My summer at camp purgatory - we baptists didn't believe in purgatory, but we weren't supposed to use the word hell in a bad way, either.
My granddaughter went away to church camp this week. I am certain she will have a great time, make great new lasting friendships, have a basketful of wonderful memories, and look forward to going to again next summer. That’s the way it should be. Assuming she doesn’t get poison ivy like I did. Anybody that knows anything about my childhood knows that I was not an easy living suburban kid. I grew up in the country. Although it wasn’t farm life, it was rural, and there were animals. Some of our animals were kept for food, like our rabbits and our beagles and our chickens and our pigs. The beagles weren’t edible, of course, but they did chase squirrels and rabbits for my dad to shoot and skin and fry up for supper. For a brief time in my early years, we drew water from a well, cut wood for heat, and took baths in a galvanized silvery colored tub. We got a phone when I was in first grade. It was the heavy black kind with a metal dial that buzzed on the way around and cl