That I grew up in a camping family meant spending part of my time without the modern amenities, such as electricity, refrigerators, telephones and television. Of course we had those comforts in our home, but we willingly said goodbye to those things most weekends when we headed for the woods.

And these woods were the forested rolling hills of southern Indiana -- the land encountered by my great-great-grandparents in several of my ancestral family lines.

With our house being in town, we could have missed the wonders of the forest, animal life and simple living. Instead, my sisters and I learned the fine taste of food cooked over an open fire, swinging on grapevines, exploring forest trails, learning about animal life, reading by oil lamps, hunting for morels (honeycomb mushrooms), judging time by the position of the sun, and inventing play in the woods.

I believe that these early experiences have enhanced my interest in the lives of my ancestors, since our camping trips replicated some of the components of our ancestors' lives.

It was also in the relaxed setting of the woods that our parents often talked about their own memories of their childhood, parents, grandparents and other family history.

We didn't do without things we needed. Instead, our parents acquired the needed skills to feed and care for their family in this wild setting -- much as had their ancestors done for their own families. Indeed, my mother used the campfire to serve such hearty breakfasts as pancakes with strawberry sauce or she made cornbread in a dutch oven that sat on the campfire. My father showed us that we could indeed have a bread toaster in the woods without electricity, as he laced a wire coat-hanger through holes on one end of a sawed-off coffee can to make a toaster that was held over the campfire. My father cut grapevines for us to use as dare-devil swings, and taught us games that were more common during the time of his childhood.

Everything was more work in the woods than at our house in town. Meals were more laborious to prepare. It was a long walk to bathroom facilities -- especially at night. But, as I'm sure my ancestors felt, there was a certain pleasure in knowing one's own self-sufficiency.

And the laughter -- I noticed that my parents laughed more in the woods than when we were at home. It seems that the world of modern conveniences also brought a lot of worries to them. But, in the woods, they let go of those worries and had fun. Looking back, I am so glad that my parents had this escape from modern life's pressures. I am grateful that I saw them relax and thoroughly enjoy themselves. And, I appreciate that they thusly taught us how to have fun.

Nature and the world were more vivid in the woods than they seem now as I am busy with my work life in the city.



• I remember how fresh and clean the whole world smelled when I woke up in the woods after a rainy night.
  
  
• I remember seeing the stars without them being camouflaged by city lights or smog.
  
  
• I remember when insects in the woods were a marvel to study instead of a pest in the city home.
  
  
• I remember learning how all of nature can communicate with us, such as seeing the leaves on trees turn inward before a rain.
  
  
• I remember how crisp were the sounds of chirping crickets, singing birds and hooting owls when we were miles from the competing sounds of highways and factories.
  
  

There is something very rejuvenating about nature in such an undiluted form.

These vivid expressions of nature must have helped to sustain our ancestors as they faced the dangers of their day.

I've sometimes wondered if it's odd that I have feelings of security sweep over me during a thunderstorm and that often leads to sleeping very soundly. But, no. I think the thunder takes me back to the time when nature was so vivid in my life, bringing back an array of happy childhood memories.

Another ancestral value revisited during our camping trips was that of community inner-dependence. If the raccoons ate one family's food, the other camping families shared what they had. If one family's tent was damaged in a storm, everyone helped -- much like the barn-raisings of our ancestors' times.

Ahhh ... I recall one meal where many families worked together to prepare a whole hog, roasted in a pit dug into the ground. This was the 1960's, but I'm sure I tasted the same fine flavor that my forebears knew so well.

It's also amazing how close one becomes to the other people in a small community. Like the villages of our ancestors, we were very close to the families that shared our camping world, collaborating on everything from meals to playing in waterfalls. This was very different than the fences, boundaries and formal rules of city living. I'm glad that I experienced both ways of life, but I can remember during the week being very eager for the weekend to come so that we could go to our other home -- the woods.

I believe that these cherished memories help me to better understand some aspects of the lives of my early Indiana ancestors, as they, too, learned how to eat, sleep, work and play in the wooded rolling hills of southern Indiana.

I also know that these camping experiences have enhanced my fascination with the lives of both my Native American and Euro-American ancestors.

Similarly, as my sister, Susan, prepares to build a log home atop a wooded hill in scenic Brown County, Indiana, I see how she also carries these memories and love of nature into her adult life.

And animals -- Well, there are as many pets as people in my extended family. Closeness to animals is another variable that our camping background contributed to how our experiences are in many ways, parallel to the values of our ancestors.

I am grateful that my parents were campers -- both for what I learned and because it was actually quite fun.

In my early 20's I wanted to either become a psychologist or a forest ranger. Well ... I pragmatically went with the psychology plan, and that has brought much interest to my life. But sometimes I wonder ... what if I had become a forest ranger?

And, maybe it won't be too late for some variation of that. My Aunt and Uncle (Elizabeth Ann Eddleman Hazel and her husband, Carl) retired from their career jobs last year, and they both got jobs at Brown County State Park -- because they wanted to. My other maternal Aunt (Janice Sue Eddleman Wellman, and her husband, Sam) still camp. My first-cousin, the Rev. Bruce Anthony Hazel, is moving his family to Africa. My sister, Susan, and her husband, Chuck, have spent weekends camping on their wooded acreage in Brown County while waiting the completion of their log home.

Whether it be due to the joys of camping, an ancestral focus, or having some Native American heritage, I think that the call of the wild is in all of us. Who knows what the future holds?

But, one thing is certain. Genealogy and Camping are enhanced, each by the other.



-- Mark Ellsworth Hickman

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Copyright 1996-2006, Granduncle Mark
(Mark Ellsworth Hickman, PhD)

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