Sacred Hammocks

“No, you can not cut the strings. Those hammocks are sacred!”
Is it my problem that they failed to tie a proper knot while standing on each other’s shoulders?
Those particular hammocks are almost as old as I am and they survived the three Primer children, proving that they are tough indeed.
Now, let me just say that if you had grown up in our neighborhood in the 1960s you would know that the Primer children did not do things in the conventional way. This is particularly true with hammocks. Or anything else that can be hung like a trapeze at a death-defying height in a tree.
For example, as small children we climbed as high as we could, then, standing on our tiptoes, reached further still, hanging dress-up clothes over the limbs, swinging into the rigging like monkeys, with only buttons and button-holes between us and premature death.
Poor mom.
One solution to the problem of having monkeys for children was to buy each of us a hammock.
There is an art to hammock hanging, especially if you are motivated by height. By hanging the first hammock, then standing on it to hang the second hammock we began a process that could give my mom a whole afternoon free at the campsite as long as she managed to suppress any feelings of pure panic.
You can imagine where the third hammock was hung. I’ll give you a hint; we only needed two tall trees to hang all three hammocks.
It is worth noting that if you have a sibling to untie and hand you the first hammock, you can stand on the highest hammock and hang the first one still higher. This last part is the only feature of the plan I purposely failed to share with my own children. I figure part of growing up is figuring out your own mischief.
Any hammocks that survived our childhood deserve special treatment.
So, when my son and his friend wanted to cut those same hammocks out of the trees on our recent campout, naturally I said no.
They struggled with the dilemma until they were willing to ask for my help.
I hung the first hammock on the highest spot I could reach.
The truth is, my monkey-skills have faded like my youth, so the boys took over from there.
One boy balanced like a tight-rope walker until he untied the high ropes, while the other boy spotted him.
The moral of this story is that the boys felt great about their success and the hammocks survived another generation. Oh yeah, and the boys learned to tie a proper knot.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives in Texas with her family and loves exploring the fabulous camping around our great state. Comments and especially lists, are welcome at cathykrafve@gmail.com or http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com