Last weekend was the opening weekend of second rifle season. I rode up with my mom Friday morning and got to camp a little after lunch. I love seeing all the campers set up, the ring of camp chairs around the campfire, which of course has to be burning despite the weather being a little on the warm side.
Camp just isn’t camp without the cheerful orange glow, ya know?
Besides that, it’s the center of any camp where people gather to eat, gossip, relax, nap, and tell stories. Sometimes the stories are about previous hunts. It’s funny how the animal gets larger, has a bigger rack, and the shot was taken from much further away as the years pass. And since shooting my first buck three years ago, I have my own story to tell.
And I admit, my tale gets a little taller each year 😉
One of my favorite times is sitting around the camp fire after dinner. Most of us are drinking an alcoholic beverage of some kind and before I know it, my dad and his brother, Pat, start telling stories about when they grew up. They usually involve their other brother, Jody, trying to kill their father, Fran.
Of course, there is no real killing involved, only Jody’s clumsiness and their poor dad getting caught in the crossfire. He gets smashed between a car and a wall, the little button on the top of a ball cap drilled into the top of his head, let out of a vehicle to pee right next to the edge of a short cliff, a hammer dropped on his head from the top of a ladder, and a host of others. Grandpa would holler and carry on, shouting for Irene (Grandma) to bring the “thing” (aka neck brace). No matter what injury he sustained, he always whined that he needed the “thing”.
*Laughing even as I write this* I’ve heard these stories at least a hundred times and I laugh just as hard the first time I heard them.
I’ve tried several times to write the stories down hoping to capture some of the hilarity so I can share it with others. But something is lost in the translation from fireside to paper, the facial expressions, the hunched shoulders as dad or Uncle Pat act out Grandpa shouting for his neck brace. Maybe one of these days I’ll try to video tape it so everyone can see what I’m talking about.
Although the laughter of everyone listening to the Fran stories will probably drown everything out! 😀
Do you have stories like this from your past? I’d love to hear from you!