It seems like our mind contains a treasure box that is filled with fond memories. It is tremendously difficult to choose just one or put a ranking on them. So here is one:
Our grandmother created two small treasure chests out of old, metal chocolate boxes and filled them with her costume jewelry. One was for the male cousins and the other was for the females. They were hidden in the grandparents’ huge stone house that included a creepy dark, dank basement to top where there was a spacious apartment for the maid of yonder days that eventually turned into our sleeping quarters as the family grew.
The cousins spent hours searching for the treasure chest of the opposite team. If found, it would be re-hidden, and ones who lost their treasure were taunted. In hindsight, it was a brilliant ploy to keep us busy and in the house while the adults played bridge or scrabble or do whatever adults do.
When Grammy died, I tracked down one of the chests and brought back. Once my nieces and nephews were old enough, I passed along the tradition at Mom’s house.