I like the food at camp

I like the food at camp.

You know. Salisbury steak, hot dogs, hot dogs cut in half rolled up in a biscuit. It’s all good.

That’s something.

As for the other things that people go to camp for – the campfires, the corny songs, the bunk beds, crafts, swimming, boating, woodland wisdom? Forget it.

My idea of camping involves a nice hotel, air conditioning, a pool, a good restaurant downstairs and a refrigerator to keep drinks cold.

Nevertheless I was happy to go to Grand Camp at Camp Alexander Mack in Milford with my wife Jennie and our grandson Jack. Jack is seven and loves camp. He grew up camping with his other grandparents. For that matter my wife Jennie also grew up camping. For their sakes I was glad to push myself outside my comfort zone.

Now the staff there was superb. It was their first church camp in two years and our small group of sixty or so was their shakedown cruise before the real work began the next week, with over two hundred and fifty guests to serve.

So forty-six hours, spread over three days and two nights. Two campfires. Six meals. A cinch.

Plus the food was fantastic. Wait. I said that

Of course you know it had to take place on the hottest weekend of the summer. It was ninety degrees that first evening, only the humidity made it seem much hotter as we sat outdoors around the campfire. Flames flew higher, making things worse. We were sweating and sweltering while kids learned the standard camp songs, which never change.

All I can say is the Grand Old of Duke of York may have marched ten thousand men up and down the hill, but a lot of us Grand Old Parents had trouble getting up and down off the bench without a lot of groaning and complaining. It’s what we grandparents do. Its part of our struggle to keep up with our grandkids.

Then out of the blue came a moment that made it all worthwhile

I was soaked with sweat as one staff member poured oil into the black cast iron oven. Another dumped in the popcorn. Two staff members hovered over the fire shaking the cast iron popcorn popper in their thermal gloved hands Kids were talking with each other, bragging, bickering, and bawling.

Suddenly the popcorn began to pop..

Eyes grew big as stray kernels caromed into the grass or sizzled falling back into the flames. The rare pops suddenly gave way to a torrent. Suddenly, with well-practiced motions the staff lifted the hot kettle and dumped the popcorn into a large cardboard box. Parents prepared to bag popcorn to distribute but first there was a long, strange silence.

Then finally there was a single voice, filled with wonder.

“I never saw that before.” Otherwise jaded kids who think they’ve seen everything were in awe. I had to remember that nowadays a lot of people buy their popcorn pre-popped and bagged at the grocery store, covered in caramel or cheese. They’d never even seen microwave popcorn. It was a revelation! Behold, there are some new things under the sun!

Forty-six hours later I was going home. I hardly slept the two nights it was so hot but I at least I was able to do some read9ing on my phone. Jack and I shared a canoe together and managed to escape dunking. I helped Jack make a candle during crafts. I watched him play in the park while I sat on an old rocker while I drank coffee early in the morning.

And I didn’t miss any meals.