We pile into the truck; originally M and K plan to ride with their grandparents but at the last minute get cold feet. Instead we follow them the short drive to Moose Lake. Grammy was excited to hear that we’d be visiting this weekend. It was the annual Agate Stampede and she’s wanted to take her grandkids to it since she moved up here. So we go, unsure of what we are getting into, armed with plastic potato salad containers.
The streets are already lined with parked cars, even 45 minutes before the start of the Stampede. We are lucky and find two parking spots just a block and a half away. We count our lucky stars since we have the baby and two whiny, tired elementary schoolers with us.
We choose a spot at the end of the street and wait. I listen to the conversations around me, trying to get a sense of what we are in for. One man says that he brings quarters in his pockets every year to give to kids. Another says that he has seen adults pick kids up and move them out of their way.
The plan is that Poppa will take K Man and Craig will take Miss M.
Every year, one street in Moose Lake is blocked off for the Agate Stampede. At 2 o’clock a dump truck arrives to dump its load across the span of one city block. The load holds many ordinary rocks, agates and $300 in quarters. When the cannon sounds, the hunt begins. But we’re still waiting. It’s not quite two o’clock. The fire truck has arrived with a dispatch of firefighters and several other volunteers line the rope that cordons off the middle of the street. There are people at least 5 deep on both sides of the road. I’m certain the population of this sleepy town has doubled or tripled today.
At five minutes to two, the dump truck arrives and parks at the other end of the street from where we are. I start to wonder if we’ve chosen the wrong end of the street. I also start to wonder if I should be allowing my children to participate in the madness.
Adults are allowed to hunt at the same time as children. With wishful thinking I somehow concoct that children get to search first for a little while but I am sadly mistaken.
Two o’clock arrives and the dump truck begins its journey down the street. It empties its load several feet before it gets to the end of the street. There is nothing in front of us. The cannon sounds and the kids and their escorts take off up the street.
There is virtually no way for them to even get close to the rocks. There are people everywhere. I stay back with Ms. D and Grammy and start to dig in my purse for quarters to offer my kids as consolation prizes.
The jubilant expressions of grown men carrying 5-gallon pails filled with rocks turns my stomach a little. There are so many kids that this should be fun for, but who will get nothing for their efforts. I wonder why adults feel the need to participate in this at all. Is it the lure of the $300 in quarters that they might find $2 worth that brings them? Is it the agates themselves? Are agates even worth that?
It is my feeling that this should be a child-only hunt. Adults have many other ways to amuse themselves on a Saturday afternoon that children cannot do. I have no desire to dig in rocks to find rocks or even quarters. If I didn’t have kids I wouldn’t have gone at all. But it was a first experience that we will never do again. I don’t need to seek out adults behaving badly. I encounter enough of them as it is.
My children eventually got close enough to pick up a few of the regular stones that were in the mix. K Man was thoroughly confused and trying to break his rocks open to get money out of them. I had to explain again that there was no money inside the rocks, that mommy would give him some quarters because all the other people took all the quarters before he even reached the rocks.
The streets are already lined with parked cars, even 45 minutes before the start of the Stampede. We are lucky and find two parking spots just a block and a half away. We count our lucky stars since we have the baby and two whiny, tired elementary schoolers with us.
We choose a spot at the end of the street and wait. I listen to the conversations around me, trying to get a sense of what we are in for. One man says that he brings quarters in his pockets every year to give to kids. Another says that he has seen adults pick kids up and move them out of their way.
The plan is that Poppa will take K Man and Craig will take Miss M.
Every year, one street in Moose Lake is blocked off for the Agate Stampede. At 2 o’clock a dump truck arrives to dump its load across the span of one city block. The load holds many ordinary rocks, agates and $300 in quarters. When the cannon sounds, the hunt begins. But we’re still waiting. It’s not quite two o’clock. The fire truck has arrived with a dispatch of firefighters and several other volunteers line the rope that cordons off the middle of the street. There are people at least 5 deep on both sides of the road. I’m certain the population of this sleepy town has doubled or tripled today.
At five minutes to two, the dump truck arrives and parks at the other end of the street from where we are. I start to wonder if we’ve chosen the wrong end of the street. I also start to wonder if I should be allowing my children to participate in the madness.
Adults are allowed to hunt at the same time as children. With wishful thinking I somehow concoct that children get to search first for a little while but I am sadly mistaken.
Two o’clock arrives and the dump truck begins its journey down the street. It empties its load several feet before it gets to the end of the street. There is nothing in front of us. The cannon sounds and the kids and their escorts take off up the street.
There is virtually no way for them to even get close to the rocks. There are people everywhere. I stay back with Ms. D and Grammy and start to dig in my purse for quarters to offer my kids as consolation prizes.
The jubilant expressions of grown men carrying 5-gallon pails filled with rocks turns my stomach a little. There are so many kids that this should be fun for, but who will get nothing for their efforts. I wonder why adults feel the need to participate in this at all. Is it the lure of the $300 in quarters that they might find $2 worth that brings them? Is it the agates themselves? Are agates even worth that?
It is my feeling that this should be a child-only hunt. Adults have many other ways to amuse themselves on a Saturday afternoon that children cannot do. I have no desire to dig in rocks to find rocks or even quarters. If I didn’t have kids I wouldn’t have gone at all. But it was a first experience that we will never do again. I don’t need to seek out adults behaving badly. I encounter enough of them as it is.
My children eventually got close enough to pick up a few of the regular stones that were in the mix. K Man was thoroughly confused and trying to break his rocks open to get money out of them. I had to explain again that there was no money inside the rocks, that mommy would give him some quarters because all the other people took all the quarters before he even reached the rocks.
We came back to my in-law’s home and the kids washed th
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And reading this reminds me of my town's Easter egg hunt, where you'd be hard pressed to see an actual child on the field within seconds of the start. Sad, really.
That is so sad. I cannot even imagine doing something like that and ruining it for children!
Wow. Sounds like the BlogHer swag debacle - lol! Seriously, I don't understand why adults can't step aside and just let the kids have their fun. All for a bunch of rocks and random quarter. Sad.
The nerve of those people! I can't believe that they don't just make it a kids only deal, or at least have separate events for kids and adults. It sounds like it would have been a blast for little ones if the adults would shove off. Argh! Some people!
Yeah they should make it a kids only deal. That would piss me off too!
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