The medallion hunt

By Stanley Musielewicz of Little Falls

Medallion hunts have been around for a lot of years now. They seem to be the thing to do, for fairs and festivals. They add an extra layer of excitement to the event, and may even add to the overall participation.

The hunts seem to be relatively easy to set up and execute. One honest and trustworthy event official is entrusted with hiding the medallion. They are the only person who knows the location of the treasured item. Then they write up a set of clues as to its location.

The clues are revealed once a day, and they start out very general, almost to the point of being ambiguous. They get more and more specific as the hunt goes on, but fall short of saying the exact location of the medallion. The idea is to get people to look, to get them excited about the event, to yearn to find that medallion.

Finding the medallion results in some fame, usually a picture and story in the local paper. And it also includes some fortune, as turning in the medallion typically results in a cash prize. No one gets rich by finding the medallion, but it pays out enough to make a person really want to find it.

It was decades ago, at our local county fair in west central Minnesota, that I participated in the medallion hunt. That was not my main purpose for going to the fair. I had no expectation that I would find the treasure. I just like county fairs, and seeing things at a fair that I don’t get to see, except for that one time of the year.

As I went past the fair office, I noticed that the clues to the location of the medallion were posted. That means, that the medallion had not yet been found; the prize money was still unclaimed; fame and fortune were still up for grabs.

I looked over the clues to the location of the medallion, but did not give it too much thought at that time. I just gave them a good looking over, then went on my way through the fairgrounds to enjoy the sights, the sounds, and excitement of another county fair. There were 4-H projects, animals, commercial booths, vegetables, art projects, fun and games, and rides on the midway.

As I made my way around the fairgrounds, the clues kept running through my mind. Toward the north end of the fairgrounds, the buildings and exhibits ended, and there were very few people wandering around as well. I was walking past a semi-trailer parked there off to the side of things, and it dawned on me that the last of the clues indicated that this trailer might be the hiding place of the treasured medallion.

I bent over to take a look. And there, on the frame of that semi-trailer, safe and sound, polished and round, shining and now found, was the medallion. I smiled to myself, at my good fortune. Then I stood up, and pondered the situation. I was happy I’d found the medallion, but I was not thrilled, overjoyed, or giddy with excitement. I was just happy; a plain, old, adult, happy.

For some reason that I cannot remember, my teenage daughters were not with me at the fair that day. I had gone alone, to look around and enjoy the event. They would have gotten a big thrill out of finding the medallion, but they missed out. (And too, I never told them what happened to me at the fair that day. They are only now, by reading this prose, finding out what they missed out on. But since they are now adults with children, they probably understand, and probably won’t hold it against me.)

I thought to myself, as I contemplated claiming and turning in the medallion – now wouldn’t some little kid get a thrill out of finding the medallion? Wouldn’t it just make their day? Wouldn’t it be something they would remember forever? It only took me a moment to devised a plan, a plan to pass the thrill of discovering the medallion on to some little kid.

I knew a lot of people from the community, through the school, church, work, neighbors, and business contacts. I knew many of my daughters’ classmates and friends, and I also knew some of their younger siblings. I figured I could go back into the main part of the fairgrounds, and just see who I ran into that I knew. Perhaps one of my daughters’ classmates with younger siblings would be there with their family. I could greet them, and strike up a conversation, just to see what they were really interested in at the fair.

If the conversation went the right way, I could bring up the subject of the medallion. I could pump up the youngsters with the thought of finding the treasure, and the fame and fortune it would bring. If that worked, with a wink and a nod to the parents, I could suggest that we go on a medallion hunt. We could start by going to check out the clues, posted at the fair office.

Then the fun would really start. And with another wink and a nod, we could eventually wander over to the semi-trailer, and I could get the children to look in the right spot. I couldn’t wait to see the thrill on their face.

I smiled to myself, with a smile as big as I’d had when I found the medallion. What fun it would be to lead some little kid, some family, into finding that medallion. So, I headed back toward the main part of the fairgrounds, ready to execute my plan.

I’d taken maybe 10 steps away from the semi-trailer, when I heard a squeal of delight behind me. I spun around to see a couple of, maybe 11-year-old boys, jumping up and down for joy. They had just discovered the hiding place of the medallion. Their huge smiles and the look of delight on their faces were priceless.

I smiled to myself and thought, “well, problem solved,” That was easy, and almost the way I’d planned it. The boys were ten times more thrilled at finding the medallion than I had been. The prize money meant way more to them than it did to me.

I was so happy for them, and I had the best time, watching their joyful display. They were giving me a lesson; about joy, about exuberance, about excitement, about being thrilled. And I was having my own fun, just watching them. I was so glad that I had not spoiled their fun by claiming that medallion.

The boys glared at their prize, and danced around some more. Then they scampered past me, and headed back into the main part of the fairgrounds. They were off to show their prize to their friends, their parents, their family. And too, they would take their prize to the fair office, and claim the prize money for their discovery.

I realized that my plan had a rather significant flaw. I had not factored in that the medallion could be found as I was back in the fairgrounds, in my quest for some worthy, hand-picked recipient that I actually knew. It would have been rather embarrassing to lead some family on a wild goose chase. Next time, my plan will include slipping the medallion into my pocket. Then I could put it back into its hiding place, just in time for it to be found by some happy, thrilled little child.

And so it was, the county fair medallion was actually found twice that year. But only I knew that. It was found twice, but claimed once, by two exuberant 11-year-old boys, that I did not know. And I am willing to bet, that these two, now-young-men, still vividly remember the time that they found the medallion at the county fair. And too, I’ll bet when they think about it, it still brings a smile to their face. It still brings a smile to mine.