Copper Chameleon Read online

  *****

  Copper Basin, Tennessee 2014

  Anna Caroline Bergman methodically turned off all the cameras and recording equipment in the car she drove for an internet and mobile communications company. It was the perfect summer job for a college student. Her duties were to travel at a certain speed and record her journey. From there, roadside snapshots and video would be archived in an internet mapping program so virtual travelers could see the world from their fingertips. The project was well underway and she had readily volunteered for this particular section of the United States. She had even scheduled her break today to coincide with this particular stopover of her trip. As she exited the car, she inhaled sharply as the large open crater just visible beyond a rusty iron fence slipped into view. The wind even seemed to pick up speed as she gazed into an endless pit resembling the damage inflicted from a large fallen meteor. An equally worn historical sign proudly proclaimed that spot as the Burra Burra Mine.

  Her family’s humble beginnings started here in the copper mines. She marveled at the collapsed pit as the breeze whispered a narrative beyond the hard cold facts she had memorized while tracing her family tree. This particular mine had closed in 1958. It boasted of a vertical shaft over 2,400 feet, one of the deepest vertical shafts in North America. Simply reading a book about the area could have never prepared her for how she felt as she looked into what seemed to be an endless abyss filled with greenish water. She shuddered at the thought of going underground that far just to dig for copper ore.

  Her great, great, great grandmother had done just that according to the stories passed down from generation to generation. Amazingly the defiant woman had possessed the courage to perform a man’s job in a man’s world. Of course, Anna Caroline knew by the mischievous grin her ancestor wore in a small tattered oil portrait, the woman could not possibly have been a traditional female role model of the day. Why, Ann Marie Ward Bergmann was even wearing pants in the old oil painting. Her attire alone was morally incorrect and disgraceful for that era. She must have been a trendsetter! The time old tale even speculated that Ann Marie’s husband had painted the portrait himself as a gift to his new wife for their first Christmas. It was rumored that theirs was a strong passionate union ignited from love at first site. Anna Caroline truly wished she knew the saga in its entirety as she found it fascinating and was always searching for more information. She felt it was in her blood since she had been partially named for that distant relation due to her coppery red hair, now tangled by the errant gusts of wind. On her sixteenth birthday, the small oil portrait and a wedding tintype had been passed into her care. She could almost feel the strength of their love and determination from the two small items she considered family treasures. She truly hoped she could emulate her great, great, great grandmother, if only just by a fraction. She too must become a trendsetter if she hoped to make it in the competitive world of communications and journalism, even if it meant breaking up with a guy who didn’t quite have her best interests in mind. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering his demands of college or him. She had chosen college. She reminded herself once more that someone that selfish could not have possibly loved her. It was not a love like Ann Marie and Dirk Bergmann possessed. Taking a deep breath, she knew she had chosen the right path.

  Shaking off the flitting melancholy mood, she noticed the Ducktown / Copper Basin Museum hours of operation sign and it just happened to be open. It was her lunch break so she decided to take a tour. Perhaps she might see a glimpse of her relatives’ past in the small wooden building. She jumped back into her car to properly park, thumping her chameleon Webpet on the nose. It was a mascot of sorts, another sixteenth birthday gift, and it lived on the dash of every car she drove. It was an important reminder to continue to adapt or to become extinct. She told him she would be right back and that she was just making one short stopover in the past to quietly observe. When she returned, she would be ready to look ahead to her future.

  The Burra Burra Mine after its collapse. The water in the mine comes in contact with the remaining ore, picking up traces of copper to give it a distinct green color.

  Photo by Brian Stansberry / Creative Commons

  Author’s Note:

  All mining operations ceased in 1987 in the Copper Basin area. With a lack of diversified industry, the small surrounding towns failed to thrive. If you ever choose to visit the area, do not focus on the deserted 1960’s style store fronts or rutted roads. Instead, take a seat on the front porch, pour yourself an iced tea, and wait the moon to rise. If you listen carefully you might just hear the sounds of picks and shovels just beneath the quiet rustling of the breeze.