One day god only knows how many years ago, my Dad went to an antique shop in Meridian, Idaho and brought home this gong. It weighs a ton. For some reason I was always fascinated by it. Didn’t care about his antique clocks or all this other bric-a-brac. It floated around the house – used as a door stop at times.
Later in life he wanted to know what things I wanted from the house that he and Mom had. The only thing I wanted was this gong.
I’ve had an oriental woman try to buy it, saying it was a fire gong that was used to alert a village in case of fire. She got mad when I would not sell it to her, telling me I was foolish, that it had no value except to someone who knew what it was for.
It may not be worth a plug nickel other than the metal it is made of, but for some reason I simply love this old gong. Sometimes I put it on a cord and whack it and it makes a big bong. For now it isn’t being pressed into service other than sitting on a table, making itself a focal point.