My hometown's other big claim to fame is its limestone. Empire State Building? Yeah... we made that. United States Capital Building? Yeah... we made that. Lots of limestone all over the country building all sorts of beautiful buildings (including most buildings in Bloomington). And the guys that dug all of that limestone were called Cutters, thus the moniker of the bicycle dudes in the movie. And they left great (albeit illegal) swimming holes for townie kids like me - THANKS GUYS!
And also... when I was little, before houses took up the entire neighborhood (you know, in prairie times), there were these great fields where we could search for fossils for hours. I mean, from dawn to dusk, in the days when parents could let their children out of their sight and, in fact, encouraged it, we would search. We'd come home with pail-fulls of little toothlike fossils (very common), little round, disc-like fossils (common), and these delicate little balls that would crack if you pushed too hard (rare).
Anyway, that was all just to lay the foundation (pardon the pun) that there is a damn lot of limestone and there are a damn lot of fossils in my hometown.
When I was around 12, my friend G and I were playing in the creek in the woods behind my house. This creek was a refuge of mine and will most likely come up in future childhood stories, as I spent a great deal of my childhood down there.
It was spring and we were splashing around, getting our clothes soaked, just as my mom had told us not to do (HA! Defiant little 12-year-olds). We'd found this awesomelyterrifictotallygross little patch of (guess) limestone that was smooth and covered in, well, let's be honest... slime. And as the gurgling brook ran over it, it made a little slide. So we were using it as a natural "Slip 'n Slide" and having a ball until G slipped a little too far and BAM! She ran into something.
It was hard. It was really hard. It was also really, really big. And it was sticking straight up out of the bed of the creek. G looked at me. I looked at G. We stared in wonder. What could it be? It was shaped like a cone, with the pointed end sticking up. Kind of like a stalagmite, but not in a cave.
We tried to knock it over, but it didn't budge. It was then that my fossil-hunting brain went DING! This was obviously a fossil stuck in the bed of the creek! I mentioned this to G and her eyes lit up. Of course it was! We looked at it again and at the same time, turned to each other and shrieked, "It's a TOOTH!"
The excitement level in the creek was mounting with every second. Now we needed to get the tooth OUT of the ground. And I knew exactly what to do with it. My father's good friend was a geologist at the university. We could take it to him!
We struggled, we sweated, we slipped and fell. We were battered and bruised, but you got it baby! We ripped that dino tooth out of the bedrock of the earth. Triumphant, we started back to my house to ask for a ride to Dr. K's office. But G stopped me.
"What if your mom laughs at us?" Oh dear God. She would. She would think we were completely bonkers. She was also way too busy to drive us to campus.
"Yeah," I said thoughtfully, trying not to throw my mom under the bus, but... I was 12 after all. "She totally will."
"How will we get to campus?" moaned G, lugging her end of the giant, heavy tooth.
I really wasn't sure. This thing was H-E-A-V-Y. And we certainly couldn't ride our bikes with it. "The bus!" I screamed. "We can take the bus!"
Neither one of us were "public bus" kids. We took the school bus. But our parents pretty much shuttled us from place to place. Or we rode our bikes (within the boundaries set forth by our parents... or so they thought). So we had never actually taken the public transit system. But there was a first time for everything, and we were almost grown-ups, AND, this was an emergency.
So I crept into my house, snuck into my parents' room and grabbed a handful of quarters from my dad's change can (sorry Dad!!!). We went quietly down the block and to the nearest bus stop I knew of, which was out of my neighborhood - well out of the boundaries I was allowed to romp within.
On the bus, G and I practically crackled with excitement. We didn't talk about our great discovery, since we didn't want to get robbed of our treasure by the strange bus people. But both of our minds were reeling with the enormity of our find. I kept thinking of how RICH we were gonna be. I could buy all the Calvin Kleins and Izods I wanted (I'm dating myself), and I would put an addition on the house, and I'd buy myself a car even though I wouldn't be able to drive it until I was 16. Who cares! My mind just sped ahead to the television appearances and the magazine covers. I was stoked. I'd be POPULAR!
We got to campus and had quite a long hike to the geology building. I only knew where it was because it was right next to my dad's psychology building and he'd pointed out where Dr. K worked before. Fortuitous, no?
We hauled our dino tooth into the geology building, found Dr. K's name on the directory and giggled our way up to his office. The shock on his face when we walked is still one of my fondest memories. He recovered quickly. We must have been quite a sight. I don't remember well, but I'm guessing we were caked in mud, sweaty, and carrying a huge, wrapped, mysterious package, giggling like crazy teenagers. Yeah - that's the picture.
So Dr. K invited us in and asked the obvious, "What are you girls doing here?" I politely introduced him to G and began our tale of adventure. His eyes grew bigger and bigger. He twirled his mustache. He pursed his lips (I thought at the time from deep interest. I realize now, he was probably trying really hard not to laugh).
He listened to the entire story and then asked to see our trophy. We gently unwrapped our tooth, now dried and caked in dirt, but an obvious dinosaur relic, nonetheless. Dr. K gently took the tooth and inspected it. He turned it over and over, lifting his glasses every once in awhile to get a different view. G and I held hands, too excited to breathe. Eventually, Dr. K put the tooth on the desk and looked at us very seriously.
This was it. He might even cry. This could be the biggest discovery of his entire career! And he said, "Girls, I know you worked really hard to get this to me." We nodded vigorously.
And he nodded sympathetically. "And I know you're really excited," and our eyes got bigger and bigger. We sat up straighter in our seats. Here it was!
"But this is not a dinosaur tooth." He actually sounded kind of sad. What the hell was he talking about?
"This is limestone."
WHAT?!?!?!? Limestone? Stupid, stupid limestone? "No, Dr. K. This is a fossil," I explained, trying to keep myself calm. "If it's not a tooth, then it's another kind of fossil."
He nodded again, but his nod turned into a shake. "No, I'm sorry girls. This is a really interesting shape for limestone and I'm not really sure how it got where you found it, but it's limestone. It's not a fossil. I'm sorry."
I jumped up. My face was really, really, Irish-really red. It was embarrassment, of course. "It. Is. A. Fossil," I said in a deadly voice. I turned around and left the office. G came tumbling after. Her face was even redder than mine, poor girl was blonde with freckles (absolutely adorable, but a blusher).
Dr. K came out behind us and asked if he could give us a ride home. I gave him the hand (before this was "the hand") and said we got here on our own and we could get home on our own. Of course, by the time we got home, Dr. K had called my mom and she was both worried sick and feeling awful for us and our big letdown.
I didn't want to talk about it. G's mom came to pick her up soon after and I don't think G and I spoke about our great disappointment until we were in our 30s. It was just too much.
I went to my room and thought of all of my dashed hopes. All of those jeans, my Calvins. And the Izods galore! And the addition on the house, with my very own wing (oh yes, I'd built my own wing by the time we met up with Dr. K). I saw my popularity seeping down the drain. Well, I didn't have any, but the imagined popularity. *sniff*
I snuggled with my dog, Darcy and cried.
Dr. K never brought the story up again. It was only after his funeral in October, that I told his wife and kids the story and we all laughed our heads off. Dr. K was such a joker and teaser, I'm honestly surprised it didn't come up over and over and over again in the remaining 30 years (especially when I was a teenager). But he was a man of great heart. And I will miss him. Thanks Dr. K for treating two junior geologists with kid gloves.
That is the most hilarious story ever! Awesome.
ReplyDelete