Labor Day marks the unofficial end of the summer vacation. Millions have taken advantage of the long weekend to get away from home for one last summer fling. The campgrounds across America are full this weekend and ours is no exception. The KOA we are currently in has been booked for this weekend for at least 2 months. That was when we tried to find a place to hang out until we were due in New York City. Here we are an entire state away in a very small community which has no appealing feature for small children or teenagers. Yet this campground is full, as well as every campground within a 200 mile radius, of people desperately trying to hang onto summer.
These desperate people were all trying to leave this morning. Check out time is noon and the blueberry pancake breakfast was at 10 so they were up with the dawn hustling around stowing awnings and lawn chairs, taking down flags and fun lights, and gathering in wet pool towels which were wetter this morning than when they hung them up to dry yesterday afternoon. We even saw one guy with that pink antifreeze stuff you put in your water lines for winter storage. One lady was doing laundry. Bless her heart. Now that is desperate—doing laundry on Labor Day. I thought one guy got in so big of a hurry that he forgot his car when he pulled away in his motor home. Our neighbor from across the road was gone then back in a half hour of so. We finally discovered the reason—they were all going down to the dump station. This campground has very few sites with sewer hook ups. There was a great line up at the back of the campground of folks waiting to dump their tanks.
We had to move, too. Since we hadn’t made a reservation for the holiday far enough in advance, we had to move off our nice sewer site for the weekend. We were only going to be without sewer for 3 days and that was alright except that I forgot we didn’t have sewer on the first day. I was running water through every drain in the Montana like there was no tomorrow. Thank goodness I remembered when I did. We could have had a serious problem. Actually, they have a “honey wagon” here, but who wants to pay a fee for that? Needless to say, we were pretty anxious to get moved back to a sewer site ASAP. After the crowd from the pancake breakfast had cleared out, Gene went to ask which site we would be moving to—number 26. We could see from where we were that 26 was still occupied. Of all the people who had left, why hadn’t number 26 left? Finally, we noticed they were hitched up. Gene went out and sat at the picnic table to watch and wait. I got all excited when I saw everybody getting hugs down there. Won’t be long now. Mr. and Ms. 26 went inside their trailer and they didn’t come out. What the..... We watched and waited. “Maybe they're having lunch before they leave”, I suggested. Gene thought they were taking a nap. We watched and waited. Check out time was drawing nigh. We watched and waited. We could see clearly now because everybody else was gone. Finally, Ms 26 came out and put her purse in the truck. But then she walked across the way to visit with someone else. They were just hanging on to the last minute, not wanting it to end. I feel your pain, but my tanks are full.
As I watched the campers hitch up and pull out, I couldn’t help thinking who in America is not just a little sad at the end of Labor Day? What is it about summer that we don’t want to let go of? We are from Tennessee and when we walk outside in July and August it is like stepping into an oven. And in the past few years there has been very little rain the results of which is a parched, dry earth that nothing can live on. Perhaps it’s not what they will miss, but what lies ahead—freezing temperatures and mounds of snow in the driveway--that causes our spirits to fall.
Soon the migration of the snow birds will begin. For the first time we’ll be among the flock this year heading south desperately trying to avoid winter.
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