Now that Marilyn and I are part of the camper-nation, having progressed from shopping for campers to actual ownership, we’re knee deep into the process of learning to pull it, park it and enjoy the process. I quickly discovered it isn’t easy being a stone-cold rookie when you’re surrounded by a sophisticated group of hardcore camper types.
Did you know there are these crazy-comfortable reclining folding chairs called “zero-gravity” with an adjustable pillow for your head? Me neither, not until we parked our trailer and realized we were the only camper in our area still using our pathetic chairs-in-a-bag! We also discovered the importance of packing our own firewood. We found out the hard way how quickly we can spend $15.00 for a few spindly pieces of local timber.
I’m writing today in an RV park near Berlin, Ohio, smack dab in the heart of Amish Country. It’s a very nice park, as meticulously maintained as the Amish homes it sits among. Its grass and landscaping are groomed to golf course specs, making it a great place to write from my new zero gravity chair.
Another attractive aspect camping offers is the opportunity to take our little dog, Mollie. And I quickly learned we weren’t the only ones who like this aspect. No sooner had we landed at our first campsite before we noticed the number of campers with dogs!
Even as I write this, I hear the lonesome bay of a little beagle. These sights and sounds only add to the sense of community here in the campgrounds. Because dogs must be on a leash, everyone must walk their dog, providing the perfect opportunity for spontaneous conversations. Dogs sniff one another while we fellow campers ask the same question, “So, where are you from?” The people in the motor home next to us have a little dog named Pedro—a great name for a Yorkie from Texas.
Our Upper Sandusky neighbor on the other side has a Chihuahua named Princess. Thank goodness Mollie gets along with other dogs famously, making it easy to make each new acquaintance.
I can’t help but notice how many retirement age guys (like me) have little dogs. Old men and little dogs have a lot in common, if you think about it. Both are quick to growl about something that looks a little different and both make strange noises while they eat. Little dogs and old men deserve one another. They both require patience and understanding as we navigate a world that is getting larger even as we’re getting smaller.
I admit, Mollie can evoke my compassionate response simply by tilting her head while tapping my knee to remind me its dinner time. It’s amazing how fast a macho man can be reduced to baby talk by his little dog. I wonder if it’s because we relate to our little dog. We once viewed ourselves as the big dog, strong and purposed. But as age crept up on us, we’re forced to admit we can’t run with the big dogs.
I know, as I’ve aged, I look for ways to reinvent my usefulness. I suspect us old men hope that just as our little dog finds comfort and purpose at our side; we believe others will be comforted by our presence.
I’ll try to live up to Mollie’s expectations by living up to this proverb—
“Good people are good to their animals,”
Proverbs 12:10 MSG
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.