Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Lions, and Tigers, and Bears...

I'm guessing that each one of us, at some point in our lives, has to learn to face and overcome fears of our youth. I had one such encounter with my fears when I was about 11 years old.

My older brothers, Kevin and Kory, and I decided one fine summer day that we wanted to go camping up the river from our house. There weren't many houses along the river at this time. There were more on the north side than on the south side, which was where our house sat. That was due partly because we owned between 1/4 and 1/2 mile of frontage property along that side of the river. There was an area maybe 1/4 mile up river that was vacant land, and had a nice flat spot up the bank to camp on. It was definitely a different day and age, when you didn't need to seek out who owned the property and obtain permission to just camp. We never defaced the property, and always took (or burned) any trash we had.

Well, since we were going by boat on this campout, we figured we had better determine all the supplies we needed for one night. I don't believe we bothered to take a tent, because we loved sleeping out under the stars. That brings me to my one fear that plagued me all during my growing years - fear of the dark.

I don't know if it's because the darkness can hide all sorts of things that makes one fearful of it or what. In my belief system, I believe that Satan has power over the darkness. As evidence look at all the evil things that take place at night. People tend to become more decadent in the darkness. I mean, there's a whole different world that lurks in the darkness. So I think that is part of where my fear came from. To this day, I'm still not the most comfortable in the deep woods at night, but have at least arrived at the point where I can stand to be there and not tremble in fear. For me, I always conjured up images of bears, or badgers, or other mean animals seeking me out in the night. Any noise would get me wondering what was out there watching us, or waiting to tromp on us.

So, I knew that if I was with my brothers, and was sleeping between them it would be more like safety in numbers for me. I gathered up my things - which probably consisted of maybe a sweatshirt and a sleeping bag - and lit out with Kevin and Kory on our trek. We arrived at the campsite before dark, and set up what we needed to set up. Then we got a fire going. By this time it was getting dusk. I grabbed the hatchet and began chopping on a log - mostly to keep myself occupied. Suddenly, Kory decided he needed the hatchet to chop down a larger branch or something. I was kneeling near the log I was chopping on, and he just reached out to grab the hatchet as I was swinging it down. It veered from the log and hit me in the left knee with the sharpened edge. Needless to say I was devastated, not to mention that I also had a sizeable gash in my knee.

Kevin took pity on me, and helped me down to the boat and ran me home. We didn't have much to do with doctors in those days, so Mom was the doctor/nurse. She cleaned up the wound with water and peroxide (much to my displeasure and pain), then put two or three butterfly bandages on the wound and I was good as new. I was a bit sore and limping, but decided to go back out and finish the campout.

Things settled down between Kory and I, and after having marshmallows or hot dogs or something, we were just sitting on our logs around the fire enjoying the night. By this time it was plenty dark.

Suddenly, I began to hear rustling in the ferns and woods around us. I'm sure that Kevin and Kory knew I was afraid of the dark, so they began conjuring up stories about bears being around and watching us. Well, the hairs began standing up on the back of my neck, to be sure. Then I hear more rustling, and I was sure there was a bear or wolf just waiting to attack us. Heck, I may have even thought it could have been a werewolf. Then, I start hearing some growling sounds. Well, it just about did me in at that point, and I think I just froze where I was and couldn't even breathe!

Whoosh, "Roar", and out pops this figure in the dark from the bushes, and runs up upon us! I about nearly wet my pants, until in the light of the fire I could see it was Dad who had snuck his way up the river in a canoe . He had come to check up on us. I said, "Thanks, Dad!" facetiously. That pretty much did my nerves in for the night, and I had to go back home with him to sleep safe and soundly in my own bed.

I've often reflected back on that experience, and wondered if anyone really even knew the extent of my fear of the dark. I guess that's why I'm more self-reliant than most, because I just learned to overcome things like that on my own. It does make one stronger to go through such experiences.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

This is such a sweet and wonderful post! I love hearing these memories! It is amazing how clearly you can recall such details! Again, it is a blessing you survived the hatchet slip! Awesome story!