A Mid-Summers Campfire

I wonder what it is about a campfire that warms the heart like nothing else can. The smell of the wood burning, and the smoke that all too often gets in your eye, no matter where you decide to sit. The kids were bugging me for some time to have a fire so they could roast marshmallows and cook some wieners. It was a cool summer night and I thought to myself why not.
I asked the kids to gather some of the loose twigs and branches from around the property and stack them near the side of the house. Brooklyn, being the oldest, took charge and gave Leonard, who is one day younger, some simple instructions concerning the task at hand. Leonard who is quite lazy and somewhat laidback about most things used his seniority and asked Ashley, the youngest, to help him.
After Ashley gathered all the wood, Brooklyn took it upon herself to make a fire pit while Leonard decided to look in on Debbie to see how the goodies were coming. Ashley helped me scrunch up some paper and arrange the kindling for our fire. As the sun was setting for the day we set out some chairs and gathered some green sticks for roasting stuff on. When everything was ready we lit the fire, and as if on cue Debbie magically appeared with a tray of hotdogs, condiments, and a large bag of marshmallows...the Earl (my slightly over weight Jack Russell Terrorist) was on her every move and refused to take his eyes off the platter regardless of the danger lurking a paltry three inches from his stout legs. Oblivious to his surroundings he inadvertently caught the end of his leash on a rake that was resting by the wall of the garage. The metal dragged across the cement floor creating a screeching noise alerting the Earl of the approaching danger and as he turned he gave an ominous growl that may have been quite convincing were it not for the terror reflected in his eyes. The rake handle came down giving the Earl a well timed clout on his broad posterior and he was off like a bat out of hell...with the rank in tow! However, it was a short trip; about fifteen feet I would say before he reached the end of the leash, did a flip, and headed out of sight into the garage with the rake in hot pursuit. There was one heck of a commotion coming from around the corner. One can only imagine the battle taking place just a few inches away, while outside hysterical laughter filled the evening air. After a few moments of barking and general mayhem, peppered by the sound of crashing tools, paint cans, and other miscellaneous clattering, the Earl emerged as if nothing had happened and proceeded to the festivities by the glowing light. I patted the clumsy clod on the head and said, “Well done ol’ boy, you still rule the kingdom with an iron grip I see!”

Leonard was sharpening sticks with his new penknife and was quite proud of the point he managed to achieve. It was about twelve inches long and about as thick as a toothpick. “Just look at this thing Dave.” Leonard said, leaning back in his chair. “Ya know I’ve been carving since I was about two years old. That’s when I got my first knife ya know. Course, back then I had to get some help carvin sticks and all.”
“That a fact,” I said. “You know...you might want to watch you don’t go too thin on that stick. It might not hold the weight of a hotdog. Of course that’s only my opinion.” I no sooner got the words out that the point on the stick broke off.
“Aw...scuttlebutt, blast!” Leonard whined.
“Oh, Leonard, you’re hilarious...hahhhhahhhahhhaha!” raved Brooklyn. “You just break me up...such a klutz.”
“Look on the bright side.” I quipped. “At least you still have a point on that thing.”
“Ya I guess, whatever!” Leonard retorted, looking like he lost his best friend.
Brooklyn broke in, “Well, I could have told you that was going to happen.”
Ashley said, “When do we eat?”
“Right now,” said the Earl with his eyes. “Somebody be a good chap and fetch me a hotdog, will ya?”
“Right now” said Deb, “everybody grab a hotdog and away you go.”

Before we knew it the sun was setting. Leonard hadn’t had a thing to eat and was still trying to sharpen another stick while the rest of us had finished our hotdogs and were moving on to the marshmallows. Of course toasting marshmallows is a fine art and the amateurs in our tiny group were easily weeded out and identified by the miniature bonfires on the ends of their sticks.
Brooklyn said, “I burn mine on purpose! Then I like to peel off the burnt areas like a banana...yummy.” After watching her peel her marshmallow I decided that she still needed a few more years of training. Debbie had hers down to a fine science. “First you need to find where the hottest coals are, no flames, and just rest your stick near the coals.” She said, and gave us a fine demonstration. My mouth watered at the sight of the golden brown nugget and I put my eighth marshmallow on for another try. Ashley just put them on, burnt them and then popped them in her mouth. After three black coals she said she didn’t want anymore.
With his stick finally carved to perfection, Leonard tried to fit a hotdog on the end. We all heard the sickening snap and the ensuing comments followed by a large groan from the Earl as Leonard’s hotdog fell into the flames.
“I could have told ya that was going to happen LeoNurd...oh my, you break me up...you’re so silly...blah blah blah.....” laughed Brooklyn.
“Ah....shaaaddap!” muttered Leonard, “it’s not my fault...the stick was faulty!”
“Debbie, would you mind putting a hotdog on a stick for Leo before we have a third option besides hotdogs and marshmallows for roasting.” I said sarcastically.
When Leonard finally got his hotdog roasted he squirted some ketchup over the side of the bun and right into the Earl’s ear. If you have ever seen a dog chase his tail, you should see one chase his ear...not a pretty sight.
Things had settled down a wee bit and Brooklyn was poking the fire with her stick and waving a trail of smoke here and there, spelling her name in the air. I thought to myself what a great time this is. Everyone was staring at the fire, the stars above glittering in the heavens, the crackle of the fire was soothing to our ears, the silence of the night sky almost deafening. It is a times like this I like to reflect on life and ponder things. I remember my youth sitting around such a fire as this and talking with friends long into the night on topics like God, why are we here, what is life all about...and what about aliens...are we alone in the universe? I like to think back about my life. Has it amounted to much, would I do anything different if I had my life to live over, and what would I do if I won the lottery and had millions to spend? Ah, I was lost deep in thought when suddenly I was summoned back to reality by a squeaky voice sounding like a rusty hinge.
“Ya know Dave, my mom called me Brooklyn for a reason. I was named after the Brooklyn Bridge in New York! And Brooklyn Cement! And the Brooklyn River.”
“Oh ya” chimed Leonard, “do ya know why my parents called me Leonard?”
“I can’t imagine.” I teased.
“Well, they named me after Leonard Lake, eh!”
I just about lost it! I’ve lived in the Muskokan region for quite a few years and I’m reasonably familiar with some of the local lakes. Leonard Lake is small, landlocked, and not what I would call a tourist attraction by any means...more like a breeding ground for mosquitoes if you ask me. Why the Sam Hill would anybody what to name their kid after a lake?
“Ah, that’s nothing to be proud of...Leonard Lake what a joke...good grief, blah, blah, blah....!” Brooklyn droned.
Leonard continued, “Actually, Leo means lion, did you know that? I’m the king of the jungle! Well, not really, actually, I’m better known around those parts as the king of the pickles!”
“I hate pickles.” Ashley blurted.
“What do you think about that Dave?” said Leonard.
“You leave me speechless my little friend. I’ll have to consider this for awhile.” I said, trying to hold back my mirth.

And so our conversation continued long into the night. We laughed, we talked, we ate, and we laughed some more. Finally, Deb called the kids to come in and get cleaned up for bed. I stayed at the fire enjoying a few more minutes of solitude, scratching the Earl on his head and listening to a chorus of frogs in a nearby pond. My hand found its way to a moist spot at the back of his ear...I rubbed the ketchup in a bit more. The Earl looked on with moderate approval.
As I get older, sometimes I wonder if I’m really making a difference for these kids. I know there is more to life than just eking out a living, it’s not necessarily about a job or how big my house is or my bank account because when I’m gone...those things will disappear too.
I looked at the Earl. He looked at me like somehow I had the answer and his eyes beckoned me to say something.
“Maybe you hold the answer and just don’t realize it,” I whispered to the Earl. “Perhaps you have known the answer all along.” I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one heard me talking to the dog. “If humans could only learn to love unconditionally and be as faithful like a simple dog, I think the world might be a better place to live...don’t you?” I waited for some kind of intelligent retort but the Earl only groaned and stretched. Then he waddled over to his water dish and lapped the whole bowl. After a few minutes he flopped down beside me and, as his custom is after a vigorous lapping, let out an enormous belch!
“Oh bother...common boy, let’s call it a night.”

" Lionheart
~

Oh, my! You have given me a hearty laugh before calling it a night! It started with your Jack Russell Terrorist and continued with Leonard's 12-inch toothpick thin point on his roasting stick! Yet beneath all the laughter run so many other emotions. The kindness and compassion of you and Deb in caring for these kids, the sadness that for some unfortunate reasons they have had to be placed in foster care, the teasing yet friendly camaraderie they seem to have developed with each other and with you...and in the end your ponderings on the meaning of life that you share with your unconditionally loving canine.

All in all, you have given us yet another heartwarming account of a day in your life, and I, for one, am all the richer for it.

Thank you~~flutter~~

Lionheart,
I think you've got life figured out - at least the important things.

Thanks for a really great read.

Ramona

Lionheart ... wow.

You certainly know how to tell a terrific story!
This one seems to contain just about everything: humour, excitement, family life, existentialist philosophy, and a healthy tug at the heartstrings.

I do enjoy your real-life narratives. They always leave the reader feeling enriched in several respects.
Great stuff, Big Cat Man.

Jane

Thanks my friend, you’ve jogged my memory to the camping trips where all the kinfolk would get together at Creve Coeur Lake.

Of all the things we as parents think we haven’t done, it’s the little things that influence
a child’s life. Memory making makes for a good heart and it shows in your campfire story.

Jack

This is funny Lion! I too experienced quite the marshmallow experience with a group of Sparks (4,5, and 6 years old). Their comments made the whole experience worthwile!
Kat

FB...as always, thanks for your encouragement my dear friend. Sometimes I reread some of these stories and I think; boy have I got a lot to learn, what the heck was I thinking?

Anyway, it’s always refreshing to know I have brought a laugh or moved someone to think about life.

Ramona...thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed.

I’m not sure what your understanding of life is, (but you seem to have a pretty good handle on things from my perspective) but it seems just when I think I’m getting it together the rug comes out from under me. Anyways, I hope I live long enough to figure some of it out.

Jane...I always appreciate your replies, while forever heartening you seem to pull out the essence of my writing that I’m never sure I communicate very clearly. Thanks for telling me how you see it...for which I’m continually grateful. ~ Big Cat Man...(I like that!)

Jack...ol chum, I find the older I get the more jogging my memory needs. Perhaps the more we older folk share our stories, the less jogging we’ll have to do...ah, probably not!

Kat...ah yes, kids and campfires can be a howl to be sure...as long as those sparks don’t get too big for their own good...hehehe!!!

Thanks for dropping by.

“ Lionheart
~

Lion, just read your campfire reminiscence and it brought back some wonderful memories of campfire experiences of my own.
Truly a good campfire is one of my favorite things in life and there is nothing better than some good company to go with it.
Thanks for sharing this with us.


Babs

Well I read this a time or two befo I decided what it is that I like about it. What I like about it is every thing. It is right good stuff to read. It borders on damn good stuff. It is up to snuff without the spit!!

The campfire is a companion of the soul.