Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson go on a camping trip. After a good dinner, they retire for the night, and go to sleep.

Some hours later, Holmes wakes up and nudges his faithful friend. "Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

"I see millions and millions of stars, Holmes" exclaims Watson.

"And what do you deduce from that?"

Watson ponders for a minute.

"Well, astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful, and that we are a small and insignificant part of the universe. What does it tell you, Holmes?"

And Holmes said: "Watson, you idiot, it means that somebody stole our tent.

 

I love camping...up to a point. I'm not a backpacker or a sleep-on-a-tree-limb kinda guy, but give me a tent with a sleeping bag and some padding and I truly enjoy it.

 

But camping when nothing goes wrong is just plan boring. Sure, the scenery is splendid and the solitude is relaxing, but after a day or 2 of that it all pretty much lumps together.

 

What makes a camping trip memorable is when things go horribly wrong, or at least moderately wrong. but it's got to be something that you can't fix with duct tape.

 

I remember one camping trip to Death Valley, my favorite place to go in the early Spring, in 1970. My friend and I got to Furnace Creek in the late afternoon because my car over-heated on the trip. The old dear survived okay, but we had to wait until someone came by to give us a lift to get more antifreeze. I had a water bag, but didn't want to chance it without the antifreeze, too. Nights in Death Valley get pretty cold.

 

Anyway, we got there kinda late so we had to hurry to get the tent up. Out there, when the sun goes down all you can see are stars. All of Earth is pitch black unless the moon is out. We had a Coleman gas lantern, but the little filament basket (the thing that glows) broke on the ride out. Those things are really fragile. We learned to always carry a few spares after that.

 

We just started to set up an hibachi to cook dinner with the little light that dusk provided us when I saw a cloud at ground level rolling towards us. As the wind kicked up and the cloud got closer, we figured out it was a sand storm. We picked up all the big rocks we could find and used them to anchor down the sides of the tent. We gathered up the food we just broke out, a couple cans of chili, a can of tamales, some hot dogs, a Thermos of now-cold coffee  and a bag of Oreos (hey, camping is NOT about healthy meals) and went inside the tent. That bright idea lasted about 2 minutes. There was sand flying around everywhere!

 

Luckily, the car was right at our camp so grabbed the food and ran back to the car.

 

How our 2-man tent survived is beyond me. Good ol' Army Surplus! As we sat in the car wrapped up in our sleeping bags watching Auntie Em's cow fly by, we started to get hungry. There was sand in everything. To this day, I can't eat chili or an Oreo cookie without remembering the grit.

 

And it was COLD! Here is was about 5PM and it was down in the 40's already. I turned on the radio and the only station I could find was a talk station. People were calling in names of old folks' games like Walk-Scotch, Hide-and-go-Sleep, Spin the hot water bottle.

The wind blew sand around ALL NIGHT! Keep that in mind because later on it will explain another catastrophe.

 

The next day went along pretty well. We did some hiking and bike riding. We even go to eat non-abrasive food. That night I blew up my air mattress. And when I say "blew" it up that's exactly what I mean. I didn't have an electric air pump or even a foot-operated pump. It was just me and my lips and my lungs. Feeling a bit light-headed from the hyper ventilating, I unfolded my sleeping bag, crawled in and conked out. Some time around 2 AM I woke up sore all over. The air mattress has a slow leak and was flat as a pancake and the ground unforgiving.

 

I rummaged through my camping stuff looking for a patch, but no luck. So I figured I'd blow up the mattress and get a few more hours before the thing got all depressed again. It took me about 30 minutes to blow it back up. I went back to sleep.

 

One hour later I was back on the rocks again. It seems the leak was not a slow one at all. It just developed later than I thought. I gave up and spent night number 2 in the back seat of my car.

 

I won't stretch this entry out much longer. Maybe I'll post more excepts from the journal I kept back then.

 

Our trip home was a very expensive one. We got most of the way home when the rear right wheel started making so very loud noises. There was a SCREEEECH! followed by a BANG! We pulled over and walked to a pay phone down the road. We called a garage and the owner came out to tow us to his shop. It turned out the bearing got sand in it and broke. Remember the sand? The guy didn't have the bearing, but, what do you know? His brother across town had one and would give us a great deal on it.

 

The bearing was replaced. We handed over an ungodly amount of money and drove out of the garage. Ten feet into the street and BANG! The other bearing broke. Once again, Herb's brother had one and would give us a really good deal especially, since we were return customers.

 

I had Herb clean and re-grease the two front bearings. Again, we handed over an ungodly amount of money and left. We even made it home that night.

My youngest daughter got married last Saturday. It was a very beautiful event. Most of it seemed to just fly by. I guess being the father of the bride gave me so much to think about that it was hard to take it all in. My baby actually becoming a wife, the expense (I'll be paying for this for years to come. Or at least it feels that way), seeing two very dear family members that live on the other side of the country...

 

But there is one thing I remember every little detail about. The Father-Daughter Dance. Sure, I knew it would be very special. I'm an emotional guy when it comes to my family. Saying Grace at a holiday meal chokes me up ever since my own dad died. So I was ready for the watery eyes. My oldest daughter whispered to me that her sister had a surprise for me. I had no idea what she meant.

 

The dance was announced, and I got to my feet and walked the few steps to the dance floor as my daughter walked around the bridal table to meet me. I took her hand and she said, "Daddy, the version of this song is a bit peppy, but it was the best one I could find." Still no clue.

 

Then the music started playing. The crowd was applauding so it was hard to hear the music. I finally picked up a few bars. It was Ray Charles singing "You Are My Sunshine". So what's the big surprise, you ask. That was the song I sang to my daughter when she was a little baby. When she got old enough she would sing it with me.

 

The tears started flowing just like the wine was. My heart was filled with love so much that it ached.  The lyrics really aren't what you would expect for a father-daughter dance. They are actually rather said. If you are not familiar with the song, I'll sum it up by saying it is sung by a person who has been separated from his loved one.

 

Now that I think of it, maybe it is more appropriate than I figured. My responsibility to take care of her, protect her, shelter her will never totally end, but now it is her husband's duty.

 

It's a tough thing for me to realize.

I saw a commercial for microwave popcorn (which all are an abomination to true popcorn lovers as I confess to be) in which the little girl hosting a tea party with her dolls and stuffed animals refuses to let a couple adult males share her popcorn. "Tea party!" she insisted.

 

The next shot was with the girl and the big guys sitting at a child's table having a tea party, hats, feather bollas and all. Ah, the power of that brand of popcorn.

 

Yeah, right! Here is what I saw...

 

The little girl was hosting an imaginary tea party, and her daddy and maybe her uncle joined in just because they wanted to, not because of the temping popcorn. It brought back a flood of memories that I hope I can cherish til I die. My two girls had many a tea party. Once in awhile, they would extend an invitation to me. I was thrilled! The two angels of my life wanted me to share in their imaginary tea party. What higher praise could a daddy get?

 

The chairs were Munchkin-sized. The tea cups were mere thimbles in this giant's awkward hands, but the magic was all around us. With the first tilt of the teapot, the living room became a 5-star hotel. The tea party was suddenly the most elegant gathering of only the best of society ( except for my humble presence).

 

"Daddy! you NEVER put your spoon on the table! Put it on the saucer!"

 

"Did you know that Sally adopted the cutest little kitten? She found it stuck in a drain pipe. It's now so fat and fluffy, I just know it will grow up big and strong because she loves it just like Mommy and Daddy love us."

 

"Tommy said he's doing much better reading now that the teacher knows he mixes up letters."

 

"Daddy, thank you for coming to our party. It's always so much fun having you sit with us."

 

By then I was wiping my eyes a lot and mumbling about hay fever. But those moments will remain with me long after the last Super Bowl game plays out...the last job promotion comes through...the last deadline is met or not.

More's the pity! the email address for Mr. Brockman is no longer in service. If anyone knows how to get in touch with this genius I'd be ever so grateful to have that information.