Just twenty-three years ago this summer we had the privilege of witnessing a Reno County frog hop over the line easily on one of the streets off Main in the lovely town of Hutchinson, Kansas.
Oh no, I am not joking, you see, Hutchinson, (I might add) has always been one of the most interesting and awe-inspiring medium sized towns in the state of Kansas, or the country for that matter. Every year, they did put their heads together and came up with a summer celebration for the people of the town and came up with something called the Hutch-fest.
Now hubby and I were the grand parents of five handsome, lively boys, two who lived here in town, Ryan and Mike, and three who lived in Colorado Springs; John Edward, Jesse and Jason. They took turns coming to our fair city from the Springs. John, named after both our dads, is the oldest grandson and it was his turn to stay a few weeks in the summer of 1995.
We had been talking about how we would win the frog race, as we planned how to catch some speedy runners that would “toad” the line. Of course, I had entered the names of John E., Ryan, and Mike a few days before, but now we needed the actual contestants…the frogs, of course.
Early that morning when I got back from the grocery store, I had a glimpse of the boys. They each had a towel wrapped around their heads and were carrying some big buckets in which to put the anticipated contestants. It was evident from their dejected faces, they hadn’t been successful.
To the average passer-by on 43rd Avenue, they might have wondered what this threesome was all about. Still, there were no police around and no one seemed to be lost. On the other hand, they had their own races to get ready.
But then the Secret Intelligence drove up in his van; he (Grandpa) had gone to a pond earlier and put them in a gunny sack. “Here are your three racers, and they look like winners ro me!” Confidentially, I doubt if he had try outs!
It was 8:30 a.m. sharp, Saturday, July 1, when this Grandma picked up the three young men from the Union Valley Bible Church where they had helped Grandpa serve a men’s breakfast. I took them to the place at 9:30 where they registered for the big race on Sherman, just off of Main.
A quick phone call was made to Agent Grandpa at the church as he washed the last dish and hurried to meet them with the precious cargo, three hopper toads in a bucket.
Colorfully clad people thronged around the circle painted on the street near Main. Grandparents with heavy eyes, having arisen at 5 in the morning to catch the hopping toads. Parents with little children that often let go of their little jumpers in their hand. You had to look every which way before you took a step. There was a great feeling of anticipation and excitement in the air.
At last it was time, the smaller children (including Mike) got in the middle of the circle with their substitute pets and they were off. The rule was simple, you couldn’t touch the frog after they left the inner circle.
Little tennis shoes stomped the ground to get them going. Alas. one little foot accidentally stomped on the runner. A brief silence ensued until the frog got back up and hopped away happily.
Each age group was given their moment in the sun. Mike has his with the 9-year-olds, Ryan with 12-year-olds and John with the 14 and older. Each time one entered their race, the others observed and learned something; Mike’s toad won third. Ryan’s second, and John E.’s first.
It was now time for the grand jump with all the first-place winners. Grandson John whispered to his prodigy “You can do it!” The adrenalin raged in the little toad as he made his mighty jumps to the edge of the circle and was declared the winner, “The best frog jumper in Reno County!” This called for a picture to be taken. The Hutch News photographer had disappeared so Special Agent Grandma got the job. She (me) got down on the ground and took it. Never mind, my grandsons had to help me up later, I got the photo.
The three little toads, breathing heavily from all the exertion, were driven back home by Agent Grandpa. The bucket was placed in the garden with the sprinkler going nearby. The toads, sensing freedom, jumped higher than they ever had before, they were happy and satisfied.
They enjoyed their delicious supper of fresh garden bugs and called their family together to reminisce the day’s victory. As did we. I think we could even say our three grandson agents mentally jumped for joy in their minds as they divided the fruits of their labor. The big job of running the Hutch-fest of 1995 by all the workers was a success!
Doris welcomes your comments and can be reached at [email protected]
