As summer draws to a close, I reflect on the value of the hot and dry days that have just passed with some regret as we all know that the fall and winter season is closely upon us.
Each year, at about this time, I reflect on the summers of many years ago.
As the daughter of immigrants, my family did not have a lot of experience in the camping or picnic space; but that did not stop them. Looking at summer as days to be enjoyed in the great outdoors, they purchased tents, tent trailers, Coleman stoves, lanterns, and coolers that would hold and provide what was the most important to our family, the food.
There were certain factors, however, we really did not catch on to, and in fact, we made the outdoors fit into our reality instead of the other way around.
When we say that the family enjoyed summers outdoors, we mean the whole family. In laws, aunts/uncles, cousins, grandparents, parents, and friends would “descend” on the picnic or camp site.
We would notice a look of shock and trepidation as we approached our summer neighbours. This was quickly erased as they were invited to partake in a lunch of fresh pasta and meatballs, fried chicken, salad, and home-made bread. Our families became fast friends. (the wine helped). We, in turn as children, would look to their families with envy because unlike us, they had prepared sandwiches, fruit, cookies and treats like potato chips for lunch. And I know what you are thinking, and yes today I realize the value of an Italian spread, but in that time, we looked upon white bread that came in a bag as something we really wanted.
Being outdoors our parents hoped that we would burn off some of the endless energy we all had. You would have to understand that at any given time there could be 30 to 40 children of varied ages, related in some manner or another, hanging around. We would swim, (watched by our parents who couldn’t swim a stroke), we would climb what we thought were mountains, only to be scared off by bears who would be feasting and we would race along train tracks, not worried that perhaps a train would eventually come along and we had no where to go.
Campfire stories are always fun but for us, campfires were also a source of the only heat available. In fact, our sleeping bags had many burn holes in them as our parents, afraid we would freeze to death, would heat rocks in the fire, and toss them at our feet. In the bag. No one worried that the bags could catch fire and if that ever happened, we were expected to just put it out.
And speaking of sleeping, many of you may recall that in those days, tents were made of tarp type material that was difficult to put up and heavy, especially when wet. I am not certain what made our parents think they knew how to put up a tent with ease; the reality was something quite different. Determined to make it work, there were often poles thrown through the air, bent to work into the shape required and planted into earth that would be best described as concrete. (I muse that the same behaviour could describe putting up our Christmas tree every year.) There was only one rule while in the tent. Do not touch the outside walls, especially in a rainstorm. It would leak. I am not sure if that was true, and my concern was more about our holding onto an aluminum pole during a lightening storm.
Today, as we have grown older, lost some of our family and friends, relocated to other communities, it is harder to get together. When we do, it is like old times. We are a bit more knowledgeable, and technology certainly has advanced however I do not think I can withstand a tent vacation anymore. I am a glamping girl all the way! But there are certain skills no one could take away from us. How to start a Coleman stove, lantern and light a fire among them. And of course, how to stay warm on cold northern nights.
Happy Fall everyone.
