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The Swing of Death and Other Oddities

1. Recklessness Holds Sway.

Some attenders fiercely cling to traditional campout events, and being able to do them each year is vital to them.

The swing of death queries from Zeke started while we were driving.

“Can I go on the swing of death?”

“When are we going on the swing of death?”

“Josh, Laz’s Dad took us last year. Are you going to bring us this year?”

“Mr. Katsarelis has the key. An adult has to be present. When are we going on the swing of death?” He asked and asked and asked.

He asked relentlessly throughout the drive, throughout Friday night, and all day Saturday. He was most likely asking during my 4 hours of sleep, but the noise of the cicadas drowned him out.

Long ago, the death swing was more perilous with less straps and more ways to fall off to your demise. Now, unless your afraid of heights or it breaks under your weight, you are not likely to die at the end of it.

Zeke had worn me out with his asking by Saturday afternoon. Finally, I took him to the swing of death along with all the Manry children and other people’s children and fearless leader Mary.

They all had a go, even fearless leader Mary. Up until her swing, I was able to decline a turn, but where the fearless leader goes, I am compelled to follow.

However, Dylan, who is in Kindergarten, could not be convinced.

“Dylan, don’t you want to go on the swing of death?” I asked.

“No,” He replied.

“Maybe, you’ll go on it next year,” I said.

“No,” He replied.

“When do you think you’ll go on it?” I asked.

“Never!” He said.

2. Children Play With Fire.

Dylan may be afraid of the Swing of Death, but he has no fear of fire. He, his sister Shelby, and Zeke’s favorite activity during the campout was finding a stick in the woods, placing one end into the campfire until it lit, and swinging it around. This activity is most fun when it is very dark.

They did this morning, noon, and night and it was great fun until Dylan swung a little too enthusiastically and smacked his lip with the burning end.

I highly recommend bringing first aid kits with burn cream.

3. Stylish Clothing Not Required.

Prior to campout departure, we were all watching the remnants of Hurricane Isaac approach our location on the radar.

At 5am, on Saturday and Sunday morning, I lay in the tent counting the seconds after the lightening flash and before the thunderclap, praying God would send the storm elsewhere. Dale slept peacefully on. Having had 23 years of experience sleeping in a tent for the Army, he only wakes if there is an explosion.

At 6am, I got up and drank a cup of tea with Mac, who was wearing a Redskins poncho. James joined us shortly afterwards. He was wearing a shirt that hurts the eyes at any time of the day or night.

4. Outside Communication.

There is spotty cell phone service for some atop the mountain, but for most, they are cut off from communication.

Denise, who always has an ingenious solution, sent smoke signals to Bob back home to tell him what to bring with him on Sunday.

On Saturday morning, Fearless Leader Mary and I drove down the mountain road until my phone got a signal. We pulled off at a parking lot in the middle of nowhere.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“It’s a commuter lot,” she replied.

“A commuter lot? In the middle of nowhere? No way! That’s absurd,” I said.

There was one old pickup truck parked next to us. As we sat there receiving our messages, a car pulled up and dropped off a man who got into the truck and drove away.

“You were right,” I said, “How bizarre.” (Never doubt the fearless leader.)

We dubbed the lot the underlook, because it was below the beautiful misty hills.

We were so inspired by the view, we sent our partner in crime, The Robyn, an inspiring poem via text. Robyn had yet to arrive for her surprise visit. (Someone has to stay back and take care of the dogs.)

5. An Odd Church.

Not everyone was enthusiastic about going to church on Saturday Night. Dylan, for one, was not on board.

“Dylan, don’t you want to go to church?” They asked.

“No,” He replied.

“Why not?” They said.

“Mr. Dale is speaking,” He said.

I suppose Dylan figured he heard all Dale had to say in Children’s Church each month over the last three years. That was enough. Last year, his course of action was to sleep through campout church. This year, he arrived on his bike prepared for a quick escape.

From the picture I took, it appears Pastor Ted was objecting to the service a little more vehemently than Dylan.

The service was on a Saturday night, the preacher was wearing shorts, and we sang a song containing the lyrics “Scooby-dooby-doo-loo-yah.”

Still, I can’t imagine what was so objectionable.

Ask him when you see him. Especially if he comes to your house for Pastoral Visitation.