Photo by Mary Melton
I love camping. I hate camping.
Camping is a pain in the ass, especially when you’re crippled. Even if I could hammer stakes into the ground and pitch a tent, why would I want to? This is supposed to be a vacation. And sleeping on the hard lumpy ground with my bony body is hardly a weekend at the spa for me, either. And I’m sorry but outhouses and pit toilets don’t work for me. I find no romance in crapping in anything that doesn’t flush.
But when you live in the city, you don’t realize how much the urban clang and clamor hammers away at your brain until you leave it all behind. They don’t have real