Regular Life

On the way to my parents’ house, Ben did what every small child should do. Aside: It’s great to be able to say “my parents’ house” again, because for about 20 years it was just “my dad’s house.”

He napped.

I grabbed my camera bags and Ben’s toy bag on the way in, figuring they were the priority items. Too bad I was so smart.

Ben’s cousin LC welcomed him with open arms, and of course everyone was doing flips when they saw me. About seven minutes after I started stretching my legs, we loaded into our cars and headed for my parents’ farm.

Outlaw Camp

Although Dad uses a good chunk of the land to grow grass for hay, dense forest covers most of it. It serves as the setting for their chapter of the Single Action Shooting Society, and offers up great trails for walking or wheeling. As if the people there weren’t enough, it makes me miss my first home.

With help from friends and family back in the 1990’s (and the sacrifice of a fingertip), Dad built a quonset hut with a finished out apartment tacked onto the east end.

The first thing to catch Ben’s eye was an unlikely fixture — a golf cart. A battery-powered model, Mom and Dad bought it used as a carry-all between the shooting range and the quonset. I wondered whether Ben remembered our suspenseful and nearly fateful first ride. Whatever the case, he couldn’t wait to get back in it. Little did I know it had all-terrain capabilities.

“You want to go for a ride in the golf cart?” his uncle Charles asked.

“Yes!” he said, in unison with LC. And, I must admit, me. In fact, if enthusiasm raised body heat, I would have set off thermal alarms. For some reason I’ve always enjoyed riding in a golf cart. Something about gliding along without any engine noise, I guess, like sailing on wheels.

Ben sat in my lap (which helped keep me warm), with LC on the seat between us and Charles. Our fearless driver flipped down the plastic windshield for a clearer view and we were off.

At the first creek crossing, the low point between two steep hills, I said, “We can drive through this?”

“You’ve never been out here in this thing?” Charles said.

“No.”

“This is no problem.”

We were “flattenin’ the hills” and “straightenin’ the curves” with such ease that I barely complained when my shoulder came within a few inches of the barbed wire fence.

I was glad it had been cool enough to knock the bug count down. Otherwise, we might have needed a toothpick to remove them from Ben’s front teeth.

After turning back to head for the quonset, Charles said, “You want to drive?”

“Sure,” I said. Ben and I switched spots with the other two.

“Go fast, Daddy!” Ben said.

I did.

When we returned, the boys leaped out of the cart and chased each other around in the field. I rarely get to let Ben run free without chasing him around, and it was good for both of us. For another nice breather, Dad took the boys for a second cart ride while the rest of us sat inside and talked.

“Where’s the pic goodness?” you may ask.

Remember the camera bags I took inside when Ben and I arrived at the house? They still sat exactly where I put them.

Ben and I stayed the night and the next day. Although it was only Friday, we staged an Easter egg hunt back at the house. The boys, still fresh off their recent visit, got accustomed to each other more quickly than usual, and shared some memorable happy moments.

Those plus video highlights — and that fairy story I promised — will have to wait. Feeling the self-discipline wash over me, I’m determined not to stay up until ridiculous hours just to cram it all into one post.

That said, here are a couple of short audio clips from Part 1 of this series (my recorder went missing for a few days). They convey things that I’m not skilled enough to express in words.

First, Ben and I get back on the road after our first break (and after his nap). Listen closely for the crunching of peanut M&M’s.

Next, Ben explains which M&M’s he’ll give to my parents, and gets a surprise.

For the above outtakes, I clipped one of my binaural mics on my shirt, the other on Ben’s, and plugged them into my trusty Olympus DS-20 digital voice recorder. Converted to .wav with Winamp, “cropped” and converted to .mp3 in Audacity (all completely free software).

Comments RSS