Some days when we couldn't think of something to do, Jack and I and a couple of other kids would decide to go camping. Now camping for us didn't require much in the way of preparation and since we were too young to drive, we couldn't plan on going very far. So, we settled for a rugged trip through the "deep uncharted woods" of Forest Park just a fifteen-minute walk from home. You may not think that a wooded park in the midst of the Queens section of New York City could not be very challenging but with boyish imagination anything is possible. Once the decision was made each kid would run home to make the essential preparations:
1. Gather equipment. (I got my Boy Scout canteen, mess kit, matches, and sheath knife. I don't remember what the others gathered.)
2. Prepare survival food. (We usually made sandwiches. and grabbed a handful of cookies. One of my favorite sandwiches was sliced raw onion slathered in mayonnaise on pure white Silvercup bread (which sponsored the Lone Ranger on radio).
Occasionally I would pack a can of Dinty Moore's Beef Stew a favorite of Scouts to heat up in my mess gear. This was packed into a brown paper bag. The canteen, hung by a strap on my shoulder, held nothing but good old frontier water from the kitchen tap.
3. The plan. (Walk up four streets to the back entrance to Forest Park and penetrate into the deep woods.)
The campaign kicked off once the last kid came back with his gear. When we got to the park, we headed straight into the forest. Someone always had a compass. Of course there was no map and once we were sure which way was north, we simply plunged on.
After a wandering around, seeing which trees we could identify and, naturally, being always on the lookout for game, we would finally settle on a clearing where we would make camp. This consisted of everyone hunting for dry wood scraps for the campfire. My sheath knife helped to shred some smaller bits into tinder.
When the wood was properly stacked we would use any bits of paper to start the fire. If necessary, we would use our brown paper bags. Once it got going we would unpack our survival food and eat. Boy, that was living. Man against nature. Survival of the fittest.
We would soon have to scout around again for more wood for the fire and inevitably, out of desperation some green wood would be used which produced no flames but did produce smoke, which caused some coughing and teary eyes. But it was still glorious to be facing nature in the raw. Until, on our last camping expedition:
"You boys! Put out that fire!"
Oh no! There stood a uniformed Park ranger.
"Don't you know any better than to light fires in the park? " Terrified, we scurried to stamp out the smoking remains and toss handfuls of dirt on them. Oh boy, we were really in trouble now. What was going to happen?
Pointing the way, the ranger said very officially, "All right you are all coming with me!" Being good little Catholic schoolers, we did what authority demanded without question. There was never a thought that we might all run away in different directions.
He marched us through a couple of hundred yards of deep forest to his office adjoining a playground. Opening the door, he commanded, "Get in there."
We did. He stood us against the wall and went to his desk. Was he calling the police? Maybe he didn't have to, because he could arrest us himself. What were our parents going to say? Were we going to jail?
He took out a big book from the drawer and flipped it open picking up a pen.
"Ok, your names are going into this book so there will be a permanent record."
One by one he took our names and addresses and wrote them onto the page. After it was done, he closed the book and said, "Now, let me tell you what's going to happen." We quailed. He continued in almost a growl, "If ever any one of you is found lighting a fire in a park again you will be arrested! Do you understand? We now have a record on every one of you!"
Did we understand? Of course, we did. We would never, ever, ever light another fire in the woods. Not ever! To our sudden relief he dismissed us and we crept home depressed, diminished, destroyed. Would he call our parents? Did this mean we now had criminal records? And beside that, we'd have to tell it in confession! Oh, the shame.
Oh, by the way, did I mention that this was our last camping trip?
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