By Glenda Price: CNJ columnist
When we were young and immortal, our family often camped out in a tent. A couple of times we decided two days in a row of warm weather in late winter meant it was time to go camping and fishing. The result was sometimes … interesting.
One spring another couple joined my husband and me — and our tent — at a pretty mountain trout lake. We got there way after dark on Friday evening, and with the help of headlights and flashlights got the tent set up, coffee made and supper cooked.
The tent was plenty big enough for all four of us to lay out our bedrolls, so we did. During the night my husband complained I was crowding him and he was freezing. I angrily yelled I was not crowding him, and I was the one freezing to death. The family “discussion” deteriorated from there — loudly.
Later, our guy friend said, “I had to get up and go get more wood — and we had plenty of wood.”
Morning finally came — still cold. I got my fishing pole, walked down to the lake, found a nice spot and cast out my line. Now and then a car went down the road on the other side of the small lake, and I waved at them. I caught a couple of nice trout and forgot about my “angries” from the night before. After a couple of hours my cousin who lived nearby showed up.