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.
This is a great post with wonderful insight.
Originally Posted by battue
As kids we couldn’t wait to go to camp and get to hang with those old guys. Looking back they were mostly average men of their time. However, to us kids they were “Giants” and for the most part are bigger today than they were then.
This is what I grew up with as well.
Same.
When I was 10 I got to miss school for the first time to go to camp on Friday morning. It was still one of the most fun deer hunting trips I've ever had. My dad shot a buck on our way to his stand on opening morning. Right at first light. I was standing next to him. Later that evening he shot a doe... It was the coolest day I'd ever had in my short 10 years. I'll never forget any of it. I remember almost every detail about that day before opener. I could even tell you what magazine my cousin and I were looking at and the beer my dad and uncle were drinking. Hell, I know what we had for dinner after the 2 deer opening day.
The only thing I love more than hunting is God, my wife and kids...So to sit and read you guys bitching about something as sacred as you make it sound makes me shake my head. I don't care if opening day is Wednesday, Saturday, Sunday, or Christmas Eve, I'm going. Traditions are started every day...start a new one on Saturday instead of Monday.
Camp is what you make it. A house, a rented cabin, a tent, a lean-to of pine boughs. Just make it.
