Place to myself

Well, we made it through the heat and the traffic to get to the Poconos. The boys and I are at Camp Charles in Bangor, PA. We're just over the hill from Kirkridge Retreat Center where my creative writing class starts tomorrow.

Camp Charles is a very nice place that is very hard to find back in the hills. Taking a walk around this evening was interesting. It's mostly seasonal campers here, and many of them look like they've been here for decades. I met a few of the regulars tonight before they left for their normal lives. They are definitely people with some unique stories to tell. I may have to stay into the weekend to meet them again and find out more. The group dynamics alone could give me some good writing material. Just to give you an idea.... one of them has an old faded confederate flag hanging from his camper, and he himself rides a Harley, curses non-stop, has a long straggly pony tail that sticks out under his skull decorated helmet, and a beer belly to match. He and his wife are raising their 2 grandkids who were very friendly and polite children to me during my walk. They reside next door to a couple of women with short hair and sensible shoes and lots of lawn ornaments. But they're all great friends and share meals and play cards all weekend. Interesting bunch!

A couple of other regular residents here are some really odd-colored ducks. I've never seen any ducks quite like these, and will need to take my camera along on the next walk to get a picture of them. I can't even describe them, but one of them I swear was wagging his tail as he loaded up on the bread that Maria, the owner, puts out for them by the lake.

Other than that, there's hardly a soul at the camp, as everyone's gone home for the week. There are a few kids who were here playing volleyball and riding motorbikes around this evening, but that seems to be it. So I will have the run of this place when I'm not at the retreat center. Should be nice...