Ramblin’ Road: On leading a tame and comfortable life

by Phyllis McCrossin

There is something to be said for sitting out on a picnic table, a cup of coffee by my side, while I write this column. King has a fire going and is sitting next to it with his latest batch of scratch-off lottery tickets in his hands. It is his daily ritual – start a fire, walk the dog, work his scratch-off tickets.

Even on the warmest of days he stokes the fire in the fire pit first thing in the morning. No one knows why. He likes the crossword puzzles lottery tickets and usually wins enough to turn around and buy more. He sits by the fire, a quarter in his hand and takes his time scratching the little boxes.

When it gets too warm to sit in the sun/by the fire he moves to the shade of our canopy. By mid-morning he will venture into town to drive past the lighthouse and trade in tickets for new ones. (Wearing masks, of course).

Kal Haven Outpost (where we are staying for the summer) is a new campground. The young owners opened it in 2016. They work hard to keep the place clean and nice. While the RV campsites offer no shade, there are young trees planted at each site. Primitive sites are set in the woods. King and I do a lot of boondocking (primitive camping) in the winter months but since we are stationary for the summer, having amenities is nice.

The owners are planning on adding sewer hookups to each site either this year or next and are hoping it might draw more seasonal campers. It’s a hefty financial undertaking for them and I would imagine this season is rather atypical and probably just a little scary. I think by next month there will be three or four of use using the campground as a seasonal camp.

This morning the campground is a beehive of activity. Children are racing around on scooters or bikes and people are walking their dogs. King and I keep to ourselves. We are that old, grumpy-looking couple people tend to avoid.

King has years of practice at looking grumpy. As an assistant principal he dealt with school discipline. Remember when our mothers told us that if we continued to frown our faces were going to freeze that way? Our mothers were right. King has a perpetual stern look about him. Our children and I are the only ones who don’t take him seriously.

Earlier today a crop duster circled over the campground several times. We assume he is dusting the blueberry fields on the next road over, but since he dips below the tree line it’s difficult to pinpoint his exact location. To the east of us is the Gingerman Raceway. I can hear the racers as they make their way around the track. I never got into the sport, but I did, on occasion double-date with high school friends and sweethearts and go to the drag races in Martin. In my mind I can still hear the radio ads for it on WLS radio out of Chicago.

The campground is not full, though the cabins in the back have been rented for the weekend. I think there are nine RVs and trailers here and quite a few tents, though it’s difficult to tell the number of tents because they are set back in the woods.

The place was packed for Memorial Weekend, so I’ll be interested to see how full it gets for the Fourth. I’m guessing now that state parks are open it might not be quite so busy.

King and I drove through the Van Buren State Park this week. It is packed. Uncomfortably so. I understand the draw – Lake Michigan is just over the dune but with 10 to 15 feet of beach (and in some places even less) available I’d just as soon not venture out amongst people. I’ve always preferred to stay away from crowds, but it seems now it’s rather prudent to do so. Rather nice. I can be anti-social with an excuse.

It’s a quiet existence. Last week our big excitement was the wind taking down our canopy. We didn’t see rain in the forecast (and we didn’t get any), but the winds tend to whip through here like the prairies in Kansas.

King had played 27 holes of golf during the day and crashed early. I fell asleep reading a teen paranormal romance (I’m addicted) only to be awakened by the sound of the canopy assailing the side of the trailer. King was out. I woke him up and his response was, “We’ll take care of it in the morning.” Not acceptable. I went out into the wind and got the cover taken down (at least now there was no longer a sail attached to the flimsy metal structure).

A group of 20-something young men stood in the doorway of the bathhouse watching me struggle but didn’t offer to help. I think they were afraid of me to be honest. I was pretty perturbed with King. I gave up trying to fold up the frame and lashed it to the picnic table for the night. We were able to salvage it and have it set up again. This time we watch the weather and take it down if storms are predicted.

That’s our lives in a nutshell. Pretty tame by most standards. Pretty comfortable for us.