Vacation - The Campground Bathroom
Every night at camp the last thing I did was go to the bathroom one more time. It got pretty cool at night so I didn't want to leave my warm hard bed unless I needed to.
The first night at our second campground, I entered and glanced across the stalls to see one door closed and two doors open. As I chose my stall and began doing the things I had to do, the silence from the other stall was conspicuous. There was no sound of urinating, no flatulence, no unrolling of TP, no rustle of clothing, nothing. Finishing my own activity, exiting the stall and washing my hands, I was aware of the continued silence from the closed stall. The woman had not shifted her position, not even moved her feet from where they rested when I first entered the bathroom.
The next night I again used the bathroom late at night. The scene of the night before repeated, the only difference being which stall the quiet woman occupied. As I left, a possible explanation occurred to me.
Our area of the campground had many young families.
Camping with small children is fun. They love playing in the campground and digging in the dirt. You re-experience nature through their eyes. Setting aside the daily routine of home, you spend more time in intimate contact with these little human beings and you can watch them and experience the drama of their lives in a new way.
Camping with small children is draining. Cooking, cleaning up, sheltering, diapering, etc. all take more work than they do at home. Added to that is the drama of being a child. Joy is unlimited. So is sorrow. Anger has no socially controlled quiet intensity---it is loud and it lasts exactly as long as it needs to until it is spent regardless of who is watching or what hour of the night it might be or how close the next campsite is.
After a long day of playing, cooking, cleaning, storing everything in a place safe from bears, laughing with the happy, consoling the sad, and wating out the angry, there is a sense of desperation. The strength of that desperation is perfectly expressed by a woman who locks herself into the women's bathroom after the children are asleep and everything is put away. Here is the one place no one will need or demand her attention.
The first night at our second campground, I entered and glanced across the stalls to see one door closed and two doors open. As I chose my stall and began doing the things I had to do, the silence from the other stall was conspicuous. There was no sound of urinating, no flatulence, no unrolling of TP, no rustle of clothing, nothing. Finishing my own activity, exiting the stall and washing my hands, I was aware of the continued silence from the closed stall. The woman had not shifted her position, not even moved her feet from where they rested when I first entered the bathroom.
The next night I again used the bathroom late at night. The scene of the night before repeated, the only difference being which stall the quiet woman occupied. As I left, a possible explanation occurred to me.
Our area of the campground had many young families.
Camping with small children is fun. They love playing in the campground and digging in the dirt. You re-experience nature through their eyes. Setting aside the daily routine of home, you spend more time in intimate contact with these little human beings and you can watch them and experience the drama of their lives in a new way.
Camping with small children is draining. Cooking, cleaning up, sheltering, diapering, etc. all take more work than they do at home. Added to that is the drama of being a child. Joy is unlimited. So is sorrow. Anger has no socially controlled quiet intensity---it is loud and it lasts exactly as long as it needs to until it is spent regardless of who is watching or what hour of the night it might be or how close the next campsite is.
After a long day of playing, cooking, cleaning, storing everything in a place safe from bears, laughing with the happy, consoling the sad, and wating out the angry, there is a sense of desperation. The strength of that desperation is perfectly expressed by a woman who locks herself into the women's bathroom after the children are asleep and everything is put away. Here is the one place no one will need or demand her attention.
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