Here in the South we have a long tradition of spending time in the great outdoors that God has blessed us with. We love it! Summers on the lakes and coasts. Winters at the deer camp. It's one of our traditions. We started as kids and pass it on to our own. There are sights and smells that we naturally connect with the outdoors. It's in our blood!
As much as I love the Summer, it's the Winter that holds a special place in my heart. Specifically because of the first time I took my boys camping. Now by camping I mean pitching a tent in my mothers backyard. The boys weren't quite ready for a night in the woods. So per their request, we would spend the night in the great outdoors in Mamaw's backyard. I treated it as a real trip. I loaded the cooler with jugs of water and capri suns. Hot dogs, potted meat and crackers, and marshmellows. I found wood for a fire and put up our tent. I had pool rafts with sleeping bags and three falshlights. Being as it was early December, I had the tent up and a good fire going about an hour before sundown. We were set and ready. The boys had on their camo and boots as of course I did. As the sun fell down behind the trees the excitement was palpable. Well mine was. I found good weenie roasting sticks and pulled out the buns and condiments from the cooler. In true outdoorsman style we feasted on processed foods and jug water. After out bellies were stuffed to capacity, the marshmallows were brought out. A few mishaps and flaming sugar balls later, my boys had the art of roasting marshmallows to perfection tucked into their outdoor skills. Then it got to my favorite part; staring at the fire and telling stories.
My youngest son started first. His was a tale of spun from the mind of a 5 year old. There was the obligatory monster in the woods and the hapless campers. As the story progressed, in a rambling kind of way, the tension built. Then as the story was at its heights, Mamaw opened the back door and yelled, "Y'all okay?" The moment was gone. I responded in the positive. Now my oldest son took center stage. The tall was of an axe wielding murderer recently escaped from the "looney bin." Again the hapless campers were present. The blood thirsty murderer slowly crept to the campsite. The campers were totally unaware of the doom closing in. The door swung open on the porch. "Are y'all too cold," Mamaw bellowed across the backyard. I answered in the negative. Another golden moment of campsite terror lost. Sigh.
Now my turn. I started my story of blood chilling horror with the opening phrase, "Y'all know there is an old cemetery in the woods with a train track right by it?" My boys were captive. One simple line held them frozen. I was loving it. I continued my tale with brakemen swinging lights in the woods looking for lost bodies. The phantom train that rain through the woods like a fire breathing dragon from Hades would shake the ghosts from their cold tombs in the nearby graveyard. I was building up to that sweet moment where I would turn on my flashlight and shine it in their eyes scaring the breath from them. Then the unexpected happened. From somewhere off in the distance, a lonely conductor pulled the chain on his engine bringing to life the sound of a train signaling it was at a road crossing. I couldn't have planned it better. My boys leapt to their feet and ran towards the back door like a pack of wolves were on their heels! With a jerk of the door and a slam resounding, I knew I had done my job. I had given my boys a memory they would always remember. Their first true campfire ghost story. I sat basking in the warmth of the fire. A few moments later my mother opened the door. I could see her head shaking in disapproval. She walked to the backyard campsite and flatly stated, "There are two scared boys buried in the covers of my bed. Thanks." All I could do was laugh. She asked if I was going to sleep outside. Well of course I was. She said goodnight. As I sat there holding onto the moment I realized I had passed on a tradition. My boys would one day do the same with their kids. After all, they are Southern Hooks.
Stay Southern, Hooks.
JD
