Long Lost Treasure

 Giuseppe Bianchi was my great-grandfather born and raised in northern Italy in the city of Genoa. I unfortunately, never gotten a chance to met him, he died while I was still a new born. His house had caught on fire during the night while, he was asleep in the living room. The autopsy stated that, the smoke from the fire put him in a comatose state before his body was severely burned. Apparently he died peacefully not feeling any pain.

  His legacy was known throughout the city of Genoa as the Italian general to lead Italy to their first victory in battle during World War II. The people in Genoa city worshipped the ground that he walked on, so I heard. Anywhere in the city that my great-grandfather dined out at, he ate for free. The local bars would let him drink on the house. A lot of women weather; old, young, virgins and some were married threw themselves onto him every chance they would get knowing, he was a married man. I respect my great-grandfather for never giving into the temptation of adultery. 

   My family was the talk of the town for many decades after that. Everyone looked forward to me becoming an army man just like my dad, grandfather and great-grandfather. I broke that cycle when I moved to the United States at the age of eighteen to became a college professor. I taught English at Columbia University in New York City. To be honest I think my dad and my dad’s parents are a little disappointed in me that, I didn’t follow in the footsteps of the men in the family. I had uncles and cousins who were heavily into the military as well. I didn’t see any interest in being an army man. I didn’t have it in me to be strict like my father and grandfather. I was bashful and quiet as a child and mostly stayed with my mother. My dad would take me fishing and I would cry because, I didn’t like the way the fish looked or sound when it was out of water. The flopping and popping noises didn’t sit very well with me as a kid. I remember running away from the fish screaming at the top of my lungs every time my dad or one of my uncles reeled in a fish. Till this day I don’t eat fish because of the childhood trauma.

  It hurt me that, my father didn’t consider me a man until I got engaged to my wife Veronica three years ago. I think my father expected that, I was going to marry a man since I was a bit on the softer side compared to most men, especially the men in my family. I guess he had a point for believing that. I didn’t participate in any sports or even watched them on tv. I’ve always kept my room neat and clean unlike most males and I never had girls coming over to my house or even going over to any girls houses as a teenager. Veronica was the first and only girl I’ve introduce to my family. I can tell they were relieved that I was dating a pretty, attractive, American woman.

  The day that my father declared me a man was the day he gave me something very special that I would never forget. My great-grandfather had a custom made medal that was design by the mayor of Genoa city during World War II for him being a hero during those times of chaos. On the day that the medal was passed down to me, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and satisfaction that my father finally acknowledged me for who I truly was. Growing up I was treated differently from the other males in my family on my father side. At times it was aunts, uncles and even some cousins who made rude or unnecessary comments on my appearance and behavior when I was a child. I was mainly treated oddly by my father due to me being less masculine in his eyes and not taking the military route. Our relationship grew stronger after the medal exchange. Out of everyone in the family I know for sure he was saved from embarrassed of me not marrying or dating the same sex. 

I kept the gold metal in a safe spot at my apartment back in New York. Every time I went home to visit my family I would always carry it with me as a good luck charm.

“Buzz, buzz”. It was my cellphone vibrating. The caller ID read, "Dad", at the top of the lock phone screen. It was quite odd for my dad to call me at this hour of the night. I guess he must of forget what time it was in New York or maybe something terrible happen.

I answered the phone hesitating to talk. “Hello?”, I struggled to say. My heart was racing. I hope nothing happened to someone back at home.

“Jeremy”, my dad said clearing his throat. “Sorry to call you at such a weird hour but, I have a favor to ask you. The medal I had given you a few years back, I need to borrow it for the Treasure Museum here in Genoa city. The museum wants to show case the piece during an exhibit for the next couple of weeks honoring your great-grandfather and other soldiers who fought proudly during the war. Their also going to hold a speech about your great-grandfather as well. Do you think it would be possible for you to come home with the medal?”

“Wow, dad that sounds great.” I took a long sigh when I realized nothing was wrong. “I’m sure I can visit and stay for a few days due to spring break which is coming up next week so, this is perfect timing. I can make it down there by next week for sure.”

  With that I hung up the phone and finished correcting the last essay for the night at my work station. I stood up to shut off the lights in my office room to head upstairs to the bedroom where, I kept the medal. I had opened my closet that held not only my clothing but also the medal wrapped in a cloth like a newborn baby hidden inside a wooden box in the upper left hand corner on the shelf in my closet

                              *****

  It was time to board the plane, I was standing in line at terminal B in LaGuardia Airport. I had a two-hour layover flight in Tennessee then the next flight would land me at my birth location, the big city of Genoa. Going back home to visit was always fun. It was always something new to do. My wife couldn’t come with me to Italy this time since she had to care for her mom, who was having knee surgery so, I promised I would facetime her so that she can virtually see the sights.

  I almost never carried the medal in my luggage, I was always fearful of my luggage being lost with the medal inside it. The medal remained with me in my carry on along with my laptop in my backpack. Once I boarded the plane I started a conversation with a man maybe, ten years older than I who was also was an Italian native himself but, he had never been to the city of Genoa. I told him all about my eighteen years of living there plus my great-grandfather fighting in the war and his impact on Genoa city. He couldn’t believe how much history I knew and how my family was assertive in the military. 

“What happen to you sunny? Why haven’t you join?”, the man asked rubbing his five o’ clock shadow.

I shifted in my seat before I answered the question. “I just wanted to be different, to show that a military career isn’t the only successful career for a man.”

The man nodded his head in agreement and replied, “good answer.”

  Ironically the man and I had similar seats after the lay over flight which started more conversations. He offered to buy me an alcohol beverage to unwind since this was going to be a long exhausting flight. I took him upon his offer and he paid for the two whiskey on the rocks I had. The man had three drinks when your really suppose to have only two alcoholic beverages on the plane. He tipped the flight attendant a crisp hundred dollar bill for the third drink.

   “Excuse me sir, I have to use the bathroom”, I said squeezing through him to get to the aisle. My insides were rumbling as I was walking to the back of the plane for the bathroom. My stomach was twisting and turning in knots. I felt like a nuclear explosion was inside my gut. It was such a relief to make it to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet quickly wiping it down from the person before me and instantly felt relief from both ends. When I had arrived back to the seat the, man was asleep just that fast. I pulled down the latch to shut the light off from entering through the window and went to sleep myself.

   I was awakened with a tap on my shoulder that we had just landed in Italy by one of the female flight attendants. The older man next to me was already gone. Maybe he couldn’t wake me up, I am a heavy sleeper at times especially when I have a drink or two on an empty stomach. I grabbed my carry on bag from under the seat and meet up with my family who was waiting for me in the luggage area. My parents and grandparents were all standing abreast from one another to greet me. I kissed the woman on the cheeks and saluted the men.

“Come on Jeremy, let’s head to the museum to submit the medal right away. I already told them that, that will be our first stop once you land.”

“Sure, thing dad", I responded with a smile.

  The museum was huge. It was an old cathedral that was transformed into a museum. A few minutes after our arrival we were greeted by one of the directors of the museum who was helping show case my great-grandfather exhibit. He gave my family and I a free two-hour tour of the entire museum and we even meet some of the marketing team managers and assistants aiding with the exhibit. Everyone was joyous for the event.

“Okay son, hand him the medal.”

I reached into my bag, grabbed the wooden box, I unlatched the box from the lock to open it to find that it was empty. A blank white cloth stared back at me with no medal inside. This cannot be. It was in their last night. Neatly folded and wrapped up. The cloth now was unfolded and mess like a child’s bed.

“Son, did you accidentally leave the medal at home?”

“No. I know it was important for all of us, I wouldn’t just leave it home.”

I started to think back on how I started talking to the old man on the plane. I actually showed him why I was going to Italy. He must have taken it when I went to use the bathroom or while I was asleep. That’s why, he wasn’t there when I woke up on the plane. He took the medal and ran off. I did what most people wouldn’t do, I told the truth to my family and the museum director right then and there once I discovered the empty box.

My dad immediately drove me back to the airport to report that the medal was stolen. I had taken extra time off from work to spend another week in Italy searching day and night looking for the man who stole the medal. I was beyond stressed and extremely exhausted from not getting any sleep from, the constant standing around at the airport all day. I’ve even posted multiple ads in the newspaper and online in Italy reporting that the item was a stolen family treasure and that if anyone finds it to please contact me at my email. The only replies I would get were from sympathetic people hoping that I would one day find it again. The airport police or even the Italian police never found the man who stole our family medal. It’s been three months now and my dad still hasn’t returned any of my calls or text messages. It was long gone for sure by now and it was all my fault. I sometimes wonder if my dad will ever speak to me again.