December 28, 2010

Good morning happy campers

Now that my readership is almost at nil. a natural recourse when you don't post anything for nearly eight months and I ought to give some kind of award to the seven of you who keep checking in, I feel that writing here is more narcissistic than ever and since I am my biggest fan, that jibes quite well with the way things are.


Have you ever been to summer camp, a school trip away from home or a package excursion to some far away land? Why is it that the folks who run these things feel the need to fill your day with endless activities and routine? For a couple of summers my mom packed me off to summer camp to get me out of the city and to keep me away from trouble, I suspect, and during those summers there was almost no moment when the campers weren't being herded like cattle on a drive across Texas. Reveille would sound. Yup, that's right, pardner. We actually had a bugle call, not a live bugler of course, it was recorded. Except for Monday mornings when someone thought it clever to play this song,

thus ensuring an extreme dislike for Mondays forever afterwards. The cowboys, um, counselors would rouse us, take us to the feeding trough, exercise us, hose us down, drive us to the watering hole, feed us again, lather- rinse- repeat...

A simple routine that has stayed with me for many decades far into my mid-life crisis:
wake up, Make the bed -everyday without fail, put on the coffee, jump into the shower, make and of course eat Breakfast, wash the dishes, etcetera, etcetera.

Whether we have them provided for us or not, most of us tend to fall into familiar patterns. Daily stuff like deciding what we want for dinner or choosing the right tie. Weekly grocery shopping or Sunday night dinner at the local Chinese restaurant. Those pesky monthly credit card statements that scream at you like a howler sent by an angry parent. Holidays, birthdays and anniversaries that all keep us running from one event to the next.

Well I, for one, am going to do my best to break up this conspiracy of Swiss watch manufacturers and Calendar makers. My one and only resolution for the new year is to be on the alert for anything that will break up the rhythm of repetition. Like Captain James T Kirk, I will...well, you know.

What will you be searching for?

7 comments:

dianne said...

Good to see that you are still with us dear friend, I hope you are feeling much happier with your life now?
I was thinking about my resolutions for the coming year this afternoon ... I am going to try to stress less, slow down and enjoy what I do have and become more organised in my daily life so that I have more time for myself to do the things that I want.
The older I get, I realise that I still have so much to learn so I need to experience many more things before it is too late.
Take care dear NYD, I hope you find what you are searching for.

xoxoxo ♡

Kurt said...

My summer camp used a real bugler.

Best of luck to you, NYD!

lime said...

predictable, soulless routine can be a drag, but meaningful ritual can be a balm. it's a balance i seek. that, and some health for us all...

Grant said...

They taught you to hate Mondays? And people think summer camp doesn't teach you any useful skills.

I will continue my hunt for the elusive J-bunny. If you see any, pass them along.

The Grunt said...

Holy shit! I thought you were frozen in carbonite or was killed on "Most Extreme Elimination".

I did scout camp, which wasn't all that structured. A few of my scout masters were really into the structure and tradition of scouts and that sucked the fun right out of it. One of the scout masters used to wake us up at 5am by singing, "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" off key and then jam out on his harmonica. I think the point was to teach us how to plan a murder.

Good to see you back, NYD. Blog land has been rather bland without you.

NYD said...

Wow! I'm surprised to see you folks here.
This must be like what Jesus felt upon his resurrection...

puerileuwaite said...

I will be searching for a summer camp where I can mosey all day in my leather chaps with masculine confidence, knowing that this is the one summer camp where "The Mamas and the Papas" tunes are optional.