I loved camping when I was a child. Part of it was my love of the outdoors, but another part was because it was one of the few times I got to be with my dad. A couple of times my dad made the mistake of bringing along some new child-hating girlfriend he'd hooked up with, and I made sure to make as much trouble for her as possible, in hopes that she would stomp off and I'd get my dad all to myself again.
One time my older half-sister came along. I didn't mind sharing her with my dad. Above is a photo of us camping on Lopez Island in the 70's. I'm the hugger on the far-left, there's my half-sister, my dad, little brother, and that's the van my dad camped in. He built a platform bed in the back, and he and his girlfriend would sleep there, while my brother and I slept in a tent nearby (or not so nearby, on that one trip I was particularly nasty toward his girlfriend du jour).
Sometimes in the off season my dad would make time to see me, and I always begged to go to the RV shows with him. Together we'd inspect the latest models of trailers and motorhomes and dream about what we could get if money were no object. I started to believe that if a motorhome materialized in my life, my dad would want to use it to go camping all the time, and I'd get more time with him.
So I asked Santa for a motor-home when I was 8. And 9. I remember looking out my bedroom window on Christmas morning, certain that a beautiful new motor-home, or at the very least, a cozy trailer, would be parked at the curb. But the street was always empty of RVs.
However, I received a Barbie Camper when I was 9! I didn't have Barbies, but I had the hippie "Sunshine Family," and they couldn't wait to go camping.
So even though I didn't see my dad that Christmas, my mom knew how much I wanted a camper, and she splurged for this yellow beauty to ease the ache I felt, for both my dad, and the camping I so longed to do. It was great therapy -- play therapy -- for my 9 year old self.
Today that camper is in my garage. My daughters played with it for a few years, but it really doesn't compare to the detailed Playmobil camper they have. I should get rid of it, but I can't. There are too many memories, too many fantasy camping trips played out within that yellow plastic shell. When I look at it, those memories come rushing back, with all the details. It's really eerie how vivid childhood memories can be.
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