Well I did it. I “sorta” went on a camping trip. The family, especially the grandkids, pleaded long and forcefully enough to get me to visit their campgrounds for a day. Overnight stays are out of the question once you reach those octogenarian years. Morning Star at Sugar Pine, up above Foresthill, was the setting. A dozen or more geodesic-style tents were clustered around campfire spots and it all looked serene and homey. I say homey because they brought along all the comforts of home. Like canvas easy chairs, tablecloths, lots of snacks and soft drinks, bikes, dogs and cell phones. As you might suspect, I have never been the outdoor type. I’m big city folk, having spent my childhood among tall buildings and clanging streetcars. In previous columns I’ve mentioned cavorting in and around city alley ways. Encroaching on Mother Nature’s serenity was not one of my passions. So there I was, sitting around the campfire observing all the goings-on and enjoying it all: The burning embers, the tall trees, the chattering gossip and the children. They never stopped running or laughing and there were only occasional tears. Scraped knees, a sliver, or bumps on the heads are all quickly remedied when you have caring parents and a great outdoor paradise. The youngsters ¬– ranging in age 2 to teens – were having the time of their lives. I was happy to have the opportunity to see it and have a small part of those memories. There were three dogs in the mix and they, too, had the time of their lives. Tablescraps were abundant and, although they had some leash limitations, there were times when they ran and jumped with the youngsters. Food is always a pleasure at camp outs. So I am told. The sons, daughters and their spouses prepared a bountiful meal of steaks, ribs, corn on the cob, salads, beans, rolls. I feasted like a king. One thing we oldsters have to remember. Don’t forget to take along your youth.