Wow!!! So, who knew that a few gentle thoughts expressed about camping would strike such a nerve. I think I got more comments about that than I have ever had on any post before. That was sort of fun. Maybe next week, I'll write something about Harry Reid or Twilight just to see if I can break 30!


This morning, I woke up very early (5:40) and exercised for 30 minutes. How cool is that? I feel really good, too. No doubt I was capable of this amazing feet because all of the character building I got from eating Mexican food on Saturday night, which was the reward I gave myself for enduring camping. 


So, you are all anxious to hear about how the camping went, right? Of course right. (What play is that from?)
To start out with, it was beautiful weather--gorgeous, in fact. That was nice. One of the guys there asked me if didn't have to admit that it was fun being together with the guys. To which I replied, "Yes, but we can do this at Steak and Shake, too." Another happy camper pointed out that the post-campout nap feels so incredible. To which I observed, "Yes, but the reason it feels good is because you are exhausted from a really crummy night's sleep." 


The other thing I noticed is that all the heavy-duty campers have all these gadgets and gizmos that enable them to have all the conveniences of home--cool mattresses and nifty lights and so on. This begs the question--if you are excited to be in nature, why do you feel compelled to spend money to buy as many things to help you feel at home as possible?Riddle me that.


Anyway, Meredith came and met me after work on Friday. She had a car laden with equipment and sons. We switched cars and took off.  Meredith to blissful quiet and comfort of our home, me to the excitement of camping! Woo-hoo!


Now, let me interject something at this point. The entire and only reason I consented to this event was that I wanted to be a good dad (especially since I don't anticipate Social Security will exist when I retire, so I'll need a place to live in my dotage). My three sons (one had to go to a school thing, leaving three) all wanted to go. The younger two were just excited about camping and Mere assured me that they would have a wonderful time romping around, free and happy like little ponies, running to and fro with their friends (she didn't phrase it quite like that). My teenager was looking forward to a repeat of last year's intense game of capture the flag.


We drove about an hour and go there about 7:30. The boys got out and ran around. About 20 minutes later, my 3 year old came up and told me he was tired and wanted to go to bed. So much for romping. I went and got him in the tent, all snug and comfy, then stayed with him while he fell asleep.  


When he was asleep, I emerged from the tent.  There was my 8 year old. He, too, was tired and ready for bed. So, I put him in bed and went to bed, too.  So much for romping.


And, since there were not many other teenagers (their fathers being too smart to fall for the "they'll have so much fun" line, I guess), there was no--wait for it--capture the flag!


Happily, my good friend let us stay in his tent because I forgot to mention another thing I hate about camping. You set up the tent, then you sleep in it, the you pack it up, then you go home and set it up again to let it dry off and air out, and then you pack it up again. In other words, for one night's sleep you set it up twice and take it down twice. That is an efficiency rate that would make even an employee at the DMV blush.


So, we stayed in his tent so he is the one who had to do all the setting up and taking down twice. He also made a wonderful breakfast the next morning.

Then we went home. And I took a nap, which did, I admit, feel good. However, my naps always feel good anyway, so I'm not convinced. 

That night, I sat out on my deck. I looked out the beautiful woods, with the sun setting above the trees. I inhaled the sweet air and basked in the evening cool.  I felt close to God and was filled gratitude for living in such a beautiful place. I typed as much on my Facebook status, which was possible because of electricity and wi-fi.  Then I walked inside. And enjoyed Mexican food.  And life was good. Inside and out. 

All right, everyone. You want "authentic?" Boy are you going to get it today! Before you read any farther into my grumpy, petty, trivial rant, take a moment and think about something. Think about the fairly routine thing in your life you have to do that you just HATE. The thing that shouldn't bother you as badly as it does, the thing that everyone else does without complaint, or even likes, but you can't stand. The thing that, for whatever reason, you can't abide. The thing that ties your insides up in knots while marinating you in a steady stream of anxiety, resentment, and frustration. You hate this activity/task and you know that your hatred is not rational--but nevertheless, you hate it.
 
I know some people who feel this way about washing windows. Others who feel this way about babysitting, or cleaning their desk or doing the monthly sales report. The list is long and varied, I'm sure. Let me tell you about mine.

I hate to camp.

I don't dislike it. I hate it. 

I hate it with a fervid, burning passion that is as great as the level of irrationality involved. I know I shouldn't hate it, but I do. I know it's silly to hate it so badly. I know it makes me into a sort of caricature.  But I still hate it.  Hate it, hate it, hate it!!!!

The thing is, it's not that I hate bugs are am scared of bear attacks or something. There's no reason for my hatred of camping. It's just something that is a part of me--so there's not way of addressing it. I hate everything about camping--it's a perfect gestalt of misery in which the hellish whole is far greater than the sum of its parts. I hate camping like I love my wife--a zillion little things and experiences all add up to something I feel deeply in multiple dimensions: emotionally, physically, spiritually, etc. 

So, the solution is simple, right? Don't go camping. 

Hah! Good one.  You must not know much about Mormons.

See, Catholics have seven sacraments (I think that's right--it's been a while since I took world history. If I'm off on that, I apologize). Mormons have sacraments too, except we call them ordinances and consider them essential for salvation.  Baptism, the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, Marriage...oh, and Camping.

I'm not sure what it is about Mormons and camping. See, one of our foundational books of scripture, The Book of Mormon, tells about a family that was warned to flee Jerusalem in 600 B.C. right before it was destroyed.  They went and wandered in the wilderness and the narrator of the record says, "My father dwelt in a tent." Here's the thing, though.  It wasn't a good thing. They were fleeing for their lives and they almost starved and there was a lot of family problems. It wasn't like they went camping for fun. I also want to point out that "My father dwelt in a tent" and "Go and do thou likewise" are not in the same chapter, book or even volume!

And of course, our other foundational book of scripture is the Bible and that tells about the delightful 40 year camping trip Moses and the Israelites went on.  Yes, it was better than slavery and death in Egypt, but it wasn't exactly fun.

More recently, the Church was founded in 1830. Shortly thereafter Mormons left up-state New York and gathered in Ohio where they were beaten and persecuted, so they fled to Missouri.  Where they were beaten and persecuted and it was actually legal to kill them.  So they fled to Illinois and built a city.  After several years, they were hated and persecuted again and walked to Salt Lake, literally walked, camping along the way.

Here is my question. Did we, as a church, not get enough of camping on the march from New York to Ohio?  Ok, still want more? Fine.  How about the journey from Ohio to Missouri? No, more? Serious? Ok, how about from Missouri to Illinois?  Ok, that was fairly short really, just a trip across a frozen river.  How about we camp from Illinois to Utah? 

I note that never in the history of the Church is there an account of any Church leader saying, "Hey folks, camping is a great thing!  Forget about building another city. How about we just stay in these swell tents?" Nope. They built homes and cities. I don't think they liked camping. 

My pioneer ancestors were forced to camp far more than they wanted to and they handled that sacrifice with grace and dignity. I hope, should some terrible combination of circumstances force me to do the same that I would have the same degree of fortitude and courage.

But, that doesn't mean I have to like doing it voluntarily. For fun. You see, never in the recorded history of God's dealing with his people has camping been a good thing. Nope. It's been a way to survive when bad things happen. That's why I feel it's better to honor our ancestors by NOT camping. It's what they would have done if those stupid mobs hadn't chased them out of their comfortable homes. Doing voluntarily what was forced on them just seems wrong. 

Sadly, I am the only one in the Church who feels this way. And so, Mormons camp. Scout camp. Girl's camp. Handcart Treks. Father's and Son camps. Ward camps...it goes on and on. 

In all seriousness, I love the Church. I believe the doctrines and teachings and so the cultural practice of camping is a small price to pay for the eternal blessings of being a member.

Here's the thing that really gets me, though. We all have to do things we don't like and I get that. So I'll be obedient, I'll be a good soldier and go camping. I'll be there. But I won't enjoy it. And for darned sure, I won't rhapsodize about how great it is and talk about camping in almost spiritual terms. 

I hate listening to people talk about how they feel closer to God and so forth.  You know what? That's fine. I believe you.  More power to you.  Camp all you want. But don't drag me along. I don't feel closer to God when I camp. In fact, I feel farther because I hate camping so much. I feel closer to God when I listen to beautiful music or read my scriptures. When I work in my garden or play with my children. I don't impose that on you though--I don't make you all come work in my garden or listen to the Vivaldi Gloria simply because I feel closer to the Lord. 

This is probably what bugs me most. It's sort of lame that you get to do the things you like and would do anyway and get to say it makes you feel closer to the Lord and it builds character and so on.  That's a crock. If you love camping, then it doesn't build character. 

Let's just be honest. I love Mexican food. I'd eat it 24/7 if I could. If I were to say it builds character, I'd be lying. It doesn't. I just like it. Doing something you like is not character building--it's fun. That's why you do it. 

So, tonight, I'm going camping. Someone told my sons about a father and son camp we're having. So, my choice was to be a terrible dad or go and do my duty and try to help them have a good time. I'm going. And I'm not going to complain or murmur. I'll put on a smile. But I'll be miserable. I won't feel closer to the Lord. But I guess it will build my character.

Saturday night, though, I'm getting Mexican food and listening to Vivaldi.