For the Love of Rocks-- An Abbynormal Relationship---


I have always loved rocks. Some of my youngest memories were hunting for rocks. I believe it is an inherited trait past on from my mother’s mother. When I was young and living in Oregon our place was across the street from my grandmothers. She had tons of beautiful rocks that grandpa and her went out and found. They also had Indian arrowheads and bowls with grinding stones. Some of the rocks were huge and full of crystals. Some were small and full of beautiful colors. Agate, Jasper, Quartz, and petrified wood, were the ones I remember the most. Rocks are important to some of the other members of my family also, so much so that my grandmother’s rock treasures are already spoken for when she passes away.

When we moved to Las Vegas , I had to readjust to the rocks you find out here. Many weekends during the summer, my parents would take us out to the lake. I would spend a lot of time looking for special rocks and fossils. I loved fossils and wanted to be an archeologist when I grew up. I would search, and search until my back ached hoping to find the big one, a dinosaur fossil. I never found the big one, just a few sea floor fossils and small interesting rocks. I never quit my hunting. A few decades later and I am still in love with rocks. In fact, rocks are my favorite gifts to get. I tried to teach family and friends in my life to bring me rocks as gifts when they were out of town. This was quite the problem for some of them. They did not seem to know how to hunt for a rock. Was this too simple? Maybe it was not enough of a challenge for them. Maybe they needed a moving target. Did they feel that they had to spend money? I am a simple person and I do not need someone to spend money on me, yet to give me some of their time, that is special. It takes time to hunt for rocks. One guy friend I had drove an eighteen wheeler. He brought me rocks from each state from here to Louisiana . When he would stop at the rest stops, he would go out hunting for rocks. He remarked about how it was crazy to be looking for rocks, yet there he was wondering around hunting for the “right one”. He rather laughed when he found himself scanning the sides of the road as he drove, hunting for rocks.

Some of my mighty hunters have done well, bringing in rock trophies equal to that of a mighty elk. Some on the other hand brought me road kill. It is the thought that counts, right?…

Rocks hold memories of the beautiful places I have been. In addition, unlike souvenirs that collect dust around my house these can be kept outside in the garden.

In the fall of 2008 I took a trip to Carmel California to see the Tor House, a rock house and tower that the late poet Robinson Jeffers built for his wife Una. He put into the wet concrete mortar of the walls of his house special rocks and souvenirs from places that his wife and he had visited from other countries. The place was breathtaking! My creative mind was screaming. What love a man must have to build such a beautiful place for his wife!

While at delivering mail one day I came across a house that had the whole outside done in rock. Not just your normal all the same type of rock, but a wide variety of rocks. Like someone’s rock collection!  I stopped and talked with the owner of the house one day as she came out to get her mail. She told me the man who did this many, many years ago went as far as New Mexico and Arizona

to gather rocks. Whenever I am delivering mail in this neighborhood, I stop to admire his handy work. I feel a sort of kindred spirit when I am near places like these. To know I am not alone in my creative abbynormal feelings.

http://www.torhouse.org/