No, I’m not off to go camping (never, ever, ever again).

I’m off to Camp.  Bluegrass Camp.

Have you ever been to camp?  Everyone I ask says “yes”.

I haven’t.  I think I spent a couple of weekends at Girl Scout camp, but that wasn’t really “going to camp”.   I wasn’t the kind of child who wanted to leave my familiar home.

Actually, I didn’t want to camp, either.  My parents, brother and I once spent 2 weeks in a campground due to my father’s work (something about contaminated seafood in upstate NY).  I brought 28 library books (two books a day for 14 days) and rarely left the tent the first week.  On day 8 I made friends with the caretaker’s dog and discovered the camp store sold ice cream.  Things got a little better.

Now that I’m sixty, I think I can handle a week away from home.  So I’m gonna pack up the fiddle, rosin up the bow and head north, with Dancing Mandolin Player riding shotgun in the Highlander!

Banjo Man will have to take care of things here all by himself.

See you next week.