Theodore Roosevelt's long-lost pocket watch, which braved more adventures than a reality TV star, has been found at a Florida auction 36 years after its mysterious theft.

Stolen in 1987 from the Theodore Roosevelt Inaugural National Historic Site, Roosevelt’s pocket watch, a treasured gift from his sister Corinne and brother-in-law Douglas, resurfaced miraculously at a Florida auction. The watch, which gallantly accompanied Roosevelt through the Spanish-American War, safaris in Africa, and Amazonian explorations, has finally made its way back home, thanks to the diligent efforts of the FBI and National Park Service. Now displayed at Sagamore Hill National Historic Site, the watch continues to keep time as the investigation into its theft remains open.

The silver-coined Waltham 17 jewel watch, 'Riverside' grade, model 1888, has been around the block—quite literally, considering it has seen more action than most of us who attend Comic-Con. It was inscribed with the heartfelt message, 'THEODORE ROOSEVELT FROM D.R. AND C.R.R.' No, those aren’t some random radio stations, but the initials of Corinne Roosevelt Robinson and her husband Douglas Robinson Jr., who gave Theodore this watch in 1898, just before he dashed off to the Spanish-American War.

Imagine the tales this watch could tell if it could talk! It witnessed Roosevelt's audacious charge up San Juan Hill, heard the whispers of the African savannah during safari hunts, and felt the pulse of Amazonian explorations. It also spent quite a bit of time playing hide and seek, but unlike your average game, this one lasted 36 years. One can only assume it needed that long to recover from the fearsome adventures of its owner.

The pocket watch’s sudden appearance at the Florida auction caught everyone off guard. Was it vacationing? Sightseeing Disney World? The reasons are still a mystery, but what's clear is that the watch turned up in a place where people usually find snow globes and alligator-shaped keychains. The watch, of course, was the real treasure.

With a plot thicker than pea soup, the case quickly garnered the attention of the FBI and National Park Service. Teaming up like a buddy cop duo, they worked to authenticate the watch. Apparently, 'CSI: Antiquities' is more of a thing than we knew, and soon enough, they confirmed that this was indeed Theodore Roosevelt's pocket watch.

Back in New York, at the Sagamore Hill National Historic Site, the watch now sits on display, ticking away peacefully. It's surrounded by other historical artifacts, probably regaling them with stories of grand adventures and narrow escapes. 'You think you're interesting?' it might say to a dusty typewriter. 'Try charging up San Juan Hill in a pocket!'

The theft investigation, however, remains as open as a bag of chips at a Super Bowl party. Despite the watch’s return, the mystery of who nicked it back in 1987 remains unsolved. We can only guess that playing hide and seek for 36 years had its rules, but the thief? Still anonymous, still at large.

Over the decades, there have been numerous theories about the watch’s disappearance, each more colorful than the next. Some hypothesized a dastardly plot by history-loving magpies, while others leaned towards ambitious pranksters with a taste for presidential keepsakes. Conspiracy theories aside, our silver watch seems to have traveled more than most politicians on campaign trails.

For those eager to glimpse the well-traveled timepiece, a trip to Sagamore Hill now offers the opportunity. There, amidst the relics of the past, Roosevelt’s pocket watch stands as a testament to the voyages both literal and historical. It has crossed continents, survived battles, and somehow, inexplicably, managed a surprise cameo in Florida—where we hope it snuck in a beach day or two before being summoned back to historical significance.

As for the thief, perhaps they are out there now, silently gloating over their long game of watch-napping. Or maybe they're scratching their head, wondering how the legacy of a pocket watch could stretch so far and wide. Regardless, the watch’s return serves as a reminder that some heirlooms—particularly one as storied as Roosevelt's—never lose their way permanently. They just go on extended adventures.