WHO'S NOT OF CAMPING - Segment 2 (Scroll down for opening segment)


     Before the “Tent Wars,” our vacations often meant traveling to Nebraska to visit my wife’s parents.  Along the way, we would stop and visit friends, at least those who would let us stay.  After they quit answering our knocks at their door and turned a deaf ear to our whimpering, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands.  We would try camping.  Connie said she was glad I took that matter into my hands because she didn’t want the blood of camping on her hands. 

     Being the All-American family that we were, I felt we needed to enjoy a part of our vacation each year in the great outdoors.  I could even see our names emblazoned into the “Who’s Who of Camping.”

     “But Dad,” my kids pleaded, “what about others enjoying the great outdoors; like mosquitoes, snakes, and BEARS!”

     Connie may have sided with the kids but, fortunately, her amnesia from child rearing erased all memories of past camping experiences.

     Apparently feeling sorry for the kids and thinking the four of us would have to sleep in a pup tent, my mother bought us a large family tent.  I told her we would never have a family that large, but she said we would appreciate the space.  It was a heavy canvas tent, made to last.  The question was whether I would last, trying to raise it. 

     Arriving home, we laid out the tent in the backyard.   “I don’t think we can put this up without a building permit,” I said.  My mother took one look at the tent and immediately sought refuge in the house.  My wife could sense trouble brewing, so she stayed inside and left the tent and me alone, to work out our differences. 

     There was relative calm until I began to hoist the tent into an upright position.  That’s when everything began to deteriorate.  It wasn’t long before the neighbors heard a strange noise and looked outside, only to see a large tent thrashing about on the ground.  By the time they arrived, the tent was barely moving, collapsed around me like it was guarding its kill.  I was still alive, but reduced to a weakened state; suffering from heat exhaustion, and hoarse from begging the canvas monster to spare my life.   

     With their help, I managed to erect the monster.  I wished they could have gone camping with us. 

    
     My first opportunity to demonstrate my tent-raising skills came in the Colorado Rockies... 


To be continue...check back soon