I was thinking about my gratitude for some of the little things
we take for granted: left and right shoes, for example.
Did you know that in the last century, manufactured shoes were
identical? They only shaped to your left and right foot after being
worn for some time. Ow.
I was thinking about my gratitude for some of the little things we take for granted: left and right shoes, for example.
Did you know that in the last century, manufactured shoes were identical? They only shaped to your left and right foot after being worn for some time. Ow.
Lots of other everyday things are easy to take for granted: running water, indoor plumbing, electricity, furnaces. I am especially aware of these because on past Thanksgivings we have celebrated in a tent at Roaring Camp.
Each year, a group of history enthusiasts sets up a rendezvous encampment and demonstrates early 19th-century mountain man living for the public.
Running water is provided, but you have to go get it one bucketful at a time. We build an outside cooking fire and warm ourselves around it.
Oil lamps and candle lanterns provide lighting. The lamps need to be cleaned of soot every morning. Candles have to be replaced. It takes more work and thought than flipping a switch.
Participants do their best to hide or disguise all modern conveniences such as ice chests, flashlights and travel alarms.
To be truly realistic, we’d forego the ice chest full of fresh food and eat dried meat, pemmican and anything we could forage (berries and nuts) or shoot.
For me it’s enough of a challenge to cook over an open fire. Keeping the fire lit and the right temperature takes concentration. The fire is in a pit in the ground so there’s a lot of stooping and bending. And the smoke does get in your eyes.
During the day, my husband demonstrates blacksmithing. Kids enjoy the heat, the sparks and the noise as he bangs soft steel into an S-hook, a fire starter or a set of tongs. They “ooh” gratifyingly when the hot steel sizzles in the quench tub.
We explain that each village had to have a blacksmith because he was the hardware store of the day, providing items we now buy ready-made. We often feel a bit sad that our visitors know so little about how their forebears lived just a few generations ago. But we’re grateful for the ones who are curious enough to show up and ask questions.
On Thanksgiving itself, after most of the public has left, we share a potluck. Sometimes somebody deep-fries a turkey (definitely NOT the old-timey way); sometimes it’s brought from home. Some of the dishes are old-fashioned, others are not.
We share what we have, work around what we don’t have, and enjoy each other’s company.
I’m grateful I get the chance to experience the way life used to be. I’m grateful I don’t have to really live that life.
This year, family obligations will keep us away, but the rendezvous will go on without us.
If you’re curious, you can find out more at Roaring Camp’s web site: www.roaringcamp.com.
