I Miss the Campfires

Three days away from my first confrontation this year with the IRS. Wednesday's meeting is on behalf of my ex-wife. Having prepared diligently these past two months, I hope the outcome is favorable to her.

It's a holiday weekend, obviously. Here, in the Mission, Carnival seems to have lost some of its luster. The crowds didn't show up this year, maybe because the weather was unfavorable.

I'm happy they didn't. The noise, the litter, the drunken groups shouting outside -- all are welcome to take their action elsewhere.

(Spoken like an old man who likes his peace.)

It's also Memorial Day.

This was a very special holiday in my family when I was growing up, though it's never achieved any sort of similar status with my families out here on the West Coast.

Back in Michigan, it was one of the three magical summer weekends; the other two being the Fourth of July and Labor Day weekends.

Our family would pack up our camping gear and head to the lakes and campgrounds we favored. My Dad and I would fish; my sisters and I would swim; the whole family would hike and pick blueberries; and we'd eat around campfires at night, often with large groups of friends.

Looking back on it, we were "rich," even though by financial measures, we were poor. My parents never let us feel poor, and they knew how to squeeze the best out of whatever resources we had.

Theirs was a generation that had lived through the Depression and WW2. They'd known far greater deprivation and challenges than what we were dealing with in the 50s and 60s.

The problem with Baby Boomers like me is that we got used to a better standard of living, and have had trouble adjusting as the U.S. economy sheds its advantages during a broader globalization that is helping much poorer, more desperate people around the globe improve their circumstances.

All in all, these are good and necessary adjustments.

But for those of us caught in the vice grip of falling income, higher costs, age, and the loneliness of living in the "Facebook Age," i.e., the age of virtual friendships as opposed to the real kind, let me tell you much more important things have been lost, perhaps irretrievably.

Or maybe these are just the sad musings of an aging man, living alone, yearning for more connections to ward off the shivering of time, with its relentless assault.

Somehow, "liking" something on Facebook just can't compete with story-telling over S'mores around a campfire with friends and family.

I officially now am missing the old days. I guess that is either a sign of old age, senility, or both.

-30-C