Q: Who is dumber than a box of rocks? A: Someone who packs a box of rocks around for forty years.
And who do you know who has packed a box of rocks around for forty years? Yours truly. That’s who.
I have often picked up and taken home attractive rocks. Once, on a trip from the U.K. to California, I took rocks home with me, much to the amusement of the customs control agent. He said, “Why did you bring back a suitcase full of rocks?” Well, it wasn’t full of them, exactly. There were just a few.
I also picked up and carried home an interesting rock when I was in the Northwest Territories in the late 1970s. It is the biggest one seen in the above picture. I wondered what was fossilized on it, and I still wonder.
Clearly, my interest in rocks doesn’t extend far enough to actually find out anything about them. I just like how they look and feel.
As part of my sorting of miscellany, I have decided to let these rocks go. I first thought I would dump them in the back alley, but then it occurred to me that maybe there is a rock collector who would like them. My experience with my childhood doll taught me that there is probably a club for every kind of collectible, so I went online and found a local rock collectors club. I sent them an email with photos and someone is coming to pick up my rocks this weekend.
From now on, though, I’m going to leave rocks exactly where I find them. Which, I suspect, is what we are supposed to do.