A few years ago, after my own father passed away, I decided to honor a friend on Father’s Day who’d recently become a father for the second time. In other words, without my own father physically present, I symbolically celebrated Father’s Day, and selected someone whose own kids were too young to pay him tribute.
These days, that friend is now divorced (as were my parents), and regularly gripes about his relationships with his (almost) teen-aged children. So much for that tradition… Sorry if I jinxed your fatherhood!
Wanting to recognize my own father on this blog within the scope of the blog’s theme, I recalled my father twice taking me and my sister camping, both times to the same campground. We set up camp, played Frisbee and board games, hiked the campground “loop,” and…
Not, “That’s all I remember,” but rather, “That’s all we did.” Maybe we did more, but if so, my sister doesn’t remember it either.
(Smores. I think we made smores.)
I keep asking myself, “Why did we go there twice?” It wasn’t notably entertaining, interesting, or beautiful. Maybe that location meant something to him? Maybe it was accessible with young kids? Why there, when somewhere new would have been more fun, which seemed to be his intention? And where was there?
Anyway, since I don’t (and never will) know where we went or even exactly why, in lieu of dwelling on my fatherlessness or paltry camping memories, I’ve decided to establish an imaginary Campfire Tales campground as a Father’s Day tradition.
Anyone can join! Wish you could take your kids camping? Wish you had kids to take camping? Wish your (absent/deadbeat/dead) father took you camping? Wish you could go camping with your father? Foster Campground hosts all campers. There’s always room. The weather is always perfect. Don’t let Father’s Day get you down; go virtual camping! Please feel free to tell me about your Foster Campground.
My camp looks like the below, and a funny squirrel lives there.