A Journal of Sorts

Monday, 5 April 1999

I need camping

When I was a child, I always had a spot in the woods to go hang out. Although my family lived in the suburbs of Dallas, there were always a few areas nearby where one could find a shade tree to sit under - or a creek breeding crawdads (crayfish?). I usually had a swimming hole somewhere -- of course, I was strictly forbidden to go there, but . . .

When I came of driving age, Teresa and I made regular excursions to the country. (I had kids before I was old enough to drive.) I called it camping, but what we would do was throw some bedding in the car, put some food and drink in an ice chest and pick a direction. We'd sleep out under the stars at night, or in the Toyota if it rained. Our days were spent exploring the woods or hills or fields that looked interesting and we started the family treasure and adventure traditions. Exploring anything is now an adventure. If you find something and keep it, an old hinge, a rock, a flower -- it is a treasure.

Camping with tents in campgrounds evolved when Teresa and I started including our husbands. I nagged and nagged Ed about camping -- for years. Finally, he agreed. "Alright! I'll go this one time but don't you ever ask me to go again!" We went out and bought tents and sleeping bags and lanterns and various other gadgets and left for our adventure with the husbands. Teresa and I were both pregnant and Daniel was a baby (already a veteran camper, though).

We learned, on that trip, that all it takes to make a man enjoy camping is to give them a lot of things to play with. We had a difficult time getting them to take walks or climb trees with us, but they took readily to starting the campfires, trenching and staking the tents, fiddling with the lanterns and coleman stove and gathering firewood.

That trip was a resounding success. I didn't have to ask Ed to go again. We went camping every weekend and vacation after that. Occasionally, we would find a good spot within a few hours of town and commute to work from the river for a week or so.

I have mixed feelings about the comforts of camping. It was all so much easier without all the setting up and breaking camp stuff. When Ed and I divorced, I continued with the tent camping and the campgrounds with running water because it worked out better with all the boys along. All of them (except Alex because her dad won't let me take her) were camping before they were eating solid food. Now, the boys are older, three of them are teenagers. Camping with Grandma is losing some of its magic for them.

Perhaps I'll get to transition back to quiet times with the birds, butterflies, my journal, and wildflowers instead of fishing and swimming and hiking. I think I'll like that. But I think I'll keep the tent.