Urban Camping

August 15, 2009
Glad to be leaving Hayward. This campground has been crazy! The first night we were here, some people moved in across the “street.” There were about a billion little children who seemed to cry at the drop of a hat. Cry, cry, cry. Festive. They also felt the need to set up one of their tents right next to the fence, banging our truck with their tent poles and stuff as they did so. Later, after we were in our tents, a new bunch moved in across the other street (we were at the end of a street). It sounded like a family reunion or something. Clearly, it was a rude and inconsiderate family because it was dark out and past 11, which is the beginning of quiet time. These people had no clue what to do with the concept of “quiet.” We were treated to the saga of where to put the tent, as in, “What do you think, Chris? Where should we put the tent? It looks pretty level, but there could be a slight incline over here.” Then after awhile, “What do you think Chris? I think it's pretty level, but there could be an incline. Chris?” I am sure that Chris had run screaming from the campground by then. After this scintillating conversation, there ensued the endless repetition about what kind of sausage was available and how many of each. There were two blue cheese and one of a few other kinds. I was hoping that there would not be fights over the limited sausage supply. Stakes were pounded into the ground as the loud guy finally decided to leave the tent where it was, incline or not. Of course no night at the campground would be complete without a discussion about texting. Not about any specific text message, mind you, but just about texting. I had no idea that people could find this fascinating enough to discuss in loud tones in the middle of a campground in the middle of the night.
After finally falling asleep, I woke up the next morning with a completely blocked left ear and some sinus pressure. There were so many people jammed into the small space at the campground, each with their own fire pit. Everyone needed a fire for some unfathomable reason. It was hot, so why fire sounded like a good idea, I do not know. Wood smoke has a bad effect on me, so I was not surprised to wake up as I did. Fortunately for me, my friend, Doctor Ken, had given me some OTC allergy medicine that works well for him. When my head started to pound, I took a pill. I was feeling great in 15 minutes. Thank you, Ken!!
It's a good thing I didn't have to go through the day with a headache, because the Rude Family reunion would have done me in. People kept arriving. They—and several other people—kept their fires burning throughout the day. The loud discussions continued. And though some of the group tried to be considerate and walk around our campsite, a bunch of them kept walking straight through to get to the bathroom, instead of going around. It was like Grand Central Station. People constantly walking back and forth through our campsite, the children across the way crying endlessly, smoke everywhere—it was a zoo.
To add to the fun, our tent pole snapped. We had seen that it was cracked when we put up the tent and we went into town to see if we could find a replacement pole (unlikely) or a new tent (possible). We found neither, but I did get a pair of flip-flops for 99 cents and I came back and spent some happy time crocheting flowers out of some variegated sock yarn that I attached to the toe piece. Anyway, that afternoon, the pole snapped and Bill taped it and dug out some bungee cords. We attached these to either side of the broken pole and trees. It was enough to hold until we took down the tent. On our way to Iron Mountain, where we are now, we stopped at a Super K Mart in Ironwood (we are in iron country) and got a new tent on clearance. At least the timing was good.
Our cooler also bit the dust. It was leaking. Just a small leak, but I really didn't want to have it in the back of the truck when it sprung a big leak, so we left it there. We had it for almost 25 years, so it served us well. And Bill's backpack zipper seems to be shot, too. It's the one for the small front pocket, so he can still use it until he can find another one. He's had that for 12 years or so.
By the time night came, we were unable to muster up the energy to attend the clown show that the campground was putting on. But we could hear it and see the lights they used. The Rude Family had been playing catch—complete with family radar gun to measure the speed of the throws—on the road. Now, call me an old fuddy-duddy, but it seems to me that when there are people everywhere and cars parked in between, this is probably not the best place to encourage children to throw a hard ball around. OK, so they were only throwing at 33 mph, a factoid I knew because they had to announce—in the loudest possible voices, of course—the speed of each pitch. Still, I believe that this is why the campground provides a big field—so that people can play catch. Throughout our stay, other people seemed to have grasped this.
We were curious to see what would happen the second night. The tents were erected. The sausage was, presumably, eaten. There seemed to be little left to say about texting. What would they talk about? How would our neighbor feel about all of this? She had complained to Bill about their behavior on the previous night (it wasn't just me!). On this night, it was the lights. They sat around their campfire with lights blazing. Lights—bright lights—everywhere. Looked like headlights being beamed into the tent. The chattering continued, though pancakes seemed to be a topic of discussion instead of sausage. People kept walking back and forth through our site. It was hot. There were more fires than the night before. And on this night, campground security came and told the Rude Family to turn off the lights and be quiet.
The next morning we packed up and left for Iron Mountain in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We drove on Route 2. There were beautiful wildflowers on the side of the road, more foliage, and lots of trees. We drove alongside Lake Superior for a time. It was beautiful and it was far more peaceful in the truck than it was in the campground!

Where Are Your Manners?

July 11, 2009
Here I am at the Coeur d’Alene library. It is a lovely building--very airy and spacious. Lots of light. It’s air conditioned J The people seem very helpful. There is art everywhere. And as soon as you come in, there is a used bookstore that benefits the Friends of the Library. I’m sitting by a window and looking out at more public art and a bunch of green space. It’s too much grass, I will grant you that, but there are also trees with picnic tables underneath them in the shade. And best of all, there are people wandering around with armloads of books! This can only be a good thing! I continue to be amazed at how much people have invested in their community. I think that there are about the same number of people living here as in Klamath Falls, but the contrast is striking. I will admit that this place has many advantages--the scenery is beautiful--there is just a natural beauty here that Klamath Falls simply does not possess. And this is a kind of a destination to a larger degree than I imagine Klamath Falls is. Still, people are clearly making an effort to move forward and not just look backwards. Downtown is thriving, not dying. People seem involved.

There is a Farmer’s Market that sets up twice a week and another similar thing that sets up on yet another day. We went to the market this morning and many of the organic produce booths were just about sold out. There is a second Friday art walk. The whole vibe is different and I find it completely refreshing! And the people seem so friendly. Everywhere we go people are just extremely friendly. Lots of smiling faces and happy greetings.
The campground got busy last night as you would expect. Unfortunately one of the new arrivals is a little boy who seems to not understand the idea of manners or polite behavior. Last night he began to hang out a couple of feet from our tent. The creek runs by there. There are “public spaces” where he could have gone to look at the creek, but he had to do it there even though you’re not really supposed to be getting in other people’s space. Bill and I were in our tent and had to finally zip up the screen covering. Then he proceeded to run around with this flashing light thing while yelling. He continued this well after quiet time had begun. It was highly annoying to have this light flashing on the tent walls. Do I sound like an old fuddy-duddy yet? This morning was the clincher, though. He ran around our tent and stood a couple of feet away next to the tall grass on the creek bank. He proceeded to rummage around in his pants and urinate in the grass a few feet from our tent! I could not believe this and I wish now I has said something. Where are this boy’s adults? Has no one ever taught him that he is not the center of the universe and that a bit of consideration fro other people is a good thing?
Of course, I do not enjoy being around children, so I am not inclined to be amused by this kind of thing. And I have noticed that things seem to be way out of control in many cases. This does not hold true for everyone, of course, but I can remember being in the library and having parents tell their kids to place the books they wanted to check out on the counter. When they did this, they were praised as though they had just composed a masterpiece of music or something. “GOOD JOB!” their parents would exclaim. I used to want to ask whether this was really the response that was necessary. If you shout to the heavens every time your kid does the most mundane and basic things, they will get the idea that they must always get this kind of praise. And in he real world, as we all know, it is not forthcoming. That is not to say we shouldn’t tell people when they are doing something we appreciate or when we are impressed by something they have done or whatever. I try to do that on a regular basis. But I never once told an adult library patron, “GOOD JOB” when they handed me their library card! And I grew up on the other side of things where everything I did would be met with criticism. I am not advocating that, either. It simply seems to me that there must be some happy medium. And parents should always remember that their little darlings are not so darling to everyone. The older I get, the more I value consideration of other people and I thing that being polite is a good thing. And being polite does not include wandering into someone’s tent site and urinating!
I must say that being in these campgrounds is an amazing way to observe people and their behavior. I am now pondering all sorts of questions about why people do what they do!