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| Trees? Please? |
A wall of old camping gear stares at me every time
I do laundry. Covered with dust, it
reminds me of our very last camp out--a sad and memorable event.
Our church planned a big camp out, starting Friday
night to Sunday morning, with a big potluck on Saturday evening. One of the church ladies had a brochure on a
nearby camp site, which showed towering trees, people playing volley ball, kids
swimming, etc. It looked marvelous.
Talk about untruth-in-advertising. After checking in, we went to our assigned
spot. Where were the trees? Gone, all gone. In their places stood spindly plantings. The pool? Drained for repairs. The volley ball court? About ¼ mile, at the
far stretch of camp.
The saddest thing of all was the sewage back-up in
the only shower and toilet facilities. Four toilets, each backed up, with
toilet paper pieces covering the floor. Fortunately the campgrounds were
spotted with Spanky’s Porta-Potties, which were nearly full.
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Saturday night was about 90° and at dusk, the air
started to cool. We were each assigned
food to bring, which for us was salad thankfully.
The number of entrees was thin, but some cheerful
church lady brought a huge cauldron of her special recipe chicken stew. “You’ll just love this!” she exclaimed as she
ladled it out. My husband accepted his portion, while I passed it by, and
headed to the tray of cold cuts.
Most of the campers settled into their tents,
while others stayed up around the campfire, singing praise hymns, without ceasing.
Around 10 pm, my husband leaped up and ran out; I
could hear him retching in the brush. There were so many others doing the same. He returned
to the tent, saying “We’re leaving. Now.”
With Spanky’s Porta-Potties by now full to the brim, there were no other viable
options where to vomit or allow one to relieve one’s bowels.
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| Serving the needs of the public |
We gathered or grabbed valuables, leaving the tent
standing, and raced to our home, about thirty miles away. It was a rough night.
My husband returned early the next morning to pack
up the tent and sleeping bags. He said
many others had done to same.
Since then, we have converted from roughing it to
staying in a motel. Things change; the memories remain.
