Golden Girls go camping

Into life, a little laughter must fall. My thoughts as I write this column.

For the past two weeks, my column has brought tears to my eyes and those of some of my readers. This week, I hope to bring you a little laughter.

Last week was the Golden Girls’ annual camping trip. Patrice Lyttle, Linda Butler, Joan Gamble, and I have been doing this for three years.

Whenever I tell people I am going camping, they look at me strangely and say YOU? CAMPING? I understand their thinking. Those who know me know I am not adventurous; I hate to sweat and get dirty. Most of all, I hate bugs.

Our plans changed the first year. The White River Campground near Koteewi flooded, and we ended up in the camper at Patrice’s house in the driveway. The perk of that was a hot tub a few feet from the camper.

From that experience, I learned that I am majorly claustrophobic. I was assigned the lower bunk bed, which is in the back corner of the camper. You must crawl into it. The opening is less than a yard wide and deep. As my mother would say, “Lawd, have mercy!”

After the lights went out, I tried every position I could think of to calm my anxiety. I prayed. I sang to myself. I quoted scripture. I was having a major come-apart. I finally ended up with my hands and head dangling out of what I call an open-ended casket. I don’t think I slept one wink.

The next year, we made it to the campground. We thought October would be the perfect time. The leaves would be turning, and the weather would be neither too cold nor too hot. We were wrong. We gathered our chairs around the campfire as close as possible to get warm. The temperatures were record cold. I slept on the dining room table/bed.

We chose September this year for the 12-minute drive to our camping spot. September should be good temperature-wise, or so we thought. We were wrong. It gave new meaning to sweating with the oldies.

You must understand that my friend Patrice does not take meal plans lightly. She is a connoisseur of camping cooking. I think she sent out our menu beforehand to excite us: Roasted Tomato Bisque, Tex-Mex Chicken with roasted sweet potatoes in foil packets, Blueberry French Toast, and Pumpkin Pancakes.

Our laughter filled the campsite. Camping is such great therapy. If your mind can capture the thought of the original Golden Girls camping, well, that’s us exactly. Let’s say we each resemble one of the Golden Girls. I will confess to being called Sophia.

During our second night, I woke up with some serious itching on my lower legs. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Finally, I got back to sleep only to wake up in the morning with a serious condition called chigger bites. I counted 28. No one else had them. I could only conclude that I must be the sweetest. It’s not something any of the others envied.

The older I get, the more I cherish my friendships. There is just something about a heart meeting another heart in conversation. Our understanding, empathy, and love for one another are priceless.

There is no judgment. There is no comparison. (Except for me being the sweetest.) There is no filter hiding our thoughts. Being real and wearing no makeup gives such freedom to say … This is ME!

When I was a Girl Scout, we would sing a song, “Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver, and the other is gold.” I’m so thankful I have my golden girlfriends.

Who are your friends you can be “real” around? Find them and cherish them. Take them camping. Just be sure to bring the bug spray.

I hope you let a bit of laughter fall this week as you read my column. We all need it these days.

Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.