by Mj Ferruzza

Created on: November 16, 2007   Last Updated: February 12, 2011

In the spring of 1978, I lost my father during my freshman year of college. To this day I have nothing but good memories of him. After his death I was comforted by friends and many relatives, but I never found solace until that same year I hooked up with a group of college kids on some ROTC camp out.

My father never took us camping. I imagine that he had had enough of it during

his time in Europe during World War II. Mom was a 5 star hotel maven. So our family never really bonded under the stars, ate overcooked hot dogs or had to fight mosquitoes out in the great outdoors.

I had only camped out a few times with my Boy Scout troop but even then it was in some musty smelling cabins. Though I had always loved the outdoors from playing sports, learning to fish and day camp, I had never slept out under the stars. I was very stressed that semester in college. I had too many classes, too much busy work and very little time to get over the loss of my dad.

I had become good friends with the head of the campus ROTC while taking a (free) independent study class called Outdoor Skills. The majority of students enrolled in that class were in the ROTC program,.my best friend at the time and I were not. So The Major put together a Spring Camping Trip. Tents and sleeping bags provided by the ROTC.

I jumped at the chance to get away. Maybe this was going to be like my favorite TV show M*A*S*H. Probably not. We met late that Friday afternoon after we had all finished class. It was a strange mix of campers. 30% were gung ho military wannabees. 30% were partying left wing free spirits. 30% were hot chicks
who tagged along to hang out with the good looking Major. And I guess my buddy and I filled out the rest of that percentage.

The drive to Lake Texhoma (between the border of Texas and Oklahoma) was about 2 hours long. From where we parked to where we set up camp was another hour or so. One of the girls had dropped her glasses at the parking site and the Major (good looking and cool) double timed it all the way back to retrieve them. I sat and talked with her as we waited on his gallant return.

I found out that her father had been also been killed in a freakish accident. My father had been shot by some juvenile playing in the backyard with a gun. Her father was on a river paddle wheel boat heading down the Mississippi River when a tornado hit, flipped over the boat and drowned him. Her mother had swam to safety. What a bonding moment for two camping newbies.

The Major returned and

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