The Camper Club

This is not a high-society club, it’s not like a country club, it’s not even like a chess club. Growing up, my family camped in a pop-up camper all the time. When I say all the time, I truly mean all the time. Every weekend and most weeks in the summer. Several weekends and even some weeks throughout the school year, as well. I can remember camping, waking up, being driven to school, getting picked up, and going back to the camper. I remember camping when it was -17 degrees and we wore everything we packed and when it was 105 degrees in the shade and it was all we could do to sit as still as possible and sip lemonade.

We have been all around the Midwest in a station wagon with six people (yes someone sat between mom and dad in the front on the bench seat) and a dog in the “way back” towing the Starcraft behind. Needless to say, I don’t camp anymore. I love to sit by a good bonfire now and again but then I’m going to the local Hilton, taking a shower, and hopping into bed.

Some of the fond memories I have of camping are being part of a camper club. Yep, you heard me. Have you ever planned or organized events for a camper club? Me neither, but I have attended many in my formidable years. I was driving to my daughter’s house the other day and saw a caravan of trucks towing campers and it made me think back to the days when we’d meet up with our friends every weekend or for weeks at at time to swim, and fish, and canoe, and dance, and play Zim-Zam.

Someone would have planned these weekends and these were the days before cell phones and emails. They would have had to actually call each other or send letters in the mail. There were organized square dances complete with costumed dancers (who camped with us), teen dances on Friday nights, daily games all day Saturday for the kids, and a large dinner where everyone ate together at the pavilion and brought a dish to pass. The pavilion was usually decorated with Christmas lights and occasionally some flags and nuts (stay with me here).

A planner would have made sure everyone in the family had their camper club vest complete with club patch and that they got a patch every time the group met with another club for a rally. It was also very important that each family had their “Illinini (il-I-an-I) nutty nut” decorated and hung from the side of their camper in solidarity. This was a flat, wooden, acorn-shaped object that we decorated by family. These were as unique as the families in the club. Patch exchanges were a big thing and would have been organized for the adults while the kiddos played games.

These were years of relationships. These were years of being present in the moment. No cell phones. No tv’s. Swimming in the lake in a bandana and underwear because I forgot to pack my swimsuit. Looking forward to seeing my friends the next weekend because we couldn’t communicate during the week. Bonding with my sister because we shared a bunk every weekend. And, sitting by the fire wrapped in a blanket, skootching closer and closer as the night wore on, not even considering what it must have taken to get us there week after week.

Do you have a camping story? Send me an email, I’d love to hear it!

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