Childhood deprivation volume 1
Foodless, waterless adventures with Dad
It was supposed to be a pleasurable fishing excursion on a summer Saturday morning. Reality proved to be more like a microcosm of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. I vaguely remember bushwhacking our way to the East Gallatin River and being very hot. Unlike the intrepid explorers of old, though, Dad, Isaac, and I had no drinking water or snacks, the latter being the main reason I would’ve found fishing fun as a kid. I’m not even sure we had more than one fishing pole between the three of us.
When we returned home—hot, thirsty, hungry, and I’m pretty sure fishless—seven-year-old Isaac made an emphatic declaration to his parents: “I’m never going anywhere with Uncle Tom again.”
See, this wasn’t his first adventure with my dad. He certainly remembered a hiking expedition a few years prior. Dad piled six of us kids—three of his own and three nephews—into either his bench-seat pickup truck or the family station wagon and headed for the Madison Buffalo Jump. Whichever vehicle we were in, it’s safe to say no seatbelts were born by anyone since this was the late 80s and also the seatbelt-to-kid ratio didn’t math.
We drove past Manhattan, past the dump, and to the Madison Buffalo Jump State Park. The website for this state park recommends bringing a picnic to enjoy from the top; we did no such thing.
If the privations of the fishing excursion with Isaac and Dad were reminiscent of the Lewis and Clark expedition, our Buffalo Jump hike was like a scene right out of the computer game, Oregon Trail.
We may not have faced dysentery, blizzards, or broken wagon wheels, but the clime was prime for rattlesnakes, we once again had no provisions (snacks), and our supply of water was scant. For one dad and six vulnerable children, we had a single quart-size mason jar of tepid water. There was no shade. My sister and I took turns carrying Isaac’s toddler brother who was wilting in the sun.
We marched straggled our way to the top, complained, didn’t appreciate the view, then slumped our exhausted way down to the vehicle. In the computer game, our party’s morale score would have been low for six of our party. There was no prize of ice cream or slurpies on this summer day; surviving the adventure itself was our reward.
It was experiences like these that made Isaac resolve never to go anywhere with Uncle Tom again. Somewhere in my late teenage years, I remember Dad saying, “We remember the things that don’t turn out.” Truer words have never been spoken, and I don’t think he was trying to apply the phrase aspirationally. He just didn’t place high personal value on snacks and water, and as you are probably starting to gather, I did.
We sure did remember our adventures. The ones above, and the very many more that didn’t “turn out.”
There was the canoe trip in our second-hand aluminum canoe to the Madison River in early spring. Said outing was cut short by driving snow.
Then there was the camping trip to the Beartrap Canyon North Campground near the Madison River. On that particular trip, my brother nearly lit the entire canyon on fire while Dad attempted to set up the tent in gale force winds. All 98 pounds of adolescent me laid inside the tent to not very successfully weigh it down. Mom didn’t seem too surprised to see us return home only hours after leaving.
Another trip that didn’t work out (and we thus remember) was the Madison River float trip. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for our family to go to that particular river…
We were running late, and our church congregation began floating thirty minutes before our arrival. The Burnett family’s grand plan was to paddle and catch up. Our back-up plan was to join them late for the barbeque dinner. Neither plan was ever going to work, something we realized after several hours of floating into the Montana evening. Hope dwindled as we passed vacant campground after vacant campground. Turns out we had put in where they were going to take out, which meant we had exactly 0% chance of ever crossing floats.
We were stranded miles from the truck, it was now officially dark, and my dad was barefoot. In an act of dazzling generosity, I gave him one of my size 7 canvas shoes so he’d have at least part of one of his size 13 feet protected. We successfully traversed the thistle-ridden, mucky cow pasture, and walked a fair piece down the gravel road before 17-year-old Jess and 14-year-old Par decided to run for the truck.
In a scene to be applauded by free-range parents everywhere, Dad gave his cheery blessing: “Go for it!” Two of his precious teenagers ran into the scary dark, and he and I limped along, each awkwardly carrying two inner tubes. The tubes did nothing to deter the mosquitos thrilled by their evening feast, but they provided some warmth from the now-chilly temperatures.
What felt like and probably was actually an hour later, headlights wonderfully bobbed their way toward Dad and me down the gravel road. Jess and Par had made it out to the main highway where they were picked up by two men in a pickup truck. And that was the very last time they were seen.
Kidding, kidding. That’s just how the story should have ended per all the Dateline podcasts I listen to. Instead, the guys decided not to do bad things to them, and dropped them off at Black’s Ford where Dad’s ‘63 Chevy truck of many green colors was parked. The key was exactly where it was usually left: in the ignition or under the floorboard. Can’t beat rural Montana in the 1990s!
In high spirits despite our dehydrated, much-bitten, starving condition, we drove—of course seatbeltless—the forty minutes back to town where this expedition ended with a rare reward. Dad bought each of us a melty ham and cheese sandwich from the Hardee’s drive-through at midnight. No fries or drinks though; that would’ve just been excessive. Might’ve even undermined Dad’s parental efforts to build character in his progeny.
Isaac’s resolution never to go anywhere with Uncle Tom again proved to be a resolution he broke countless times. FOMO was real even back then, and if all your cousins and siblings are going on an adventure, you go. Don’t want to miss out on the memories, you know, or the chance that this might be the time Dad/Uncle Tom decides to take everyone to Hinky Dinky for $0.25 ice cream cones.
My dad has always been really fun, good at selling us on a good time, and he loves his people. And kids like being around fun adults who like them. Dad just didn’t think snacks and water and other such luxuries were necessary parts of our excursions.
Dad’s come so far. Now he does things like buy good food for family picnics and outings. He often has cases of water in the back of his car which makes any dehydration we experience a personal choice. He buys CANDY BARS to share on hikes, like the bear bait hike of last summer. On a recent trip home, he had ice cream AND ice cream bars in the freezer for no other reason than he thought his kids and grandkids would like them. We did. He’ll sporadically and generously pick up the check for family meals, making us feel all kinds of spoiled.
He remains the instigator of fun and adventure in the family, the man who always answers the phone, shows up and is the first to help out, the guy who loves doing anything that involves his family. Except playing board and card games—every game besides Charades or Pictionary he merely tolerates, but is a good sport to play with us. He has the ready laugh he’s always had, and takes teasing like a champ. And these days, even Isaac wouldn’t hesitate to go on an adventure with Uncle Tom, and is probably as glad as I am for all the memories of things that didn’t work out. Guess they kind of did, after all.
Isn’t life cool, and aren’t people interesting? See you in the next one…
Shameless request: For a new project related to my Dear Fellow books and AI work, I’m gathering and sharing opinions from cool, everyday people on what they feel about AI’s direction—cool or concerning? Would you take literally TEN SECONDS to share your take at the AI Water Cooler?
Deprivation has its uses.
“Mosquitos thrilled by their evening feast…” That’s a great formulation!