Gather 'Round the Fire...

I forget what, exactly, reminded me of it the other day, but I was brought back to the campfire at the Cub Scout overnight. It was a chilly night, so we got a good roaring fire going in the big fire pit in the center of the campsite. Throughout the night, folks dragged their chairs up for warmth and camaraderie, and people kept the fire going throughout the night as the temperature dipped into the low 20s.

At one point at some indeterminate hour of the morning, I awoke to answer nature's call. As I picked my way back from the latrine to the tent, I saw the fire blazing brightly, a beacon of warmth that beckoned to me and bade me tarry a moment. I shuffled over to bask in the warmth of the burning embers, and greeted several other campers also huddled around for warmth.

As we sat there silently, I reflected on how this scene could easily be thousands of years old. Human beings, huddled against the elements, a roaring fire their only defense against the developing cold. It struck me how primitive the yearning for fire and warmth was, and I realized that one of the consequences of modern living is that we lose that quest for fire. We don't have reason to face just how fragile we humans are when exposed to the elements.

It's nice to be reminded of that frailty without staring into the gaping maw of a larger predator.

Looking back, camping and campfires have always been a part of my life. As a young child, my folks had a series of tents and campers, and we often would spend weeks camping over the summer. As we grew older, and more dependent on creature comforts, the camping trips turned into hotel trips or beach house trips, but I found myself drawn back to the basics: a tent, a stove, and a campfire.

I'm glad my son enjoys camping. I love sharing the outdoors with him, and I cherish the time we spend together in the Scouts. I know it won't be long at all before he's too cool to go camping with his dad, so I intend to wring every second I can out of this narrow window in time. This coming summer I hope to take him camping to some of my old haunts, places where nature is still wild, subdivisions have not conquered, and the campfire still flickers late into the night.

Heck, I might even break out the guitar. Of course, only if I have trouble starting the fire...

That is all.