Pilot Mountain State Park
Before you leave, I need to know if I there is a man in these rocks, or if I am just seeing things…
You see it too, right? Perhaps he is the pilot that gave Pilot Mountain its name.
You cannot converse with me for very long without hearing something about summer camp. Whether it’s the eight years that I attended youth camp as a child or the three summers that I served as photographer at Pine Cove, camp seems to weasel its way into every discussion.
A favorite activity at most youth camps is the blob. If you aren’t familiar with blobbing, it essentially consists of a giant inflated pillow in a body of water and a high dive. One child sits at the end of the pillow, and the other child stands on the high dive. When the second child jumps down to the pillow, the first child is launched into the air.
I was an average-sized teenager. Thus, I wasn’t very good at blobbing other campers. However, I loved sitting at the end of the blob and letting the largest high school guys launch me into the air.
As you can imagine, this didn’t always end well. For the sake of this story, we need to backtrack to the Friday night before I went to camp in 2012. (Warning: this story is loooooooong, but I will try my best to keep it short)
Every Saturday I share three simple things that brought me happiness during the week. These posts may grow or evolve as time passes. Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section!
1. A snow day!
The weathermen predicted “accumulation less than 1 inch.” The flurries were supposed to start at 3 am on Wednesday and last for a few hours. Instead, the heavy snow started at 5 am and continued all day.
2. And another snow day!
Since the temperature stayed below freezing point, the roads were still unsafe on Thursday.
Sometimes it’s underrated 😴
If you ask me to describe San Xavier Mission in one word, I will say, “hopeless.” Although thoughtful renovations are underway to restore the physical appearance of the church, the visages inside represent hundreds of individuals in desperate need of spiritual reconciliation. The parishioners light candles, rub statues, and perform rituals in hope of salvation when all they really need is a relationship with Christ.