Something I'll Never Forget (Out Under the Stars)

Explorers and adventurers of the inter-webs.  Greetings.

It has been awhile.

But I'm back.

Friday afternoon found my brother Bear and I wending our way through the Missouri countryside to our church's guys-camp-out at The Van Till Family Winery (the Van Tills are members of our church).  It being Bear's very first camp-out, it's safe to assume that he was quite excited.

I managed to accomplish the one hour drive without getting lost more than once, and we were surprisingly a few of the first to arrive.  Once more guys arrived, we started to pitch our tents and prepare the camp site for our night's stay.  As soon as the majority of us had gathered, we dove into the game of kick the can.  This is not normally dangerous unless you play in extreme conditions. Bear somehow managed to create his own extreme conditions.

Like many games, the goal of kick the can is to allude the person who is "it."  The longer you stay out of their clutches, the better.  My brother soon found that the best tactic for this game is to switch hiding places frequently.  It worked for the better part of the game, but it came back and bit him in the butt when he stepped into a bog.

I was the person whose goal was to capture as many people as I could.  (AKA, I was "it".)  I was managing quite well for awhile, but then somehow there was a massive jailbreak (I'm sure it was an inside job; I need to mount an investigation in my department.).  My jail looked rather lonely, and so as I attempted to fill it back up again, the game came to an abrupt halt.  Someone caught my attention and called me over to where my brother was standing shin-deep in a bog.  We were able to extract him after a couple of the younger fellas (who were well equipped with serious mud boots) got in and were able to get him a step closer to freedom. Then I was able to grab him and pull him to dry land.  (I had attempted to step out to him, but of course, I started to sink after putting weight on that foot.)

He did lose a shoe which was soon retrieved by a few of his friends who enthusiastically fished it out. Although he was a little disappointed, Bear still had quite the time and was very excited when I told him we might camp again in the fall.

After a late dinner of hot dogs and chips (camp-out staples), a game of airsoft, and German spotlight, the Lopez boys turned in.  But the adventure was nowhere near over.  That is when something happened that I'll never forget.

The storm struck at four in the AM.  And it struck hard.  It may have been the fact that we were outside with only a thin piece of tent wall stood between us and the elements, but this storm was different.  It was fierce.  The rain pelted on the top of our tent, and the wind whipped up the sides of the tent to a state of flapping.  I'm convinced that without the weight of the Lopez boys and their gear, our tent would have been snatched up by the wind and swept away.  I was wide awake.  But Bear, on the other hand, was fast asleep.  He was born to camp.

It was something I'll never forget.

A barn out near the camp site.

View from the barn