Becoming My Parents

Butter Pot Provincial Park

Yesterday Good Man and I took a very scenic route to Witless Bay. We stopped at Butter Pot Provincial Park. I wanted to hike a bit but Good Man was afraid of getting lost.

“Your mother did you wrong,” I said, “by not taking you camping as a kid. We’re not going to be whacking down bushes. There are trails.”

“I camped!”

“When?” I challenged him.

“I camped with the Boy Scouts in front of school and I went to Boy Scout Jamboree in Korea. Didn’t I tell you? That is when I met first foreigner.”

“Camping at school is not camping.”

Good Man protested that it was, until he saw people in the park, camping. “Oh, that is camping.”

Butter Pot’s Beach

We did end up taking a very short walk to a lookout point (a huge rock). On the way there, a fallen tree blocked the trail. “We can not go, look,” Good Man joked.

“You walk around it or over it.”

“Oh, you are very clever,” Good Man laughed.

Lookout Point Rock

When I was a kid, my parents were big into outdoorsy stuff. (When I refer to “my parents,” depending on the context I could mean Mom and Dad, Mom and Stepdad, or all three. In this post “my parents” means “all three” of them.)

Trespassing and camping near the Mississippi River (Dad), spending nearly every weekend on the family’s land in Pine City (Mom and George), traveling around the Southwestern United States in a big van (Dad), fossil hunting (Mom and Dad at different times), touring caves (all three in difference configurations), star gazing at local parks (Mom and George), sleeping alone outside under the stars with no tent when I was 12 (Dad, and I think Mom wanted to throttle him when she found out)—friends would go the amusement parks and the beach during the summer, but we would always go camping.

Cupids, Site of the First English Settlement in Canada (1610)

The thing is, while it was mostly interesting, it was also boring. One could only read so many books on a trip. And when it rained? Oh lord, my poor parents.

From the time I was 12 or so I knew that I would get out of Minnesota and I would live in big cities. When I was 15 or so, I was determined to live somewhere outside of the US at some point. In my adult life I have lived in or in the inner-city suburbs of Atlanta, Seoul, and DC.

I consider myself a big city girl.

So what the hell is up with the vacations with Good Man to a horse B&B, Gotland, Jejudo, and Newfoundland? What’s up with all of the hiking (even if we’re not camping)?

Good Man says, “Really you are country girl at heart.”

Or maybe it’s that I’m a rainy, windy, broody, grey-skied island girl.

Thin Soil, Spongy Moss and Lichen

Thick Fog

One thought on “Becoming My Parents

  1. Comment from: Diana [Visitor] ·
    Min Gi’ll toughen Good Man up in a couple months, don’t you worry. ;-)

    Also, I keep telling myself I want to live in the countryside (and I DO), but I keep choosing large cities. I decided to just embrace it and use it as a chance to go carfree and walk/bike everywhere. Woohoo!
    07/07/10 @ 22:50

    Comment from: Mom [Visitor] ·
    Gotcha! You are a country girl! You forgot to mention the trip to the South Dakota Badlands and Black Hills in March or April. Remember watching the comet Hale-Bopp? Good times and wonderful memories! And now you are making them with your own family!
    07/08/10 @ 04:00

    Comment from: admin [Member] Email
    Mom, there were so many more things I could list–like driving through buffalo herds and watching wild donkeys lick car windows!

    Diana, the thing is, I’m not sure I could live in a small town. I think they might be too small and cliquey and gossipy. I’m probably going to end up living in the middle of nowhere like ALL of my parents do!
    07/08/10 @ 05:50

    Comment from: Jonathan in Florida [Visitor]
    Hey, I was at the World Jamboree too! 1991, right? in the Gangwondo mts? I broke my ankle when I was there (base jumping).
    07/08/10 @ 08:03

    Comment from: admin [Member] Email
    Ha ha ha! Yes, Jonathan, that was the one!
    07/08/10 @ 08:18

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