Our annual family Memorial Day camping trip saw us returning to the two adjacent campsites at Raccoon Creek where we used to go camping with friends who have—in the past few years—assured us of their joining us before subsequently flaking. (I’m a Gen Xer, and I love my generation, but don’t rely on us for much of anything; Millenials are far more dependable.) It’s sad when old traditions come to an end, but at least we’ll be free in the future to take our Memorial Day trip to someplace wilder than Raccoon Creek. The mixed-race family with whom we used to camp were uncomfortable with all the Confederate flags and Trump signs that bedeck the countryside en route to better camping destinations. I wonder if the folks who decorate their property with such things know or care that most of the world sees them as symbols of racism and hate? Alack a day for 21st century America. At least this grand old fellow rises above the hubris and the noise of our modern political discourse. This wild turkey graced our campsite frequently at Raccoon Creek—just to add a note of decorum and woodland splendor to the proceedings.
Will continue to read from time to time but during sabbatical will refrain from commenting.
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