Popcorn

One of my defining moments.

When I was growing up in Alaska my family went camping all the time. We would pack up the Oasis camp trailer and the 1959 Chevy station wagon and go somewhere remote and pristine. Some place where the fishing was good.

 

One of our favorite destinations was a place called Squirrel Creek. It was a five or six hour drive from our home in Anchorage. An eternity for a boy eager to catch a really nice trout.

 

We went there many times over the years. It became familiar and comfortable and we always had fun. Of course we had a favorite camp site right next to the creek. We would set up camp, gather firewood and start the fire, and then we would get down to business. The trout were always hungry and my brother and I were happy to accommodate them. We had fish for dinner every night.

 

Our last trip there was my most memorable.

 

By then dad had sold the old camp trailer and bought a fancy new motorhome. It was huge and it had all the amenities available at the time.

 

One of my favorite things was the power generator. Dad had made up a string of 60 watt lights and he tied them up in the trees around the campsite. At night he would start the generator and the whole area would be well lit. We discovered that the fish were attracted to the light so we would fish well into the night. What fun!

Other folks in the camp ground would come by to see the motorhome and all the lights. My dad loved it. He was a celebrated extrovert.

 

One late afternoon my brother and I decided to walk upstream to cross the creek and fish a few of the other hot spots we had heard about from the other campers.

 

My brother was walking well ahead of me. I was a portly little fellow and walking through the underbrush slowed me down a bit. I came out into a clearing and saw my brother ahead near the creek. He was impatiently yelling at me to walk across the fallen tree he had just crossed that formed a bridge over a large ditch. I reached the tree and started walking across. I did very well until I reached the halfway point.

 

The tree had been dead for some time and the bark was quite rotten. My brother’s crossing had loosened the bark unbeknownst to either of us. As soon as I reached the mid point the rotten bark gave way and I fell into the ditch and brush below. It wasn’t much of a fall though so I didn’t get hurt.

 

What I didn’t know was that I had knocked a nest of hornets loose from the tree; they were not pleased. They began to sting me everywhere they could. I jumped to my feet and tried to run through the ditch toward my brother but the ditch was full of dead trees and brush. My progress was not what I had hoped for, or needed.

 

The hornets were merciless. They stung and stung and stung me, over and over. My face was burning, my arms were flailing about as I tried to fend them off, and I was screaming to my brother for help. He realized what was happening but there was nothing he could do. That was the only time I’ve ever seen my brother so upset. He was screaming and crying… I was screaming and crying… and my chubby little legs were doing their best to get me out of there. Meanwhile, the hornet soldiers were doing their finest work.

 

I finally was able to get some distance between me and the smashed nest and the angry hornets abandoned their attack. My brother helped me as much as he could but the only thing to do was get back to camp. My face, eyes, hands, and neck had already begun to swell from the stings. My brother was so gentle with me, I’ll never forget that.

 

He led me back to camp via an alternate route through the woods. The lights from dad’s generator helped guide us in the evening twilight. When we finally reached camp my dad, mom, and some other adults were sitting around the campfire popping popcorn and talking. My brother and I approached them and my mom instantly knew I was hurt. She covered my face with cold washcloths while dad joked that I looked like a piece of popcorn.

 

Dad was always so clever.

 

Eventually the swelling went down. I didn’t fish that night though.

The next day I was just fine.

 

It’s funny, the things you remember... hmm, popcorn…

Reviews

[solitarywriter]

A great story of family dynamics. I love the way a brother comes through when he knows his own brother's in real pain. I love what the father said, something mine would have said to me long ago, with a sense of humor and a lack of panic, thinking any sort of painful experience ought to be good for him, as long as it doesn't kill him. I'd love to see a few more details added to give it more depth, and maybe it could even be added to in other ways. I'm sure there are all kinds of trouble you could get into in Alaska; what a beautiful, soulful, yet at times frightening place!

[Jacqueline]

What an interesting and downright heartwarming tale. It says a lot about a great family dynamic. The title fits nicely and I had a smile after reading. :)

[Jessica Young]

"hmmm, popcorn� dad was always so clever."

Lovely story.

[J]

I agree with solitarywriter in that this is a revealing snapshot of family dynamics ........ the loving response of your brother, your mom's instinctual ministrations ....... and dad. well, i don't know that "clever" is exactly the defining term i would use. you show wonderful storytelling talent here, d, i was right there with you on that rotten ol log ....... and i adore trout. brings back many memories of my family's camping adventures when i was young. i love it when you share your alaska with us. more please!

[Tom G]

Ak Great remembrance. Family camping, fishing in the Alaskan Wilds, nasty hornet attack, compassionate brother and dad's popcorn too. Good style good read Refreshing. TomG