I sort of messed up.
A couple of weeks ago, Caroline Calvin sent me an e-mail. She mentioned that while she and her husband were walking their dogs in McClelland Park one afternoon, they came across what she described as a “smaller version of Stonehenge.” She told me that she and her husband thought the rock creation was sort of neat, and that it was obvious that someone went to quite a bit of trouble to put the thing together.
I am nothing if not a top-flight investigative reporter, so after I read Caroline’s e-mail, I made a note to check out the rock creation. Then I went back to my nap.
I’m not exactly Bob Woodward.
But eventually I did get in my car and drive out to McClelland Park to check out the local Stonehenge. It took a while, but I finally found what Caroline was talking about. I had to park my car and walk a bit, but when I came across it, there was no doubt that I was at the right place.
To call the rock structure a sculpture wouldn’t be accurate. What someone did was stack a number of fairly large stones into columns. There are about 16 or 17 of the rock columns, and each one has its own unique shape and look. The stones appear to have been stacked in a random pattern, but with a purpose ... if that makes sense.
I mean, it looks as if the stones were put together in a random fashion, but because they all somehow fit together, there must have been some sort of plan in place when the stones were stacked.
I don’t know who built the columns, and I don’t know why they built the columns. My guess is that someone was bored and thought, “Hey, why not build some rock columns?”
I like that. I like the fact that someone decided, just for the heck of it, to stack a bunch of rocks on top of each other.
I used to do things just for the heck of it. I think that’s one of the great things about being young: that ability to drop what you’re doing (or not doing) to do something else just because it sounds like fun.
I don’t do that as much as I used to, and that’s a shame. It’s one of the prices you pay for getting older. Throwing your back out while sneezing is another price you pay for getting older.
I never seem to have time to drop what I’m doing to do something else just for the heck of it. I’m pretty sure that my boss, Carol Stark, won’t believe that. Carol thinks (and she may have a point) that I don’t do anything that needs to be dropped. Carol thinks (and she may have a point) that I pretty much do everything for the heck of it.
But I don’t.
A lot of times when folks stop doing what they’re supposed to be doing to do something just for the heck of it, good things happen. How many times have you taken a drive off the beaten path just for the heck of it and run across something really neat?
How many times have you stopped at a small restaurant or diner in a small town, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, and been rewarded with a fabulous meal?
I’m pretty sure that Caroline and her husband didn’t set out to discover a miniature Stonehenge, but they did.
And I’m pretty sure that whoever created the miniature Stonehenge didn’t spend hours thinking about stacking a bunch of rocks on top of each other. I’m pretty sure they just started stacking rocks because it was fun. I’m pretty sure they decided to stack rocks because they could. I’m pretty sure they decided to stack rocks because they are young, and that’s what you do when you’re young.
Now, here comes the part where I messed up. I called the city to see if anyone with the parks department knew anything about the rock creation. They didn’t.
But what they did know was that the rock columns would probably have to come down. Evidently there is a bit of a liability issue when you have 16 or 17 tall rock columns in a public park. That’s something I hadn’t thought about.
So it sounds as if Stonehenge is coming down, and it’s probably my fault. But that’s OK. I’m guessing that whoever created the rock columns will probably move on to create something else.
Just for the heck of it.
