SERIOUS SUNDAY
It has been quiet on the Que Family front. We have been staying out of trouble. And it's not that we necessarily WANT to stay out of trouble. We just don't have the financial backing to get INTO said trouble. With the current state of the economy, a lot of us find ourselves standing on the dock and the ship has long since set sail. Some have been able to move on. Some are still waiting for the ship to come back. Unfortunately, that ship will not be returning for most of us.
With everything going on, I had to ask myself.... W.W.D.D. (What Would Daddy Do?) I know that's a take on What Would Jesus Do? I didn't meant to steal it. (I promise!) But I had to take a new approach to the current set of circumstances. To be honest, I'm sure I could use Jesus' principles and words to help in these times since the words are timeless. But sometimes it's a little hard to relate to someone who wasn't married, didn't have kids (especially little ones), didn't have a mortgage, never made a car payment, didn't have student loans, still lived with his mother even in his 30s, and whose father COULD have bailed him out of any financial difficulty if it had ever become necessary.
Sure, he had his own share of problems. And none of them would make me want to change positions with him. But this isn't a life comparison. It's just a statement to show that, at this moment, I'm looking for someone to get an idea from who has been "there" and done "that". I love you, Jesus. You are the savior for my soul. But right now I'm going to look up to someone else for my particular set of problems... my father.
When I was younger, my family was very poor. So my father had a lot of the been "theres" and done "thats". But there is one thing that really stands out to me. When we were going through a particularly difficult time I didn't see my father that much for a few years. It wasn't because he was a deadbeat dad. It wasn't because he left all of his responsibilities. It wasn't because he didn't want to be there for his family during the tough time. It was exactly the opposite. My father took a second job to help pull us out of the trouble we found ourselves in. He bit the bullet for a couple of years and did what he thought was best for the family. That's where I am right now.
Living in a sea of debt and not being able to swim has created more than its share of issues. So I decided to tackle this issue as my father would. Starting this week I will have two employers. Honestly, it's going to suck pretty bad! But you won't hear me complain much about it here. As bad as it is, I will still feel blessed to have two jobs when a lot of Americans don't even have one.
But even with that understanding there is a fair amount of sucky things I will have to accept for a while. This decision will mean that I will be spending less time with my wife and kids. So, I will miss all of the gymnastics meets. I will miss all of the school meetings. I will miss all of the family dinners at the table. I will miss out on seeing my kids (especially the little ones) learn new things (my wife MUST record some of those). I will miss the putting the kids to bed at night. I will miss sleep. (That one won't be too bad though. The kids don't let us sleep as it is.) And I will miss taking the kids to see the grandparents.
There are a lot of other things I will miss but I don't have the time to list them all. This sacrifice now is to help insure a better future for my family. When you are in debt you don't get to enjoy all of those things I mentioned as much anyway. It's something you are always thinking about. Money (or lack there of) always makes its way into every aspect of your life.
So, this is how I plan to take control of the situation. This is where our family starts to get some of its freedom back. With every debt gone comes another opportunity to enjoy all of the other things that make life worth living.
I would tell everyone to pray for me because this will be a tough journey. But honestly, I would much rather you pray for my wife. I may be taking another job but she is the one who is making the real sacrifice. She has spend more time with our 3 crazy kids without me as a buffer. (I really didn't do much anyway so nothing will change.)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Man-Camp 2010 - The Solitary Exodus (The Final Chapter)
So, it was the morning of my departure. I slept surprisingly well considering the "root" problem I dealt with the previous night. The foam pad helped but the ROOT would not be denied. It had an agenda and it wasn't going to let a little padding stand in its way. Personally, I also believe it knew I was leaving that next morning and that made it all clingy. You know how roots are.
I rose to the COLD morning air. The previous frost warnings almost proved to be accurate. In my professional, meteorological opinion, I would guess the temperature was about 1 degree ABOVE hell freezing over. Which is warmer than I had expected it to be. So... bonus. But the area wasn't going to warm up simply because I was starting MY day so I got up and started getting ready. I was even able to skip the first step in the old man morning ritual because my bladder was COMPLETELY empty from the night before.
The Scoutmaster had gotten up a little bit before I did because he had a dying fire to tend to. He stayed true to his goal and only had to light the fire once when we arrived. There was also firewood leftover from yesterday's episode of "Who Wants to Be a Lumberjack?" So with his skills and the available resources he was able to revive a weak pile of embers to the mighty inferno it once was not even 6 hours earlier. I let him finish that before I got out of the cold tent though. In spite of popular belief, I'm not an idiot.
The campsite also began to wake up with the fire. It didn't take long for the sound of the burning wood to change the site from a freezing cold ghost town to a slightly warmer (yet still freezing cold) ant farm. People started moving around and that signaled the beginning of the day.
I was leaving out that day but before I got everything together I ate breakfast. The morning's breakfast was an MRE (Meal, Ready-to-Eat) like all of our meals. Mine in particular was Meatballs in Tomato Sauce. (I'm not completely sure on that fact. All I know is that it was red and had meat in it. So really it could have been any one of 50 types of MREs. But I won't complain because it was a LOT easier to carry those down the mountain than the bologna and hot dogs we tried to carry down on the trip before this one. That is a 10-Part series! I will spare you all that one).
MREs are field rations provided by the US military for its service members who are in combat or are in other field conditions where regular food is not available. So I was a little concerned to see that mine contained ingredients to make a French Vanilla Cappuccino. What??? Not that I'm opposed to an MRE having French Vanilla Cappuccino. I just can't understand a combat situation where someone once said, "You know what would make this lovely meal complete? ...French Vanilla Cappuccino. Now, hand me my rifle. The enemy is advancing."
After eating my breakfast (minus the Cappuccino) I got my gear ready for the trek up the mountain. My pack was MUCH lighter now that the MREs were gone. I did pack one with me so that it would be one less the others needed to worry about when they left the following day. (I left a day earlier than the others because I was working on a business idea that needed my attention. If we get to go next year, I will make sure I get to stay the whole time. I wouldn't want that root to miss my back too much.)
Because it was cold I was originally going to wait until it was closer to noon leave. But I knew that it was going to be a tough 4-mile hike up the mountain so I would get plenty of warmth simply from the movement. With that, I put on my pack, retrieved my number 2 pencil and (though I made fun of it) asked if I could keep the little knife for protection on the hike. I was given the security clearance necessary to possess such a powerful weapon. (They don't just let ANYONE carry those things!) My friends had also been debating for 2 days on whether to walk up with me so I wouldn't go alone but I finally convinced them I would be fine. (I have awesome friends!) They reluctantly and with extreme reservation agreed. (See?) And the journey alone began with a few appropriately placed fist bumps, hand shakes, hugs (yes, hugs) and simple good byes. I would have left them with an even more appropriately placed gas-plosion but I really had to go to the bathroom at this point. So in the end (pun intended) the joke would have been on me. Literally...
The hike up the mountain lasted about 2 hours. It was a lot easier than expected because my pack was MUCH lighter on the way out because the food was eaten. But still... 2 hours is a long time to be walking alone on a mountain trail. The entire hike I saw 3 people. There was a guys hiking down alone (idiot) and a couple who were going to be out just for the day (I assume) because they didn't even have packs. So that left a lot of time to think. Especially random thoughts like...
1. I noticed that there are a lot of places in the Smoky Mountains that may received one direct ray of sunlight a year. And yet, the mountain chain is teeming with vegetation. That made me think... People should be like that as well. Even if life dumps on us every day of the year except one, we should find a way to use that one day to give us the strength to last us until the next "one" day.
2. Which hand should I use to hold the walking stick and which hand for the knife? If I were to get attacked by a pack of Ninja Bunnies, which weapon configuration would be most beneficial. (If you have seen "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" you know this is a distinct possibility. If you haven't, you need to. But I will warn you it IS a cult classic. So you will immediately LOVE it or HATE every minute of it. There is no middle.)
3. I wonder how many times this theory has been tested: If you and your friends are being chased by a bear, it doesn't matter if you are the fastest. You just have to make sure you are not the slowest.
4. Man... My wife would HATE this whole multi-day hiking/camping thing.
5. Half way up the mountain I couldn't help but think to myself, "You know what would make this lovely hike complete??? ... French Vanilla Cappuccino."
6. In the movie Star Wars, the bad guys were always trying to "force" people over to the Dark Side. When this tactic stopped working, why didn't the PR department shift gears and start offering something different like free food or massages for the first 1000 people or even gift cards? I'm mean, they owned everything at that point. Surely, money wouldn't have been a problem. They could have even done the old bait-and-switch like a lot of the multi-level marketing businesses do. They would offer you a trip to some remote tropical planet if you just sat and listened to a 1hr presentation showing all of the benefits of the Dark Side.
7. If the federal government says they have my best interest at heart, then why don't they personally ask me what I think/feel/want so they will at least know what my best interests are?
8. This trip has truly changed me but I STILL hate shopping.... and cats... and stuffed toys with HUGE eyes.
9. I wonder if the people who named the "Titanic" had named the ship "I will never mock GOD and his awesome power whether I believe in divinity or not" would the ship still be around today.
10. I also thought about the fact that each step I moved forward took me one more step away from my friends. With each step up the mountain, if something happened, I was THAT much farther away from those who do anything to help me. With each step I increased my chances of falling to serious injury or even death. With each step I was leaving behind life-long friends. And with life's uncertainties, there was a chance I would never see them again.
But it is all about perspective. Because...
With each step I was one step closer to seeing my kids' smiles. Each step brought me closer to seeing my beautiful wife. Each step up the mountain was filling my heart with joy knowing I'm that much closer to hearing the sounds of my children's laughter. With each step I could almost feel my lovely wife's touch. Each step led me one step closer to... home.
All in all, the camping experience is one that I will enjoy year after year. But to be honest, the best part of being away from all of the bad stuff about life for a few days is the coming home to all of the good stuff. Without my family in my life it really wouldn't really be living. I would just be going through the motions of life.
It felt good to be home.
I rose to the COLD morning air. The previous frost warnings almost proved to be accurate. In my professional, meteorological opinion, I would guess the temperature was about 1 degree ABOVE hell freezing over. Which is warmer than I had expected it to be. So... bonus. But the area wasn't going to warm up simply because I was starting MY day so I got up and started getting ready. I was even able to skip the first step in the old man morning ritual because my bladder was COMPLETELY empty from the night before.
The Scoutmaster had gotten up a little bit before I did because he had a dying fire to tend to. He stayed true to his goal and only had to light the fire once when we arrived. There was also firewood leftover from yesterday's episode of "Who Wants to Be a Lumberjack?" So with his skills and the available resources he was able to revive a weak pile of embers to the mighty inferno it once was not even 6 hours earlier. I let him finish that before I got out of the cold tent though. In spite of popular belief, I'm not an idiot.
The campsite also began to wake up with the fire. It didn't take long for the sound of the burning wood to change the site from a freezing cold ghost town to a slightly warmer (yet still freezing cold) ant farm. People started moving around and that signaled the beginning of the day.
I was leaving out that day but before I got everything together I ate breakfast. The morning's breakfast was an MRE (Meal, Ready-to-Eat) like all of our meals. Mine in particular was Meatballs in Tomato Sauce. (I'm not completely sure on that fact. All I know is that it was red and had meat in it. So really it could have been any one of 50 types of MREs. But I won't complain because it was a LOT easier to carry those down the mountain than the bologna and hot dogs we tried to carry down on the trip before this one. That is a 10-Part series! I will spare you all that one).
MREs are field rations provided by the US military for its service members who are in combat or are in other field conditions where regular food is not available. So I was a little concerned to see that mine contained ingredients to make a French Vanilla Cappuccino. What??? Not that I'm opposed to an MRE having French Vanilla Cappuccino. I just can't understand a combat situation where someone once said, "You know what would make this lovely meal complete? ...French Vanilla Cappuccino. Now, hand me my rifle. The enemy is advancing."
After eating my breakfast (minus the Cappuccino) I got my gear ready for the trek up the mountain. My pack was MUCH lighter now that the MREs were gone. I did pack one with me so that it would be one less the others needed to worry about when they left the following day. (I left a day earlier than the others because I was working on a business idea that needed my attention. If we get to go next year, I will make sure I get to stay the whole time. I wouldn't want that root to miss my back too much.)
Because it was cold I was originally going to wait until it was closer to noon leave. But I knew that it was going to be a tough 4-mile hike up the mountain so I would get plenty of warmth simply from the movement. With that, I put on my pack, retrieved my number 2 pencil and (though I made fun of it) asked if I could keep the little knife for protection on the hike. I was given the security clearance necessary to possess such a powerful weapon. (They don't just let ANYONE carry those things!) My friends had also been debating for 2 days on whether to walk up with me so I wouldn't go alone but I finally convinced them I would be fine. (I have awesome friends!) They reluctantly and with extreme reservation agreed. (See?) And the journey alone began with a few appropriately placed fist bumps, hand shakes, hugs (yes, hugs) and simple good byes. I would have left them with an even more appropriately placed gas-plosion but I really had to go to the bathroom at this point. So in the end (pun intended) the joke would have been on me. Literally...
The hike up the mountain lasted about 2 hours. It was a lot easier than expected because my pack was MUCH lighter on the way out because the food was eaten. But still... 2 hours is a long time to be walking alone on a mountain trail. The entire hike I saw 3 people. There was a guys hiking down alone (idiot) and a couple who were going to be out just for the day (I assume) because they didn't even have packs. So that left a lot of time to think. Especially random thoughts like...
1. I noticed that there are a lot of places in the Smoky Mountains that may received one direct ray of sunlight a year. And yet, the mountain chain is teeming with vegetation. That made me think... People should be like that as well. Even if life dumps on us every day of the year except one, we should find a way to use that one day to give us the strength to last us until the next "one" day.
2. Which hand should I use to hold the walking stick and which hand for the knife? If I were to get attacked by a pack of Ninja Bunnies, which weapon configuration would be most beneficial. (If you have seen "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" you know this is a distinct possibility. If you haven't, you need to. But I will warn you it IS a cult classic. So you will immediately LOVE it or HATE every minute of it. There is no middle.)
3. I wonder how many times this theory has been tested: If you and your friends are being chased by a bear, it doesn't matter if you are the fastest. You just have to make sure you are not the slowest.
4. Man... My wife would HATE this whole multi-day hiking/camping thing.
5. Half way up the mountain I couldn't help but think to myself, "You know what would make this lovely hike complete??? ... French Vanilla Cappuccino."
6. In the movie Star Wars, the bad guys were always trying to "force" people over to the Dark Side. When this tactic stopped working, why didn't the PR department shift gears and start offering something different like free food or massages for the first 1000 people or even gift cards? I'm mean, they owned everything at that point. Surely, money wouldn't have been a problem. They could have even done the old bait-and-switch like a lot of the multi-level marketing businesses do. They would offer you a trip to some remote tropical planet if you just sat and listened to a 1hr presentation showing all of the benefits of the Dark Side.
7. If the federal government says they have my best interest at heart, then why don't they personally ask me what I think/feel/want so they will at least know what my best interests are?
8. This trip has truly changed me but I STILL hate shopping.... and cats... and stuffed toys with HUGE eyes.
9. I wonder if the people who named the "Titanic" had named the ship "I will never mock GOD and his awesome power whether I believe in divinity or not" would the ship still be around today.
10. I also thought about the fact that each step I moved forward took me one more step away from my friends. With each step up the mountain, if something happened, I was THAT much farther away from those who do anything to help me. With each step I increased my chances of falling to serious injury or even death. With each step I was leaving behind life-long friends. And with life's uncertainties, there was a chance I would never see them again.
But it is all about perspective. Because...
With each step I was one step closer to seeing my kids' smiles. Each step brought me closer to seeing my beautiful wife. Each step up the mountain was filling my heart with joy knowing I'm that much closer to hearing the sounds of my children's laughter. With each step I could almost feel my lovely wife's touch. Each step led me one step closer to... home.
All in all, the camping experience is one that I will enjoy year after year. But to be honest, the best part of being away from all of the bad stuff about life for a few days is the coming home to all of the good stuff. Without my family in my life it really wouldn't really be living. I would just be going through the motions of life.
It felt good to be home.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Man-Camp 2010 - The OTHER Half-Day of Nature (Part 4)
What??? Are you still here reading about our boring camping trip? I would stop writing about it but I'm in too deep now. I have to finish! So just sit back and enjoy part 4 of 5.
When we last left our heroes...
We decided to go hiking. We had just hiked the day before so it probably wasn't the greatest of ideas. But we were in the wilderness... what else was there left to do? We had firewood and our clothes were drying. So we decided to hike farther down the trail to see what else the mountains had to offer.
Since we were in the valley between two mountains, the trail generally followed a mountain stream about 50ft away. A very COLD mountain stream. I remember it being cold the last time we were there because we all bathed in it's Arctic frostiness (not at the same time, mind you). It was Spring we when made the trip last time but I promise the water could have held an iceberg or two if it had been deep enough. So there would be no stream bathing on this trip. I would be carrying this manly musk back home with me. And that's the way it should be!
The other two people (the Scoutmaster and the Dr.) who were veterans on this trip wanted to find a little water hole they had found before. They remembered how cold it was but they didn't care because there was a deep pool of water to swim in and a little waterfall to accent the scene. It all sounded fine and dandy but I wasn't going to get in it! One of my friends wondered why. So, I told him.
You won't hear me do this a lot but I'm going to make a racial (NOT racist) statement here. I don't know a lot of black people who enjoy water. And I'm going to go out on a limb and say YOU (as in ANYONE reading this) don't either. Sure, you might know one or two but they are about as rare as the elusive jackalope. I'm going to let you think on that one for a moment. Now, to add to the thinking process, how many black people do you see at the beach? THEN think to yourself... How many of those at the beach do you actually see in the water? I'm going to guess (with confidence) that you won't find too many. Years ago there was a HUGE argument about the TV show Baywatch (I told you YEARS ago) not having many black people represented. People were calling the show racist (NOT racial). Personally, I think they were being pretty accurate.
Racial (NOT racist) statement part two: You don't see a lot of black people in places where it's cold. Do we need to take a break so you can think about this one too? We are just not fond of cold ANYTHING (minus drinks). When you watch the Summer Olympics we are everywhere. When you watch the WINTER Olympics we are not even at the indoor events. We don't ski. We don't play hockey. We don't ice skate. And I will repeat this... You might find your one or two but you will not find a number that's even statistically recognizable. I don't know why but that's just the case.
Now combine the two previous paragraphs and tell me if you have ever seen a black member of the Polar Bear Club. Just the thought of that BLOWS my mind! I can't imaging perfectly sane people WANTING to strip down to almost nothing in subfreezing weather and jumping into a pool of water that's probably colder than the subfreezing air. I can't even wrap my brain around that one. I'm sure there is an exception but I have looked at photo after photo and have yet to find a single one. (This might be a good challenge to my readers. If you have a pic of a black Polar Bear Club member, send it to me. I would love to see it just so I can mark it off of my bucket list.)
And THAT'S why I didn't care too much about the swimming hole. It wasn't even something I was going to look back on years later and go, "Man, I wish I had risked hypothermia and drowning just so I can say I did it." But I'm not a party pooper so I was on the lookout for it as well while we were making out way down the trail.
I'm not sure how far we went (but it wasn't even a mile) when the Scoutmaster thought he saw it. So he went to investigate. And by investigate I mean he cut through the overgrowth to get to the stream and starting making his way back upstream. I think we all learned a lesson that day. We learned that is a lot has changed since we were here during our late teens. After going from rock to rock (then eventually just walking in the water itself) he realized he couldn't find the original spot. Too much had changed. But, of course, he wasn't going to let that stop him. So he and the Dr. found a different spot. And all was well... until the next trip when they try to find this NEW spot again.
I decided to make my way back to camp. So did the Rookie. We made it back and enjoyed the last few minutes of direct sunlight left in the day. The swimming hole adventure didn't last as long as I had expected it to so the other two were back at camp not too much longer after that. It was definitely lunchtime.
This is also when we got to what the camp was really about. As we ate MREs (the same food that the fine soldiers of the US military enjoy) we finally took a few minutes to just talk. We talked about life. We talked about politics. We talking about the state of the US. We even talked about time travel and physics (that conversation didn't last long). We talking about where our lives are and how different it was the last time we were in the exact same spot. We talked about the Butterfly Effect. We talked about religion. We talked a little about everything and a lot about nothing. That was easily my favorite part of the whole trip. There were a lot of funny and crazy things that went on in the VERY short time I was there but those conversations were the most memorable. If life sees to it that we NEVER get to go back again, I will at least have that moment to keep me company.
Everything was going great until people started showing up. Apparently, everyone got the memo that I was going to be at that particular campsite and wanted to come and see if the rumors were true. Of course, THAT wasn't the case (I don't think) but people did start showing up. As stated in an earlier camping post of this trip, we saw very few people the last time. We also didn't have to share the area the entire trip. Now, already, on this trip we had another person sharing the area (the Fisherman) and other people were coming through OUR campsite. We didn't mind the Fisherman being there because he was.. well... out fishing pretty much the whole time. But we had a few smaller groups of people come through first looking for a good campsite. We directed them away. Then a larger group came through looking for the same thing. We gave ALL of them the "this is OURS, go get your own" look. And they all obliged. That was until the LAST group showed up. I can't remember what group they were with (mainly because I didn't speak that much to them) but they decided to make our cramped campsite even crampier. (For some reason, spell checker didn't like crampier. Oh, well.)
We didn't know this new group of people so we didn't trust them either. (That meant all of us kept our weapons of choice close just in case. My little knife was easy to conceal.) We also noticed that they were ill prepared to camp. They were fine for hiking but not for camping. This is especially true since there was a frost warning in the area for that night. I kinda felt bad for them and so did the Scoutmaster. So before going to bed, he made sure that the fire was a large, good one and that they had plenty of chopped wood ready in case they needed it.
We decided before we went to bed that we would move the tent a little. I spearheaded this movement because through the course of the day I found out that not EVERYONE was sleeping with a root in their side. So we moved the tent and changed the sleeping arrangement. I really felt good about the new move until it was time to go to bed. I put my sleeping bag in it's new spot. I placed my trusty knife next to where my head would be for quick access. (You can't trust those squirrels. Every good camper knows that!) I get in my sleeping bag and there it was. Mr. Root's cousin. ANOTHER FREAKIN' ROOT!!!! You've got to be kidding me! Was this thing following me? I moved my bag around to try to find the best spot. But even the BEST spot left me with a root press in my back. I just had to make do.
There was a problem with this night's making do with the root. I don't even know if this is medically possible but I'm blaming it on THAT root even if it's not! But for some reason, that root in my back kept making me have to go pee. And I'm not talking every 30 minutes to an hour. I'm talking like 5-10 minute intervals. There were several problems with that. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't see. The tent was dark and I was on the side away from the entrance. So that meant every 5-10 minutes I was getting out of my WARM sleeping bag, putting on my shoes, stumbling over everyone, opening the tent (letting in MORE cold air and making me have to pee worse), making my way down a trail (blind and in pitch darkness), peeing, making my way back (under the same conditions), opening the tent again (more cold air), stumbling over everyone, taking my shoes off, getting back into a (NOW) cold sleeping bag, and finally snuggling up to my favorite ROOT in the whole wide world. I don't know how many times it happened as I stopped counting at 42,007.
I'm sure this ritual was annoying everyone but no one said anything. The Scoutmaster DID finally offer me a foam padding to go under my sleeping bag. It was something short of turning water into wine (probably not a good analogy for someone who was peeing a lot). But it worked!!! I didn't have go pee after that. Granted, it could have been the fact that there was ZERO water left in my system after the many, MANY trips to the bark covered port-o-potty. But, as I said before, I'm blaming it on the the root.
I would like to say that things ended there. We were in the tent. It was dark. It was cold. It was time to sleep. But someone decided to put the final exclamation point on the evening. Someone... And I'm not naming any names because that would be RUDE. Isn't that right, Scoutmaster??? Someone decided that the night wasn't complete until someone sounded the evening tuba. Someone (Scoutmaster) ripped on of the loudest, most explosive farts to finish the day off. Does everyone remember that we were in a closed tent to keep as much of the cold out? Nothing says camping like trying to decide of you want to freeze to death or die a painful death from paralyzing gas of a butt bomb. The rest of us zipped up our sleeping bags over our heads and prayed for mercy. Sometimes that's your only option. It did, however, insure that if someone or something was going to attack the campsite that night we were protected by an invisible field of toxic gas. Sorry other campers... you have to get your own!
That simple (yet hilariously disgusting) act also led me to believe that, though, there were a lot of things different on this trip from when we made it almost 20 years ago... some things were still the same.
Stay tuned for Part 5 and FINAL chapter of the Man-Camp 2010 Saga.
When we last left our heroes...
We decided to go hiking. We had just hiked the day before so it probably wasn't the greatest of ideas. But we were in the wilderness... what else was there left to do? We had firewood and our clothes were drying. So we decided to hike farther down the trail to see what else the mountains had to offer.
Since we were in the valley between two mountains, the trail generally followed a mountain stream about 50ft away. A very COLD mountain stream. I remember it being cold the last time we were there because we all bathed in it's Arctic frostiness (not at the same time, mind you). It was Spring we when made the trip last time but I promise the water could have held an iceberg or two if it had been deep enough. So there would be no stream bathing on this trip. I would be carrying this manly musk back home with me. And that's the way it should be!
The other two people (the Scoutmaster and the Dr.) who were veterans on this trip wanted to find a little water hole they had found before. They remembered how cold it was but they didn't care because there was a deep pool of water to swim in and a little waterfall to accent the scene. It all sounded fine and dandy but I wasn't going to get in it! One of my friends wondered why. So, I told him.
You won't hear me do this a lot but I'm going to make a racial (NOT racist) statement here. I don't know a lot of black people who enjoy water. And I'm going to go out on a limb and say YOU (as in ANYONE reading this) don't either. Sure, you might know one or two but they are about as rare as the elusive jackalope. I'm going to let you think on that one for a moment. Now, to add to the thinking process, how many black people do you see at the beach? THEN think to yourself... How many of those at the beach do you actually see in the water? I'm going to guess (with confidence) that you won't find too many. Years ago there was a HUGE argument about the TV show Baywatch (I told you YEARS ago) not having many black people represented. People were calling the show racist (NOT racial). Personally, I think they were being pretty accurate.
Racial (NOT racist) statement part two: You don't see a lot of black people in places where it's cold. Do we need to take a break so you can think about this one too? We are just not fond of cold ANYTHING (minus drinks). When you watch the Summer Olympics we are everywhere. When you watch the WINTER Olympics we are not even at the indoor events. We don't ski. We don't play hockey. We don't ice skate. And I will repeat this... You might find your one or two but you will not find a number that's even statistically recognizable. I don't know why but that's just the case.
Now combine the two previous paragraphs and tell me if you have ever seen a black member of the Polar Bear Club. Just the thought of that BLOWS my mind! I can't imaging perfectly sane people WANTING to strip down to almost nothing in subfreezing weather and jumping into a pool of water that's probably colder than the subfreezing air. I can't even wrap my brain around that one. I'm sure there is an exception but I have looked at photo after photo and have yet to find a single one. (This might be a good challenge to my readers. If you have a pic of a black Polar Bear Club member, send it to me. I would love to see it just so I can mark it off of my bucket list.)
And THAT'S why I didn't care too much about the swimming hole. It wasn't even something I was going to look back on years later and go, "Man, I wish I had risked hypothermia and drowning just so I can say I did it." But I'm not a party pooper so I was on the lookout for it as well while we were making out way down the trail.
I'm not sure how far we went (but it wasn't even a mile) when the Scoutmaster thought he saw it. So he went to investigate. And by investigate I mean he cut through the overgrowth to get to the stream and starting making his way back upstream. I think we all learned a lesson that day. We learned that is a lot has changed since we were here during our late teens. After going from rock to rock (then eventually just walking in the water itself) he realized he couldn't find the original spot. Too much had changed. But, of course, he wasn't going to let that stop him. So he and the Dr. found a different spot. And all was well... until the next trip when they try to find this NEW spot again.
I decided to make my way back to camp. So did the Rookie. We made it back and enjoyed the last few minutes of direct sunlight left in the day. The swimming hole adventure didn't last as long as I had expected it to so the other two were back at camp not too much longer after that. It was definitely lunchtime.
This is also when we got to what the camp was really about. As we ate MREs (the same food that the fine soldiers of the US military enjoy) we finally took a few minutes to just talk. We talked about life. We talked about politics. We talking about the state of the US. We even talked about time travel and physics (that conversation didn't last long). We talking about where our lives are and how different it was the last time we were in the exact same spot. We talked about the Butterfly Effect. We talked about religion. We talked a little about everything and a lot about nothing. That was easily my favorite part of the whole trip. There were a lot of funny and crazy things that went on in the VERY short time I was there but those conversations were the most memorable. If life sees to it that we NEVER get to go back again, I will at least have that moment to keep me company.
Everything was going great until people started showing up. Apparently, everyone got the memo that I was going to be at that particular campsite and wanted to come and see if the rumors were true. Of course, THAT wasn't the case (I don't think) but people did start showing up. As stated in an earlier camping post of this trip, we saw very few people the last time. We also didn't have to share the area the entire trip. Now, already, on this trip we had another person sharing the area (the Fisherman) and other people were coming through OUR campsite. We didn't mind the Fisherman being there because he was.. well... out fishing pretty much the whole time. But we had a few smaller groups of people come through first looking for a good campsite. We directed them away. Then a larger group came through looking for the same thing. We gave ALL of them the "this is OURS, go get your own" look. And they all obliged. That was until the LAST group showed up. I can't remember what group they were with (mainly because I didn't speak that much to them) but they decided to make our cramped campsite even crampier. (For some reason, spell checker didn't like crampier. Oh, well.)
We didn't know this new group of people so we didn't trust them either. (That meant all of us kept our weapons of choice close just in case. My little knife was easy to conceal.) We also noticed that they were ill prepared to camp. They were fine for hiking but not for camping. This is especially true since there was a frost warning in the area for that night. I kinda felt bad for them and so did the Scoutmaster. So before going to bed, he made sure that the fire was a large, good one and that they had plenty of chopped wood ready in case they needed it.
We decided before we went to bed that we would move the tent a little. I spearheaded this movement because through the course of the day I found out that not EVERYONE was sleeping with a root in their side. So we moved the tent and changed the sleeping arrangement. I really felt good about the new move until it was time to go to bed. I put my sleeping bag in it's new spot. I placed my trusty knife next to where my head would be for quick access. (You can't trust those squirrels. Every good camper knows that!) I get in my sleeping bag and there it was. Mr. Root's cousin. ANOTHER FREAKIN' ROOT!!!! You've got to be kidding me! Was this thing following me? I moved my bag around to try to find the best spot. But even the BEST spot left me with a root press in my back. I just had to make do.
There was a problem with this night's making do with the root. I don't even know if this is medically possible but I'm blaming it on THAT root even if it's not! But for some reason, that root in my back kept making me have to go pee. And I'm not talking every 30 minutes to an hour. I'm talking like 5-10 minute intervals. There were several problems with that. I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't see. The tent was dark and I was on the side away from the entrance. So that meant every 5-10 minutes I was getting out of my WARM sleeping bag, putting on my shoes, stumbling over everyone, opening the tent (letting in MORE cold air and making me have to pee worse), making my way down a trail (blind and in pitch darkness), peeing, making my way back (under the same conditions), opening the tent again (more cold air), stumbling over everyone, taking my shoes off, getting back into a (NOW) cold sleeping bag, and finally snuggling up to my favorite ROOT in the whole wide world. I don't know how many times it happened as I stopped counting at 42,007.
I'm sure this ritual was annoying everyone but no one said anything. The Scoutmaster DID finally offer me a foam padding to go under my sleeping bag. It was something short of turning water into wine (probably not a good analogy for someone who was peeing a lot). But it worked!!! I didn't have go pee after that. Granted, it could have been the fact that there was ZERO water left in my system after the many, MANY trips to the bark covered port-o-potty. But, as I said before, I'm blaming it on the the root.
I would like to say that things ended there. We were in the tent. It was dark. It was cold. It was time to sleep. But someone decided to put the final exclamation point on the evening. Someone... And I'm not naming any names because that would be RUDE. Isn't that right, Scoutmaster??? Someone decided that the night wasn't complete until someone sounded the evening tuba. Someone (Scoutmaster) ripped on of the loudest, most explosive farts to finish the day off. Does everyone remember that we were in a closed tent to keep as much of the cold out? Nothing says camping like trying to decide of you want to freeze to death or die a painful death from paralyzing gas of a butt bomb. The rest of us zipped up our sleeping bags over our heads and prayed for mercy. Sometimes that's your only option. It did, however, insure that if someone or something was going to attack the campsite that night we were protected by an invisible field of toxic gas. Sorry other campers... you have to get your own!
That simple (yet hilariously disgusting) act also led me to believe that, though, there were a lot of things different on this trip from when we made it almost 20 years ago... some things were still the same.
Stay tuned for Part 5 and FINAL chapter of the Man-Camp 2010 Saga.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Where Wisdom Fails
A few weeks ago a friend wrote historical account of King David and how his words had relevance to events of modern times. Today, I will be doing the same with King David's successor (his son), King Solomon. I must first warn you that this is NOT a biblical reference. This is a reference to a biblical figure. SO I don't want any email talking about how I'm changing the bible. If you want to read the ACTUAL account... read a bible. If you want to hear MY account... here it goes.
King Solomon was given the gift of Wisdom. He was wise beyond his years AND experience. There are other stories that tell of his wisdom and why he was considered a great King. But I want to focus on one in particular. It's the story of the 2 mothers and the baby.
King Solomon was busy doing kingly things when he was told that he needed to make a judgment call. He was told that this was a high profile case where the evidence needed to solve it was nonexistent. Not wanting to back down from a challenge, he decided to rule on the case. Plus, he was King so his words would be final. Also, figuring this was a great moment to gain some much needed exposure for his kingdom, he made sure the local media was summonsed and had a front-row seat to this interesting case.
Bailiff: All rise! Hear Ye, Hear Ye! The (currently) United State of Israel Court is now in session. The honorable Judge and King Solomon will be presiding over the case. (Queue the music: Lil Jon - Get Low. He was known for is wisdom but he was also known to get crunk every now and then!) You my now be seated.
King Solomon: Bring forth the plaintiff and the defendant.
Bailiff: I would love to, your Kingship, but I can tell which is which.
KS: What do you mean?
Bailiff: *sigh* Well, you'll see. Bring them both in.
At that point, 2 women walked into the courtroom and make their way to the Bailiff.
Bailiff: Place your hand on this stone tablet with the 10 Commandments etched into it and repeat after me. 'I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.' (The women repeat.)
KS: Great. Now will someone tell me why you are even here.
Woman 1: That woman took my baby!
Woman 2: I did NOT! You took my baby!
KS: Ladies, ladies! One at a time. Woman 1... Would you please tell your side of the story.
W1: Both of us had children at the same time. We were even friends until the other night when SHE (let the record show she is pointing at W2) rolled over and smothered her child in her sleep. I was sleeping soundly in my Sleep Number bed... my number is 20, BTW... when W2 came over and TOOK my baby. I didn't even know my baby was gone until the morning when I realized that I had woken up from the first good nights sleep that I've had since becoming a mother. Now, may I have my baby? Please!
KS: What say you W2?
W2: Well, the story she told was the truth. That is except for the fact that she took MY baby while I was sleeping on my Tempur-Pedic bed.
W1: I did NOT!!!
W2: You did too!
The two women began to fight as the gathering crowd starts chanting 'Solly! Solly! Solly!' Of course, the Bailiff breaks it up.
KS: Ladies, Ladies! I'm not going to warn you again. There will be no fighting in this courtroom! Now do either of you have any witnesses?
W1: No.
W2: No.
KS: *sarcastically* Great. OK. Where are the deadbeat baby daddies in all of this?
W1: Ummm... I think you sent them both to war.
KS: Oh! *AHEM* Uhhh...Sorry about that. Let's move on! We will solve this right now. Where is the baby?
Just then a representative from Social Services enters into the courtroom with the baby. The crowd goes 'awwwww'. Soft background music begins to play. (They have to tug on the heart strings because this is sweeps week.)
KS: Please hand the baby to W1.
Baby: WAAAA!!!!
KS: Now hand the baby to W2.
Baby: WAAAA!!!!
KS: OK... That didn't work. I thought that would make it an open and shut case. I guess not. This is going to require me to use my noodle on this one. (The Bailiff whispers in his ear that there is only about 10 minutes of TV time left so he needs to start wrapping up this case.)
King Solomon thought and thought for what seemed like an eternity on TV time. But all of a sudden his God-given talent of wisdom kicked in.
KS: Bailiff, may I borrow your sword?
The Bailiff looked confused but obliged.
KS: Bailiff, will you hold the baby?
Bailiff: Wait, sir! What are you going to do. (As he goes over and takes the baby.)
KS: Well... since I don't know which woman is telling the truth, I have to assume that they are BOTH telling the truth. In which case, this baby should be shared between them. I'm going to cut the baby in half and each woman will get a half a child.
The crowd gasps! The bailiff gets the 'EWWW' face but then shrugs it off because he realizes that this will be GREAT for ratings! Just then the women speak up.
W2: NO! My King! I know you are a wise man and your word is final. But PLEASE don't kill my baby! Just give her (let the record show she is pointing to W1) the baby. I would rather see my baby with her than chopped up for ratings.
W1: See, this woman is questioning your decision. I, for one, think you are a wise, noble and honorably King. So if you think the baby should be split between the two of us then I agree with everything you said.
KS: I will be back after this commercial break with my decision.
(commercial break)
KS: OK. I have made my decision. There will not be any cutting of the baby today. (The crowd goes 'AWWWW!') W1 agrees that I am a wise King so she thinks my decision should be accepted. W2 has already decided to give the child to W1 so there is only one thing left for me to do... (He goes over to the Bailiff and gets the baby.) I'm going to give this beautiful, wonderful... wet baby to its rightful mother... W2. W1 (in a totally ripped from Maury Povich style), you are NOT the mother! You see, there is no way the REAL mother would allow her child be killed. Even if it is sweeps week. So I feel confident that I have made the correct decision. Now, you crazy kids get out of here!
King Solomon gives his signature smile for the camera closeup and ending music plays followed by the credits. Another successful show.
Now you are probably wondering why I told that COMPLETELY accurate story. Well, after reading the story it made me understand one thing... I don't believe that King Solomon RAISED his own children. He had a few of them but this "wisdom" wouldn't have worked on a 4-year old. And it DEFINITELY wouldn't work on my 4-year old. This is the same story but only with a 4-year old:
4-year old: That toy is mine!
2-year old: Mine, daddy!
KS: Now children... You know you should always tell the truth. That's what good people do. So if you want to grow up to be a good person and make something of yourselves you need to start with honesty. Now... whose toy is this?
4YO: Mine!
2YO: Mine, daddy!
KS: Ok. Fine. We are going to have to do this the hard way! Someone bring me the handsaw. I'm going to cut this toy in half and FORCE you two to share or lose the toy. What do you think about that?
4YO: Ok. Go ahead!
2YO: Mine, daddy!
KS: You see little ones... With my infinite wisdom I have just figured out whose toy this is. This toy belongs to the 2YO. If it belonged to you, 4YO, you wouldn't have given it up to slaughter as you have. You wouldn't have allowed me to destroy something you love so much. You would be willing to give it to your sister to make sure it didn't perish. And now that I know this, you should tell the truth little one. Whose toy is this?
4YO: Well, father... It's actually MY toy but I would rather see the toy destroyed than to have to share with my little sister.
KS: CRAP! ... Where's your mother?
I don't know how it is in everyone else's house but that's the way it is in ours. This happens almost daily. Our 4YO would rather lose a toy (or anything else, for that matter) that she loves than to have to share it with her little sister. Now I'm not going to say that Solomon wasn't wise because it was well documented that he was a wise king. (That is, of course, if you don't count the whole taking of 700 wives and 300 more girlfriends. There's NOTHING wise about that. Men have a hard time keeping ONE woman happy. I would hate to see the man that is disappointing 1000 of them at the same time.)
I just wonder how wise King Solomon would have been considered if he were dealing with children.
King Solomon was given the gift of Wisdom. He was wise beyond his years AND experience. There are other stories that tell of his wisdom and why he was considered a great King. But I want to focus on one in particular. It's the story of the 2 mothers and the baby.
King Solomon was busy doing kingly things when he was told that he needed to make a judgment call. He was told that this was a high profile case where the evidence needed to solve it was nonexistent. Not wanting to back down from a challenge, he decided to rule on the case. Plus, he was King so his words would be final. Also, figuring this was a great moment to gain some much needed exposure for his kingdom, he made sure the local media was summonsed and had a front-row seat to this interesting case.
Bailiff: All rise! Hear Ye, Hear Ye! The (currently) United State of Israel Court is now in session. The honorable Judge and King Solomon will be presiding over the case. (Queue the music: Lil Jon - Get Low. He was known for is wisdom but he was also known to get crunk every now and then!) You my now be seated.
King Solomon: Bring forth the plaintiff and the defendant.
Bailiff: I would love to, your Kingship, but I can tell which is which.
KS: What do you mean?
Bailiff: *sigh* Well, you'll see. Bring them both in.
At that point, 2 women walked into the courtroom and make their way to the Bailiff.
Bailiff: Place your hand on this stone tablet with the 10 Commandments etched into it and repeat after me. 'I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.' (The women repeat.)
KS: Great. Now will someone tell me why you are even here.
Woman 1: That woman took my baby!
Woman 2: I did NOT! You took my baby!
KS: Ladies, ladies! One at a time. Woman 1... Would you please tell your side of the story.
W1: Both of us had children at the same time. We were even friends until the other night when SHE (let the record show she is pointing at W2) rolled over and smothered her child in her sleep. I was sleeping soundly in my Sleep Number bed... my number is 20, BTW... when W2 came over and TOOK my baby. I didn't even know my baby was gone until the morning when I realized that I had woken up from the first good nights sleep that I've had since becoming a mother. Now, may I have my baby? Please!
KS: What say you W2?
W2: Well, the story she told was the truth. That is except for the fact that she took MY baby while I was sleeping on my Tempur-Pedic bed.
W1: I did NOT!!!
W2: You did too!
The two women began to fight as the gathering crowd starts chanting 'Solly! Solly! Solly!' Of course, the Bailiff breaks it up.
KS: Ladies, Ladies! I'm not going to warn you again. There will be no fighting in this courtroom! Now do either of you have any witnesses?
W1: No.
W2: No.
KS: *sarcastically* Great. OK. Where are the deadbeat baby daddies in all of this?
W1: Ummm... I think you sent them both to war.
KS: Oh! *AHEM* Uhhh...Sorry about that. Let's move on! We will solve this right now. Where is the baby?
Just then a representative from Social Services enters into the courtroom with the baby. The crowd goes 'awwwww'. Soft background music begins to play. (They have to tug on the heart strings because this is sweeps week.)
KS: Please hand the baby to W1.
Baby: WAAAA!!!!
KS: Now hand the baby to W2.
Baby: WAAAA!!!!
KS: OK... That didn't work. I thought that would make it an open and shut case. I guess not. This is going to require me to use my noodle on this one. (The Bailiff whispers in his ear that there is only about 10 minutes of TV time left so he needs to start wrapping up this case.)
King Solomon thought and thought for what seemed like an eternity on TV time. But all of a sudden his God-given talent of wisdom kicked in.
KS: Bailiff, may I borrow your sword?
The Bailiff looked confused but obliged.
KS: Bailiff, will you hold the baby?
Bailiff: Wait, sir! What are you going to do. (As he goes over and takes the baby.)
KS: Well... since I don't know which woman is telling the truth, I have to assume that they are BOTH telling the truth. In which case, this baby should be shared between them. I'm going to cut the baby in half and each woman will get a half a child.
The crowd gasps! The bailiff gets the 'EWWW' face but then shrugs it off because he realizes that this will be GREAT for ratings! Just then the women speak up.
W2: NO! My King! I know you are a wise man and your word is final. But PLEASE don't kill my baby! Just give her (let the record show she is pointing to W1) the baby. I would rather see my baby with her than chopped up for ratings.
W1: See, this woman is questioning your decision. I, for one, think you are a wise, noble and honorably King. So if you think the baby should be split between the two of us then I agree with everything you said.
KS: I will be back after this commercial break with my decision.
(commercial break)
KS: OK. I have made my decision. There will not be any cutting of the baby today. (The crowd goes 'AWWWW!') W1 agrees that I am a wise King so she thinks my decision should be accepted. W2 has already decided to give the child to W1 so there is only one thing left for me to do... (He goes over to the Bailiff and gets the baby.) I'm going to give this beautiful, wonderful... wet baby to its rightful mother... W2. W1 (in a totally ripped from Maury Povich style), you are NOT the mother! You see, there is no way the REAL mother would allow her child be killed. Even if it is sweeps week. So I feel confident that I have made the correct decision. Now, you crazy kids get out of here!
King Solomon gives his signature smile for the camera closeup and ending music plays followed by the credits. Another successful show.
Now you are probably wondering why I told that COMPLETELY accurate story. Well, after reading the story it made me understand one thing... I don't believe that King Solomon RAISED his own children. He had a few of them but this "wisdom" wouldn't have worked on a 4-year old. And it DEFINITELY wouldn't work on my 4-year old. This is the same story but only with a 4-year old:
4-year old: That toy is mine!
2-year old: Mine, daddy!
KS: Now children... You know you should always tell the truth. That's what good people do. So if you want to grow up to be a good person and make something of yourselves you need to start with honesty. Now... whose toy is this?
4YO: Mine!
2YO: Mine, daddy!
KS: Ok. Fine. We are going to have to do this the hard way! Someone bring me the handsaw. I'm going to cut this toy in half and FORCE you two to share or lose the toy. What do you think about that?
4YO: Ok. Go ahead!
2YO: Mine, daddy!
KS: You see little ones... With my infinite wisdom I have just figured out whose toy this is. This toy belongs to the 2YO. If it belonged to you, 4YO, you wouldn't have given it up to slaughter as you have. You wouldn't have allowed me to destroy something you love so much. You would be willing to give it to your sister to make sure it didn't perish. And now that I know this, you should tell the truth little one. Whose toy is this?
4YO: Well, father... It's actually MY toy but I would rather see the toy destroyed than to have to share with my little sister.
KS: CRAP! ... Where's your mother?
I don't know how it is in everyone else's house but that's the way it is in ours. This happens almost daily. Our 4YO would rather lose a toy (or anything else, for that matter) that she loves than to have to share it with her little sister. Now I'm not going to say that Solomon wasn't wise because it was well documented that he was a wise king. (That is, of course, if you don't count the whole taking of 700 wives and 300 more girlfriends. There's NOTHING wise about that. Men have a hard time keeping ONE woman happy. I would hate to see the man that is disappointing 1000 of them at the same time.)
I just wonder how wise King Solomon would have been considered if he were dealing with children.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Man-Camp 2010 - The Morning of Nature (Part 3)
So, I didn't sleep well the whole night. Getting back to my roots was not all it was cracked up to be. It sounded much better in the Smoky Mountain National Park brochure. But as soon as the sun started opening up its eyes, so did the Scoutmaster. He was up early because he had a goal to make sure the camp fine didn't die out during the entire trip. (For the record... it didn't.) That meant early morning chopping of firewood.
I could hear the chopping off in the distance. Then it faded away. Not because he got farther away but more because I was finally starting to fall asleep. And just when the sheep started counting me... B-BAM!!!! If you don't know what B-BAM is, that's the sound of a LOG being dropped on the ground and rumbling the surrounding area (like the tent I was just sleeping in). I was able to brush that one off and attempted to go back to sleep when I heard... HACK! HACK! HACK! Of course, THAT'S the sound of a log being chopped into smaller pieces... near the tent That was also the sound of me getting up and getting my day going.
When I emerged from the tent I noticed that Scoutmaster wasn't using the hatchet to chop down the tree. I could only assume it was still being held tightly from what happened the night before. But I found out later that his weapon/tool of choice was a machete. (Quick analogy lesson: Machete is to the knife I had as 50" plasma HDTV is to the screen on my wireless phone.)
The machete was an AWESOME choice but it did bring back some deep rooted fears. The reason I don't get scared watching scary movies is because my mind can't wrap around the "impossible". When something just isn't REAL to me I don't get caught up in it (minus fantasy football and sci-fi (no problem believing sci-fi)). So when I was watching those Friday the 13th hacker/slasher films in the early 80s they didn't bother me. Even at a young age I knew for a fact that no one was REALLY strong enough to take a machete (Jason Voorhees weapon of choice) and literally dismember someone with one swing. That just wasn't possible! And the thought stayed in the realm of impossibility until I watched Scoutmaster chopping this TREE into firewood. NOW that movie is real to me and I will never be able to watch any of them again. I will be telling my therapist the same thing in our next session.
This is the day of nature as my title suggests. And one thing happens when a group of guys are void of women for at least 24 hours is that they start going primal. It's small at first and grows with each passing day there is no female presence. It starts with the chopping wood. Then it goes to the grunting (usually due to aches and pains depending on the age of the camper). Then it goes to the favorite area among men... the Gas of Passage. (It's kinda like a Rite of Passage only it smells a whole lot worse.) With that statement it is also noted that women pass gas as well. I know this for a fact. But I have never seen women pride themselves on their ability to clear out a room (or campsite) with a single blast. I have never heard of women naming their flatulence. I have also never seen a woman go over to another woman (or man for that matter) for the sole purpose of unloading butt bomb on them and then running away to keep from being collateral damage to their own explosion. I'm guessing that MOST of that (with a few exceptions) is distinctly male.
I don't want to downplay this ritual in any way, though. Apparently, (unbeknownst to me) it is a highly-celebrated tradition. It is also one that lasts the ENTIRE day. At one point I could have sworn two butts in our group were having a full-blown (pun intended) conversation with one another (complete with questions AND exclamations). I would also like to note that 2 of our butts were silent (mine being one of them). And it wasn't that my behind didn't want to join in the fun and put its 2 cents in... It was really that mine didn't have much to say. It would act like it wanted to join the conversation but then change its mind at the last minute. I found that very disturbing. I felt like Rudolph not being able to join in any of the reindeer games. Everyone else was just tooting away (and by everyone else I meant the Scoutmaster and the Rookie) and I was just a brass section outcast.
Part of the reason for my lack of organic, homegrown methane is that I made sure I cleared out my system before we headed down to the campsite. Why is that, you ask? (I know SOME of you are asking.) That is because the shortest time to get to nearest "bathroom" was 2.5 hours (longer for wireless - even longer for emergency help). And that is being very generous. When I was 17, "roughing it" was cool. Now that I'm in my mid-30s, I don't particularly like the idea of dropping a deuce in the forest. And it's not that I wouldn't do it, it's just that I didn't want to if I didn't have to. (After explaining to my wife what you have to do when you use the bathroom in the wilderness (before and after) she has opted out of ANY and ALL camping trips that put us more than 10 minutes from the nearest potty.) That doesn't sound too manly but I have to draw the line somewhere.
But with all of that (olfactory disintegrating) auditory FUN going on, the morning was really set aside for important things. We had to setup our clothes on the makeshift clothes line to get the most of the 3 hours of direct sunlight we were going to get. Our clothes were soaked from the rain on the way down. We also had to finish getting enough firewood to last a few days. That took a bulk of the morning. (Another side note: It was really impressive watching the Scoutmaster and the Rookie cut into (and through) these really large trees with that machete. The Dr. and I used the hatchet and we weren't nearly as affective as they were with the military issue machete. But we managed and are better people for it... blisters and all.)
The clothes were on the line drying. We had plenty of firewood. It was time to explore the wilderness.
That is where we will begin Part 4 of this 5-Part experience.
I could hear the chopping off in the distance. Then it faded away. Not because he got farther away but more because I was finally starting to fall asleep. And just when the sheep started counting me... B-BAM!!!! If you don't know what B-BAM is, that's the sound of a LOG being dropped on the ground and rumbling the surrounding area (like the tent I was just sleeping in). I was able to brush that one off and attempted to go back to sleep when I heard... HACK! HACK! HACK! Of course, THAT'S the sound of a log being chopped into smaller pieces... near the tent That was also the sound of me getting up and getting my day going.
When I emerged from the tent I noticed that Scoutmaster wasn't using the hatchet to chop down the tree. I could only assume it was still being held tightly from what happened the night before. But I found out later that his weapon/tool of choice was a machete. (Quick analogy lesson: Machete is to the knife I had as 50" plasma HDTV is to the screen on my wireless phone.)
The machete was an AWESOME choice but it did bring back some deep rooted fears. The reason I don't get scared watching scary movies is because my mind can't wrap around the "impossible". When something just isn't REAL to me I don't get caught up in it (minus fantasy football and sci-fi (no problem believing sci-fi)). So when I was watching those Friday the 13th hacker/slasher films in the early 80s they didn't bother me. Even at a young age I knew for a fact that no one was REALLY strong enough to take a machete (Jason Voorhees weapon of choice) and literally dismember someone with one swing. That just wasn't possible! And the thought stayed in the realm of impossibility until I watched Scoutmaster chopping this TREE into firewood. NOW that movie is real to me and I will never be able to watch any of them again. I will be telling my therapist the same thing in our next session.
This is the day of nature as my title suggests. And one thing happens when a group of guys are void of women for at least 24 hours is that they start going primal. It's small at first and grows with each passing day there is no female presence. It starts with the chopping wood. Then it goes to the grunting (usually due to aches and pains depending on the age of the camper). Then it goes to the favorite area among men... the Gas of Passage. (It's kinda like a Rite of Passage only it smells a whole lot worse.) With that statement it is also noted that women pass gas as well. I know this for a fact. But I have never seen women pride themselves on their ability to clear out a room (or campsite) with a single blast. I have never heard of women naming their flatulence. I have also never seen a woman go over to another woman (or man for that matter) for the sole purpose of unloading butt bomb on them and then running away to keep from being collateral damage to their own explosion. I'm guessing that MOST of that (with a few exceptions) is distinctly male.
I don't want to downplay this ritual in any way, though. Apparently, (unbeknownst to me) it is a highly-celebrated tradition. It is also one that lasts the ENTIRE day. At one point I could have sworn two butts in our group were having a full-blown (pun intended) conversation with one another (complete with questions AND exclamations). I would also like to note that 2 of our butts were silent (mine being one of them). And it wasn't that my behind didn't want to join in the fun and put its 2 cents in... It was really that mine didn't have much to say. It would act like it wanted to join the conversation but then change its mind at the last minute. I found that very disturbing. I felt like Rudolph not being able to join in any of the reindeer games. Everyone else was just tooting away (and by everyone else I meant the Scoutmaster and the Rookie) and I was just a brass section outcast.
Part of the reason for my lack of organic, homegrown methane is that I made sure I cleared out my system before we headed down to the campsite. Why is that, you ask? (I know SOME of you are asking.) That is because the shortest time to get to nearest "bathroom" was 2.5 hours (longer for wireless - even longer for emergency help). And that is being very generous. When I was 17, "roughing it" was cool. Now that I'm in my mid-30s, I don't particularly like the idea of dropping a deuce in the forest. And it's not that I wouldn't do it, it's just that I didn't want to if I didn't have to. (After explaining to my wife what you have to do when you use the bathroom in the wilderness (before and after) she has opted out of ANY and ALL camping trips that put us more than 10 minutes from the nearest potty.) That doesn't sound too manly but I have to draw the line somewhere.
But with all of that (olfactory disintegrating) auditory FUN going on, the morning was really set aside for important things. We had to setup our clothes on the makeshift clothes line to get the most of the 3 hours of direct sunlight we were going to get. Our clothes were soaked from the rain on the way down. We also had to finish getting enough firewood to last a few days. That took a bulk of the morning. (Another side note: It was really impressive watching the Scoutmaster and the Rookie cut into (and through) these really large trees with that machete. The Dr. and I used the hatchet and we weren't nearly as affective as they were with the military issue machete. But we managed and are better people for it... blisters and all.)
The clothes were on the line drying. We had plenty of firewood. It was time to explore the wilderness.
That is where we will begin Part 4 of this 5-Part experience.
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