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Camp, Camping, and Don’t Roll Your Eyes at Your Mother

Dear Kid,

I was casting around for a topic for today (there are no unauthorized wild animals living in the house at the moment).

Inspiration was not swimming in the pool I was casting in, or if it was I missed it.

So I started poking around my computer and found a bunch of letters I’d written to you when you were a wee thing and were away at Camp.

I read a few of them, and I have to say there is nothing brilliant there (at least in the ones I read). They were mostly ramblings about whatever I was doing (or not) at the time, what the Puppy was doing (or not) at the time, and what we were having (or not) for dinner.

So basically a lot like this blog except without the references to Mrs. Joe Neanderthal.

But the letters made me smile. Not because our dinner menus were all that interesting (most assuredly not) but because I know you enjoyed getting mail at camp. The letters were a little smile I could put in an envelope and send to you, knowing that you’d smile as you read them.

So basically a lot like this blog except without the in-depth reporting and research.

At one point I sent you a series of jokes in the letters. Here’s one that made me grin out loud (I did not write this):

Two young men were out in the woods on a camping trip, when they came upon a great brook, filled with trout. They stayed there all day, enjoying the fishing, which was super.

At the end of the day, knowing that they would be graduating from college soon, they vowed that they would meet, in twenty years, at the same place and renew the experience.

Twenty years later, they met and traveled to a spot near where they had been years before. They walked into the woods and before long came upon a brook. One of the men said to the other, “This is the place!”

The other replied, “No, it’s not!” 

The first man said, “Yes, I do recognize the clover growing on the bank on the other side.”

To which the other man replied, “Silly, you can’t tell a brook by its clover.”

I’m guessing you’re rolling your eyes the same way you did when I sent it to you all those years ago.

Hee-hee.

Love, Mom



This post first appeared on Dear Kid Love Mom, please read the originial post: here

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Camp, Camping, and Don’t Roll Your Eyes at Your Mother

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