I convinced my father to join me and spent the next three weeks up all night with anticipation coursing through me. I had never been camping before and had always wanted to go. To say I was excited would be a gross understatement. It seemed like I had joined at a very opportune time since the big overnight camping trip to Bong Recreation Area (feel free to make jokes, God knows we did) in Kenosha, WI was only three weeks away. I quickly made friends with everyone there. I liked attending meetings for the Cadets. I agreed, and he registered me the next day. This is an organization that is like the Boy Scouts but with a more explicitly Christian bend to it. My dad in turn suggested I join the Cadets. My father was a pastor, and when I developed an interest in doing outdoorsy type stuff, I asked if I could join the Boy Scouts. I attended Christian school and went to church three days a week, sometimes even more. However, I feel by writing this incident down I can put that night behind me and finally put this harrowing encounter to bed. ![]() This event is the source of such fear and dread that thinking about it even twenty years later is sending shivers up and down my spine. ![]() ![]() Lately, my mind has been wandering back to my first camping experience.
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