I never went to camp. Not really. One summer in my youth, probably during the third grade or so, I went with a friend of mine, to the downtown location of the Boys Club. I guess it was some sort of a summer day camp. Truthfully? I think our parents sent us down there to be loose of a third friend who was a bad influence on us. She was always trying to get us to smoke. Anyway, we went daily. One parent would drop us off and another would pick us up later in the day.
I can’t remember what we did there, all day. But I do remember the boxed lunches. I loved them. It was like nothing I’d ever had before. I liked the way they looked and felt, those little folded crisp boxes. I loved the surprise of unfolding the lid, and seeing what might be inside. Rarely did I trade anything. It was all so good to me, back then. Even when it was the prune juice in those little plastic cups with the foil lids.
But, they had some kind of an offering for a “Week of Overnight Camping.” Our parents decided to send us. The long and short of this story? I didn’t last a full day. I was a city kid for crying out loud, and our “cabins” barely had walls. I didn’t see any concrete, glass, or steel, anywhere! I got so sick from inconsolable crying that Mom & Dad had to come and retrieve me. I can remember crawling into my own bed after that, pulling the covers up, and crying again, but in a happier way. The homebody, was home.
I’m still that way. I’d rather be home than anywhere else in the world. While I have fun exploring, once I make the effort to travel — the culture, the sights, the history, the food — I’d much rather stay put. Remember, I was the kid who was delighted with the simplicity of the boxed lunch.
But. Back to camp. Our family used to go to Camp Marydale in Kentucky. The older kids had been going for years to this good place. And I seemed to be fine with the situation, as long as I was with my tribe. But once, my parents decided to do the “Couples Catholic Retreat” at Marydale, and I had to stay in a dormitory without any of my siblings. Forget it. I think I was four. Again, with the inconsolable crying. There was no saving grace this time. I was in Camp Hell.
Now, when someone says, “Hey! Let’s go camping.” I have to take a step back and wonder what might be wrong with this person.
Regardless, the point to all of this was the Craft Classes that we took at Marydale. These were better than the boxed lunches. Never before did I know that I was capable of such things. This was discovery at its best. Better than Newton noticing apples falling. I found out that I was an artist and I loved to create art.
We made hand print ashtrays, and little wooden boxes with glitter glued to the top. Or there were rocks that we painted as paperweights. Now that I’ve said that out loud, I have to wonder. So, a small segue here. Back when I was a child, there was an incredible need for paperweights. Kids made them for their parents. They were even available in fine stores, along with letter openers, and fancy pens. Have we — as a society — lost our drafty places? Our buildings, homes, and offices must have been wind tunnels back then. I fear, now, the paperweight has gone extinct.
Another deep sigh for society. All those people in stale air, wanting to go camping.
But through all of this, I’ve decided that self discovery is an important thing to humans. One way or the other. Perhaps, the best help we can give to ourselves, is to see our unique potential. Our talents. Our places in life. Like traveling on that entire path, just to discover that I loved to create any work of art. Yes, that carefully drawn turkey, with my hand print for the body and feathers. The macrame thingy with the bead in the center. All those things.
And, even better, if we can help others to see those things about themselves. Sometimes they are unaware of their unique gifts. But our encouragement might help them utilize those abilities. Because. I think when we use our gifts, it makes up happy.
Finding moments of happiness in our lives is a good thing.
Those moments of discovery.
Like any moment I’m not camping.
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“Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.”
― Mahatma Gandhi
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“Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.”
― Robert Frost
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“And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon.”
― Edward Lear, The Owl and the Pussycat
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