Fireside Chats

Just at dawn, my father's sleeping bag would rustle as he quietly rose, fumbled for warmer clothes and reached for his shoes. The hollow whirr of the zippers would fill the room, first to open the screened door and then the canvas flap. My mother would follow a few minutes later, stretching up tall into her morning, brushing her hair back with the smallest brush I've ever seen, and straightening the sleeping bags and pillows before slipping on her shoes.

I'd listen to their morning footsteps, the click and pop of the camp stove as the propane caught, their quiet companionable murmers, birds chirping and rustling in the trees, the spit and crackle of bacon as its scent filled the air. Stiff from the air mattress having gone flat during the night, my eyes would drift along the color coded tent poles, along the seams to the little windows with pockets that stored stuff like a flashlight and Kleenex we might need during the night.

My brother would be curled into his dreams and scrunched down so far only the top of his head was visible, and I'd scramble for a sweatshirt and tumble out of the tent, knowing the first one up got a taste of bacon. And that began an exploratory day of hiking trails and fishing and swimming until twilight.

At dusk, a conch shell would sound and everyone would head over to the place where rough-hewn benches and a little stage sat. The Ranger would pick a volunteer to help him light the gigantic bonfire and I'd envy the little badge or magnifying glass or little book on birds he'd give away as a thank you. My folks would laugh as we sang silly camp songs like 'we're going on a bear hunt' and pantomimes as chipmunks or raccoons.

The Fireside Chat always involved an entertaining Ranger who taught us about animals, birds and snakes from their point of view. Each night was a different topic with a different Ranger so we went more than once. And afterwards, with the flashlight leading the way in the dark, I most loved the sounds of walking back together, talking about the chat, knowing we would build a little bonfire of our own and roast marshmallows.