|Photo credit: PoloGoomba|
Every summer, my Aunt Bea bravely took a bunch of us cousins camping in upstate New York with only a friend or two or hers for backup. We knew we were getting close when we could tune the radio to FLY.
We'd all pile into a station wagon with a couple of the boys in the wayback-not actual backwards-facing seats, but just a flat area that really wasn't safe for sitting in, but it was the early 80s and people were less concerned about accidentally culling the herd back then.
I can't remember what kind of music they played, probably Top 40, something we could all stomach. One year, some cousins brought up a cassette of The Kinks' Come Dancing and that got a lot of airplay. The boys in the wayback pretended to be radio DJs: "This is WABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYandZ, your local POUGHkipsee radio station."
It was so cold in the mornings, and we'd stumble around in shorts and sweatshirts until we'd all had breakfast, the day started to warm up and it was time to swim in the ore pit, or hike up to the falls, or drive to the pond. In the evenings, we'd either watch a move behind the nature hut, or make s'mores.
We had the grownups outnumbered, yet we were all pretty well behaved.* On some level, we knew that Bea took us on these trips because she wanted to, and she could stop wanting to at any time, so we best stay in line.
*Let the record show that the only time we almost lost someone was the time that all the parents came along. A toddler wandered off and luckily, someone stopped him before he made it into the woods.