Comments on: Mr. Henry goes camping

By: La BellaDonna

La BellaDonna — Wed, 20 Sep 2006 13:51:12 +0000

Oh, Mr. Henry, my sympathy! I always wondered about those camping “vacations;” usually (though not, I suspect, in this instance) they seem to consist of Dad getting to play, the kids getting to play, and Mom getting to keep house under the most primitive circumstances possible. Not much of a vacation, in my opinion.

In my time, I too have had to go camping. I remember the teeth-clenching experience of shaving my legs in the water drawn from a sparkly COLD mountain stream; I remember praying that I would not lose a contact lens while trying to put it in, or, worse, have it carried off by the New Jersey State Bird (aka “mosquito”). One of the better camping moments was traveling with a room-sized carpet; period camping, at least, offers the possibility of camping with a certain verve. It also means even more struggle each day to be turned out presentably; trying to get my makeup on tidily either by dawn’s early light, or by the flicker of a candle inside the tent.

These days, like Joan, my preference would be to go “camping” some place with wonderful room service, wonderful cooks, a fabulous hot tub, 700-thread-count sheets, and many, many stars by its name in a travel guide.

By: danielle

danielle — Mon, 18 Sep 2006 14:02:41 +0000

I absolutely loathe chicken noodle soup and always have! So nice to know there’s someone who agrees!

Also, I’ve NEVER been camping. I wanted to go when I was a Girl Scout ages ago, but after I barely made it through day trips to amusement parks, my family got wise. People know better than to invite me camping as I am a creature of comfort. My friends didn’t even want me go to a weekend music festival with them — they all said “You know you’ll have to use the port-a-john and you won’t be able to shower and the whole place will smell?” I know they had my best interests at heart! And indeed, the bed is the greatest invention given to humanity. Followed closely by anti-frizz treatment.

By: Joan

Joan — Sat, 16 Sep 2006 03:28:57 +0000

Oh, Mr. Henry! My heart goes out to you. When my offspring suggest camping, I say without fail, “I’ll be happy to send you if you can find someone to take you.” My idea of camping is spending the nights in a lovely bed-and-breakfast somewhere near day-hikeable mountains or forests. I absolutely require both a real bed and running water (that is, bathing and toilet facilities with indoor plumbing). I have a hard enough time dealing with reality even when these minimal requirements are met. No one wants to see me after I’ve spent an overnight not-sleeping on an air mattress in a tent which seems designed to attract every kind of annoying flying insect.

As for chicken noodle soup, I’m sure you know it can be delightful, if, say, the “noodles” are lovely little tortellini and the stock is home-made, and redolent of rosemary and garlic? The stuff from a can or packet hardly deserves to bear the name “soup”, as it is only by the wildest stretch of the imagination edible.

Be brave, Mr. Henry! These things we do for love, they ennoble the soul as much as they discomfort the body.