The other evening, my husband and I took the munchkins to the park. A few kids were already scaling the playground equipment and digging around in the mulch. For the most part, the parents hovered nearby… but there are always exceptions. One parent dropped off his hellions and wandered across the soccer fields with his hands stuffed in his sweatshirt pockets–disappearing from view.

There is nothing more infuriating than parents who abandon their misbehaving children at the playground for everyone else to deal with… especially, when those misbehaving children have a massive dump in their pants and smell horribly ungodly whenever they run in front of the swing.

Playground etiquette aside, I decided to swing the detector a few times while my husband watched the kids. I retrieved the AT Pro from the trunk of my Subaru Forester where all my detecting accessories are neatly organized. I grabbed my detector, slung my Vera Bradley satchel over my shoulder, and headed towards the stream. (Yes, I use a Vera Bradley to organize my tools and discoveries. I would rather wear floral print over camo, any day.)

Of course, my little ones followed me to the edge of the water. They were not too pleased with being told to keep out of the stream, but my husband was able to keep them mostly dry.

I fired up my detector and started swinging the coil. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my husband shaking his head. Then he tells me, “You look like such a doofus right now.” Well, gee whiz. Thanks, Honey. I admit, his comment made me feel little self-conscious… but I got over it by the time I knelt to dig my first plug. I love this hobby and I will continue to love this hobby… even while looking like a doofus.

You have to understand that–for me–not caring that I look like a doofus is an accomplishment of epic proportions. In my teenage years, I was afraid to eat in public and participate in gym class. During lunch period, I would sit in the guidance office with my homework. In gym class, I would hide in the equipment room on the stationary bike while everyone else played in the pool. I was a weirdo, but that was ten years ago. I like to think I’ve grown into a functioning adult who can raise two kids, manage a household, pay the bills.. and cope with being a doofus.

I get called a doofus a lot because of my chosen hobby–not verbally but in the way people look at me. I know, YOU know what I mean. People look at us a little funny when we’re swinging our detector. But I think the public has this weirdo perception of us.

In trying to understand that perception, I asked my buddies at Stealth Diggers what they thought. Their first response was, “Live Free or Die.” Their second response shed some insight on what the hobby WAS compared to what the hobby is NOW.

The hobby is growing, most likely because of television. I’ve said it before and I will say it again. “When they envision a metal detecting hobbyists, they envision some retiree in his early sixties sweeping the beach for spare change and discarded tin-foil.” But that was then and this is now.

Across the world, metal detecting hobbyists are making epic discoveries–they are recovering history one relic at a time. I’m confident that the majority of these aspiring historians are not wearing speedos and a newsboy cap. My point is that the hobby is evolving.  I hope there comes a day when I’m not given the dreaded doofus-stare and the public can accept me for the relic recoverist that I am.