Part One
By Jody Worsham
All rights reserved for camp repellant
I am determined that my eight-year-old will miss as little
as possible because he was blessed with senior parents and that included the
Boy Scout Mommy and Me campout.
I think I have always viewed the Boy Scouts like one of
those Norman Rockwell paintings of Americana.
In my mind I could see Norman painting my little Cub Scout in our
backyard, pitching his tent, cooking on an open fire, and proudly saluting the
flag with me watching from my porch wearing a 1940’s type hairstyle and house
dress. I’m not sure Norman ever went camping
with his mother much less his grandmother and more than hairstyles and fashion have changed
since the Boy Scouts of the l940’s.
First there was the paper work that had to be filled out
before we could attend this 24 hour Mommy and Me campout. That equates to about one page for every hour
spent camping. Files had to be
downloaded. Ok, there are some definite
disadvantages to having parents born in the 40’s but once I figured out which
button to click, we were fine; well except I had to phone my 93 year old mother
to ask if she remembered when I had gotten my last tetanus shot. I whipped out the old credit card, paid our
fees, and printed three sets of documents to take with us to the camp.
Next, it was off to Wal-Mart for a two person tent light
enough for me to carry, simple enough to erect, and cheap enough to
afford. We found…..one. I grabbed it just before the mommy stampede
started. “Remember the Boy Scout Motto: Be
Prepared! You should have come earlier” and I raced for the closest check-out
stand.
Then there was the all-important list of other suggested
“necessities” for this camping trip: flashlight, change of clothes, extra
shoes, sleeping bags, rain gear, ground cover, first-aid kit, snacks, water,
Boy Scout uniform, jackets, lawn chairs, insect repellent, and a means to haul
all of this to the campsite which could be as much as a mile away from the
parking lot on a gravel trail. “Be Prepared!” kept racing through my brain so I
added Advil, Icy Hot, Thermal Wrap, aspirin and doubled my hormone replacement
meds. To get all of this gear to camp,
which now filled the back of my suburban, it was suggested that we also pack a
little red wagon, luggage carrier, or a rolling garbage can. I noticed U-Haul was not listed.
The day of the camp out we arrived early, or what I thought
was early. The parking lot was already
filled with what looked like 400 refugees fleeing an impending hurricane and with
all their worldly goods that they could carry. A mad house of shopping carts, grocery carts, rolling garbage cans, rolling
suitcases, garden wagons, little red wagons, all rolling, bumping, and tipping over were
swirling around me. Women and children
were running all over the place while dark thundering clouds gathered on the
horizon. “Be Prepared”. I parked next to
the road facing the exit and unloaded.
As we headed to registration I saw a small flash of lightning. I clutched my child, cell phone, and garbage
can handle as we rolled, bumped, and tipped over our overloaded trash can. Echoing with the distant thunder was “Be Prepared. Be Prepared.
Be Prepared”. But I wasn’t at
all prepared for what was to come.
(Continued in next week’s blog)
