Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Getting a new sleeping bag was always fun. I liked the smell of them and the slippery, nylon feel to them as I slid in. Just about every week in the summer the gang was sleeping out somewhere. The most popular place was of course in our spacious, tree-lined backyard. I think it was because Mom always stocked us up for the night with jugs of Kool-Aid and tasty snacks to hold until morning. We were always up early, beating the sun's appearance and wandering about the neighborhood, occasionally getting into mischief even before our fathers left for work. The nights were filled with pre-teen escapades that are better left to memories. The best family camping trip was when we loaded up the station wagon and headed for an extended weekend to Camden Hills State Park. Mom and Dad borrowed a large wall tent from some neighbors for them and my sisters and my brother and I slept in our trusty pup tent. It was a fun week consisting of all our meals outside over a campfire, walks to the outhouse and showers in the dark, a hike up Mt. Battie and huge baseball games with nine players on each side, with fathers calling the balls and strikes and umpiring the bases. That was a wonderful week, and I believe it was the only time I remembered Dad taking a full week's vacation and spending everyday with us. He was a worker.
A pile of new, Coleman sleeping bags always reminds of our week away.
Can't speak for the others.
But for me, it was the best.
ps. I still love my mummy... bag.