White's, "Once More to the Lake" (p379), stirring the stagnant memory of my childhood summers creating renewal in a seemingly lost value was not what I had imagined. The camping trip that E.B White took with his son, and his recollection of time spent each summer with his family was a refreshing journey back into my own childhood camping experiences. .
August will remain the most camp provoking month of the year. Its balmy winds have draw young and old to campgrounds for a day of adventure and enjoyment of the outdoors. E.B. White's family, in his childhood, always visited a cabin on the lake for one month in August. My summer adventures, also in August, consisted of an annual trip to Stokes State Forest in New Jersey, part of the Appalachian Trail. With the charm of a princess I managed to convince my parents to let me stay until the end of the month, although the original intent was for a 2 week stay at camp. .
What was interesting to know was the fact despite their misfortune, "We all got ringworm from some kittens and had to rub Pond's Extract on our arms and legs night and morning," (p379) they always enjoyed their vacation and continued to take them annually. Similarly, I too would come home with a track of poison ivy in the cracks of my elbows and behind my knees. The chalky pink Calamine lotion would be reapplied as long the desire to dig a hole into my skin persisted, which seemed like every time my mother looked at me.
Camping would not have been the same without the marvelous accommodations that were provided, both manmade and natural. "There were cottages sprinkled around the shores, and it was in farming country although the shores of the lake were quite heavily wooded (p380)" and E.B. White's recount of the lake, "The lake had never been what you called a wild lake (p380), were very similar to what I experienced. At my camp the log cabins to which each group was assigned were large and airy, with bunk beds lining the walls.