It's hard to believe the camp traditions of past of most died.
I can't imagine what 15-20 year old wouldn't love being around a bunch of 60 year plus old men. Busting the kids nuts, telling them how it use to be, how bad the new generation is, drinking, farting and other fun old man noises.
Bitching about every ache, sitting on a stump for an hour in the morning and telling everyone how bad the PCG has fugged things up.
Sign me up for some of that sheit.
Until recently, you had to be twelve to get your own tags. They came with a hunting license. At twelve you’d get to go to camp. It was a right of passage. The camps of my youth were filled with men who came from every walk of life, each one with stories of places and things you’d never heard of. Many were old warriors who’d fought in the World Wars, Korea, and Vietnam Nam. At camp you got your first glimpse of the world without women in the audience. It was just men. We looked forward to turning twelve and getting to go to camp. It was a big deal.
The world’s changed, but this is how it was. Thirty years later, I look forward to camp all year long—still, with all the hope of an eleven year old boy. You’re right to recognize the difference between twelve and fifteen year olds. Anymore, for lots of kids, hunting is not cool. It’s a stigma. This may even be the case for the vast majority of kids. At the same time, the very notion of manhood is under attack and association with it is a stigma.
One thing I’ve seen come out of these threads is people posting what’s been important to them — posting about what they cherish. Seeing these sentiments published, even if in this most informal medium, is pretty cool. Interestingly, before internet forums, these values were memorialized in holidays and traditions, by the sheer act of repeating them over and over for generations. All is not lost.
