In one of our early camping adventures, we were going to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It was the summer of 1988, and the Chicago area had just experienced an extreme heat wave. We couldn’t fathom wearing anything other than tank tops and shorts. Tom & I with our three little children (ages five, four, and six months) and Paul & Mary (Tom’s sister) with their two boys (ages three and one-and-a-half) were all going on a two week camping trip together. Imagine five children age five and under.
We packed for hot weather and were shocked when it turned cold the very day we reached our destination. To make matters worse, a cold drizzling rain continued for days. We had brought only one pair of long pants and one long sleeve shirt for each child.
One evening as Tom was building a campfire, the kids were romping around having so much fun. Christian didn’t want to slosh around in his wet socks anymore and handed them to his daddy. Tom placed the socks on a grill over the low flame of the campfire. Later, when Christian came and picked up his socks, they had the lines of the grill branded into them and fell apart in his hands.