A Blast from Campsite Past

            Long time, no blog! I realized that I never posted Part II to Tony’s MABF competition, and then thought that maybe too much time had passed. Let me know what you think. I can still put something up. I guess that by now I figured most of you had heard how he and Lesleigh placed in New York City and such; but if there’s still interest, I will do it.

I hope all is well in your parts of the world. Things are good here in Waukesha, Wis – busy, like everybody else, but good! The summertime certainly does go by quickly, doesn’t it? I wish that January and February went by as fast, but they never seem to, do they? (Unless a lovely warm-weather vacation is on the calendar – then that goes by quickly too!) ;)

Sooo… Recently as I chatted with friends and scanned through Facebook and Twitter posts, I saw so much talk about camping. It made me stop and think… when was the first time I camped and who was I with? It didn’t take me long to remember, and I’d like to share some of those experiences with you today.

When I was a kid, our church had an organization called, “Lutheran Girl Pioneers.” It existed for girls from 3^rd grade (8/9 years old) through 8^th grade confirmation age (13/14). It was much like Girl Scouts (although I never actually was a Girl Scout – it’s what I’d equate it with). We learned about many subjects, always with God at their center: cooking, nature, first aid, woodworking, how to apply make-up, childcare, and more. Though I found many of the activities to be enjoyable, one yearly event stood out for me, and towered high above the rest – the annual LGP campout.

We always camped at the same place – Mukwonago County Park. For the sake of this blog post I decided to take a drive out to the park, and see how it looks now, 40 years later. To my delight, not much had changed. I’d have bet the exact opposite, but no, it looked pretty much the same. As I drove through the gate, the beach was still to my left, and although I remembered it having more sand, a raft was still anchored over “the deep end.” The cement block bathhouse hadn’t been updated at all. A layer of pink paint lined the ladies’ room walls, and someone had painted over the stall’s doors, locks and everything. Some things just do not change. ;)  

Since very few people were in the park that day, I took the time to drive the winding road up to the group camp area, all the while remembering the good ole days… I paused at the top of the hill and took this picture. I wanted to show you how pretty it is here in Wisconsin and just why I love it so <3 …

Many trees now cover the camp areas where open grassy spaces used to exist, and yet this particular site looked almost the same. As young girls this was where we learned to spot poison ivy, pitch canvas tents, spark a fire, cook our meals in tinfoil packs (ground beef/carrots/potatoes), and roast marshmallows.

Once we all settled down we sang songs about great big bears a waaaay over there; and Joe having a head like a ping pong ball; and come by here Lord – come by here (Kum by yah). One of our chaperones would lead a devotion and we’d learn something about God’s love for us. Before bed we’d make our way to the bathrooms (pit toilets – ick), but when you’re ten, is there anything more fun than running around at night with a flashlight, regardless of the destination? I don’t think so…

After we snuggled into our flannel sleeping bags underneath the protection of our canvas tents, we’d talk about other things, important things  – boys and life – all of the things we’d seen, heard, tried; things we knew (or thought we knew); and all the things we still wondered about. Sometimes a quiet game of truth or dare would erupt. Now that I’m an adult and I know how thin canvas actually is, I can’t help but wonder if our adult chaperones heard every single thing we ever confessed… hmmm… I really hope not!

During the day, if the weather was hot, we begged to spend our time at the beach. We’d spread our towels in a cluster on the sand, continuing our conversations from the previous night. (As a side note, the day I visited the park, girls still stood and sat in clusters, whispering about – well, who really knows? But I (for one) have got a few guesses…) In the water, we’d take turns doing hand stands, and some brave girls dove from the raft. As we grew older, though, some no longer wanted to get their hair wet… ah, youth…  we (or society?) give ourselves so little time to be completely young and carefree… Why is that?

And at the end of a long afternoon, we’d hike our way back up a huge hill (which still looks very huge by the way) starving and ready for dinner - ready to repeat another campfire, another songfest, (and my own personal favorite part) another night in the confines of our tent. I still know some of those young women now, and can honestly say that when you share so many confidences over the years – from friend troubles to family issues to boys, and yes, especially  God - true and lasting relationships formed and continue to this day.

At 52 years old, as I stood by my idling car, taking pictures of this long-ago place from my childhood, I silently gave so much credit to our adult volunteers. They took three days and two nights of their summer, so that we could have these early camping and bonding experiences. As kids we may not have always appreciated every minute that they gave. Between giggling our fool heads off, complaining some, and even a bout or two of tears (we were pre-teen girls after all) I truly do value those days now, and thank each of the adults for the efforts they made.

As I wound my way back down the hill, glanced back at the beach and drove away, I felt so glad that I’d visited the park that day. Sometimes things change to the point that we no longer recognize them; and sometimes they stay exactly the same. And I guess there’s a time for both…

… a time for every purpose under Heaven.

Katie Kolberg Memmel is the author of “Five Fingers, Ten Toes – A Mother’s Story of Raising a Child Born with a Limb Difference.” For more information, visit her website at www.katiekolbergmemmel.com