treasure. And they needed to be returned to the heirs of Rex Boswell.

Here's hoping I won't have to enlist the Hardy Boys in finding them.