When I was a boy a night by White River meant makeshift wilderness camping with other lads who were as eager as I to prove that we were ready to become men and loose our dreams and ambitions on an abstract world that was out there somewhere. The camp--which usually consisted of the necessary number of blankets to roll up in at some point, one or two cane fishing poles and maybe a beat-up old .22 single-shot rifle-- sometimes smelled of freshly caught-and-cleaned fish roasting over a fire, just the way the camps of the trail-riding cowboys and traveling Indians had smelled a hundred years before us. More often, however, the aroma was of fried chicken and biscuits or cornbread that our mothers had fixed for us to take on our wilderness survival trek. During these campouts we boys learned to talk and think about many things, to share our excess fare with a buddy or buddies who didnt have as much, to go check out strange noises outside the firelights circle rather than huddle fearfully and be intimidated by what MIGHT be there and to have a plan in mind in case it got stormy or rainy during the night. We learned that practical jokes that messed up someones night were not jokes at all, but were dirty tricks. We learned that it isnt funny to use someones particular fear or physical infirmity as the subject of jokes when it disturbs or embarrasses them. We learned that each boys possessions at the camp were his and were not to be touched by anyone else unless the owner said it was okay. We learned that if there was the occasional loudmouth or braggart among the group, the most effective response was to ignore his excesses and show him by our actions that, while each of us might have our particular survival talent to contribute to the good of the camp, no one of us was any more impressive than the others. We learned a lot of valuable lessons like that. But that was when I was a boy. Its a different world now. There may not be many youngsters today who would want to learn those life skills. Even if there are they would have to do it differently, because most of the old campsites along our stretch of the river are now the lawns of houses and a group of unknown teenaged men-in-training wouldnt be allowed to stay there. New laws would prompt the authorities to come and send a group of boys like that home--or thrust them into a system that would result in monetary commitments from their parents--before the boys had a chance to learn the things that we learned. But I and the guys I grew up with still remember those lessons, because we learned them long ago in a different time. When I was a boy.
Posted on: Fri, 25 Apr 2014 01:02:58 +0000
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