I can count the times I went tent camping on one hand. This column is about one of those times.
A 1986 Women-only trip took me to Michigan and a campout in the wild on an island.
I remember walking along the shoreline and almost falling into the water when a gust of wind took me off my feet. That same gusty wind rushed through our tent that night. It was quite an adventure.
I don’t think I’ll change my mind about tenting. I’m too old for roughing it.
I’ll gladly leave those adventures to younger people.
I prefer a good bed, electricity, and a fully functioning bathroom.
FYI: when it came time to go to the Grand Hotel for our reserved rooms, they didn’t want to let this motly group of women campers in. We clashed with their decor. Eventually, after having us sit on the front steps, they finally let us in as long as we hurried through their entrance hall. — Eventually, we cleaned up and changed to appropriate garb and blended in with their other guests. The crazy thing was that I prefered the rough camping to the hotel setting.
If I hadn’t written this in a column, I would never have remembered any of the day. I don’t remember what class I took that fall, maybe because I was half asleep during the class. But that’s only a small part of this happening. Listen and hear what I was sharing.
Bob isn’t mentioned as he was working his long night shift at Seymour Canning Company. That took him away from the family well into October and then harvest took his attention.
Memories are good to save and share. I hope you consider saving some of your own.
My husband was a workaholic. This column from 1987 tells how he attempted to do everything, except sleep. During his night shirt at the canning company, he was found a time of two sleeping standing up–this is not an exageration.
For summer and fall, I lived as a single parent, which wasn’t easy either. Often I felt I was being pulled apart when I was needed on the farm knowing our children required at least one parent some of the time.
Anyway this is what I wrote about Bob during those hectic times.
Watching Bob work himself to death wasn’t easy to witness but no one could stop him from any of his work adventures.
Today, I’m missing him and wishing we had more time together. It was a good thing he did eventually slow down, finding time to enjoy more than work.