Super Hero Sister
Camping in a tent and a storm hits
6/11/20262 min read
Not All Heroes Wear a Cape, Some Wear Pajamas!
Picture this: a family of four goes camping in the '80s. It was a different time.
Parents, two young kids, a tent, sleeping bags, fresh air, and all the adventures that imagination could muster. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, there was just a wisp of a breeze, birds were chirping, Mom and Dad were doing their thing around the campsite, and my sister and I had been playing all day.
No TV. No tablets. No cell phones. Just our imagination and whatever was around us for entertainment.
Then it was time for dinner. What did we have? I don't remember, but let's have some fun and say hot dogs, potato chips, and root beer. Except Dad. He had a certain beer with little white bunnies on the can.
The best part about hot dogs, even today, is cooking them over an open fire. The flames somehow transform that simple tube of meat into a magical meal kids love. We didn't care if they were burnt—they tasted amazing.
Marshmallows? Of course there were marshmallows!
Camping + kids + fresh air + marshmallows = quiet time for parents.
Possibly the greatest invention ever created by parents.
Then it was bedtime.
Our tent was huge! I was less than four feet tall, so yes, it was huge. It was made of heavy canvas, not like today's lightweight nylon tents with their fancy fiberglass poles. Ours had steel poles and seemed indestructible.
It was a mobile fort that glowed orange in the daytime and became a fortress at night. It protected us from every creature that lurked in the darkness. Bigfoot, bears, squirrels, skunks, raccoons—you name it. It even kept out the rain and wind.
Like I said, it was a safe place.
Then it happened.
Sometime during the night, a storm crept into the campground while everyone slept. It brought rain, wind, thunder, and lightning. It was mean.
The wind pushed the tent walls in and out. The steel poles wiggled and jiggled under the strain. Rain pounded the canvas like sandblasting a sheet of plywood. It was loud, scary, and unpredictable.
I looked around.
It was pitch black until lightning lit up the sky.
Mom was asleep.
Dad was asleep.
I pulled my sleeping bag up a little higher.
Another flash of lightning lit the tent.
The wind gusted, the walls flapped, and the whole tent seemed to move.
Then another flash.
What was that?
Someone was standing inside the tent.
Another flash.
The figure was still there.
Who was that?
Who was that?
That was our hero.
My older sister.
She had stayed awake and was holding up the walls of the tent so it wouldn't blow over, protecting our canvas fortress and keeping the rest of us safe.
It was a real-life battle of David and Goliath, a tiny girl standing against Mother Nature in what, to me, was the greatest storm of the '80s.
We were safe because she sacrificed her sleep to save our family.
Was it really a bad storm?
Probably.
Would that massive canvas tent have actually blown over?
Probably not.
But did my sister save us that night?
To one little boy lying in his sleeping bag...
ABSOLUTELY!!