After a daring run out to the camp from the pizza guys in Cannon Falls, we enjoyed a good, greasy dinner. Then it was time for tubing. The hill is located about a mile away from the Gwin Center and we trudged through the schmutz and ice to get there. The tubing hill was probably about half the size of the one at Buck Hill, but it is plenty steep and the surface was essentially glaze ice with a fine coating of light snow on top. The landing area for the hill usually serves as the camp's archery range and there is even more space than in the parade grounds. The kids and many of the parents took tubes and headed down, hurtling down the two runs at some pretty fearsome speeds. From the top, the view was magical. It was almost being inside a snow globe, snow lightly falling and a light wind that barely stung the cheeks. The land was silent except for the screams and whoops of delighted children and their equally delighted parents. I did not take a tube myself; for me, simply being an observer was sufficient. The kids made several runs where they placed the tubes together and sent out as a giant rubberized mass, scattering at the bottom of the run like tenpins. After about 90 minutes of this, we headed back to camp for more cards and, eventually, sleep.
SNOWMAGEDDON finally arrived that night; by the time we awoke, about 8 inches were on the ground. We ate our breakfast and cleaned up the cabins. By the time we had packed up, the park rangers had plowed all the roads and we were able to head back to the Twin Cities. The trip was not the least bit harrowing, although the sight of at least 200-250 snowmobilers cruising through the ditches and culverts along Highway 52 was momentarily jarring. Ben and I arrived home to find over a foot of snow in our driveway, which was freshly plowed in with 3-4 feet in the entrance. The kids romped and Jill and I toiled.
Why go into this level of detail? Well,
- I never had experiences like this in my own childhood. I understand the reasons; with six children, my parents were pulled in more directions than I could ever imagine. I can invest a ton of time on Ben and Maria, an option my parents did not have with me. Because I can do these things, I should.
- Organizations like the Boy Scouts don't get enough credit for the things they do and the experiences they provide. Ben has greatly enjoyed his Cub Scout experience, which is now drawing to a conclusion. The Phillipo Scout Camp is a marvelous place; it provides kids with an opportunity for adventure, even if the edges are somewhat shaved off. We are suburbanites and we live in a comfortable, exceptionally well-manicured town. It is easy to become soft living in such a place. Kids need adventures. Ben has had plenty of them at Phillipo and he is better for it. Maria, as she pursues similar adventures in Girl Scouting, will have similar opportunities as well. She will be better for the experience, too.
- Parents of my generation struggle with the role they play. My dad was a wonderful, kind-hearted man, generous to a fault and possessing a gentle sense of humor. I know all this, but I didn't always see understand it when I was young. Because of the circumstances of our lives, Dad was often a distant figure. The distance between us was not intentional, but I suspect it had its uses for him. I've always felt that dads of my generation have been trying to sort all that out. We all remember hearing the gentle admonitions of Harry Chapin's "Cats in the Cradle" when we were young and I have always heard that sing-song voice in my head as I've dealt with Ben and Maria. I think kids now. especially suburban kids, get a lot more attention, which is generally a positive thing. At the same time, I wonder if familiarity will breed contempt.
- There's an old saying - "God don't make junk." That's a vernacular way of expressing the notion that we all are here for a reason and that God has a plan for all of us. I think that we all feel like junk some times. But we have to keep in mind the greater purpose. It is possible that my reason for being is because Ben and Maria need a father. That I am their father is the evident manifestation of God's plan. Given that, I'd better darned well make sure I do my best for them. I continue to believe that God has other plans for me besides these duties, and that He will make His wishes known in due course.
More tomorrow. And I'll get to the Brewers, too. Really.
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