Camping with Dad

The thing you have to know about my Dad
Is that he was the worst camper
You could ever camp with
Ever--in life, I'm serious

When my brother Jake was getting married
My Dad wanted to take me, my two sisters
And Jake, all on a big camping trip
Because he thought it would be a nice thing to do
As a family

My mom was smart enough to get out of the trip
By offering to babysit my sisters' kids

I said, 'Mom, that's four kids under the age of five'
She said, 'Compared to camping with your father, that'll be a walk in the park.'

Now, there were a lot of things my Dad was really good at
Coaching little league
Fixing cars
Watching golf for eighteen hours straight
But when it came to the outdoors
Something just didn't mesh

But we all sort of cross our fingers
And hope that this won't be as bad as we think

The trip started with us getting to the campsite
And my Dad realizing
That he forgot the tent poles

Then it took us three hours to start a fire
And forty minutes to get the cans we brought open
Because my brother Jake bought the only Swiss army knife in the world
That didn't have a can opener

'It's because it's not a Swiss army knife,' he said, 'It's a Swedish army knife.  It was way cheaper.'
'Well,' I said, 'Apparently they don't have CANS in Sweden.'

We started fighting
Then my sister started crying
And my other sister was getting eaten alive by mosquitos
And the whole time my Dad's trying to remember how to play 'Fire and Rain'
On his guitar

So we crack the cans open on a rock we find
Get in our sleeping bags
And decide that the next morning
We're all going home
And we can bond as a family indoors
Like normal people

Then, in the middle of the night
I have to go to the bathroom

So I unzip my sleeping bag
And start walking a little ways into the woods

I'm not that far from camp
When I hear a noise behind me

I turn around and there's a bear
Like a bear bear
Like a real live BEAR

And, uh, I don't know if you've seen a bear
In person
Like, not in a zoo
Where it can't eat you
But it's pretty scary

So I freeze
I don't what to do

Do you run?
Do you not run?
Like, what do you do?

Before I can really think about it
I feel a hand on my shoulder
And then somebody moving in front of me

It was my Dad

He's got a tennis racket in his hand
Don't ask me where he got it
The guy can't remember to bring tent poles on a camping trip
But he manages to find a tennis racket
In the middle of the night
Just before his son gets eaten by a bear

The bear sort of...looked at my Dad
And my Dad sort of...looked at the bear
And I'd like to say that I was all badass throughout this whole thing
But all I can remember is shaking like a washing machine
And whimpering the entire time

And my Dad kept saying
'It's all right, Eli.  It's just a bear.  That's all.'
Like we were standing in front of a squirrel or something

Finally, the bear snorted
And walked away

I made my Dad keep watch
While I peed
And then we went back to camp
Woke everybody up
And drove home at four in the morning

Three years later
When my Dad got sick
I said to him--

'Hey Pop, you faced down a bear.  This is going to be nothing.'

Turns out there are scarier things in life
Than a bear in the woods

Now, when I talk about what kind of man my dad was
I say--

He was great with old cars
Patient with eight-year-old softball players
And lousy when it came to camping

He just wasn't very good
When it came to being prepared
For that kind of thing

But just sensing that his kid was in trouble
Made him wake up
And jump in front of a monster
Without even thinking twice

I guess sometimes it's what you do
When you aren't prepared
That counts

That was my Dad

Always ready with a tennis racket
When you needed him