Day One

JONESBURG GARDENS, Missouri -- We suck at this.

Not RVing. We’re too new at that to deserve a grade yet. It’d be like failing a student on the first day of class.

No, I’m talking about getting ready to go on trips and, you know, actually getting out the door. We had hoped to make an early start and be on the road by 5 a.m. We were actually moving at 8:30. Not bad you might say, but we wanted to leave before sunrise on Friday, so our Monday morning departure wasn’t exactly what you’d call “close enough.”

With all the traveling we’ve done, you’d think we be better at this. But even with our multi-day delay we were still cramming things into the RV until the very last minute. At least with a plane ticket there is a solid deadline.

But no regrets. At least not yet.

We made it across the Ohio border with the sun still at our backs and crossed two and a half states – Indiana, Illinois, across the great Mississippi River and into Missouri – before deciding to bed down for the night after a harrowing navigation of St. Louis rush hour.

And, as they say, all’s well that ends well. We found this little piece of Missouri paradise right on cue, with enough time to set up camp, take a nice long swim and eat a delicious meal as the sun set over the lake.

It’s a small campground. Bob and his wife Sharon bought the place six years ago. With striking blue eyes under an unruly silver mop of Jimmy Buffet-style hair, Bob had retired after 42 years building planes in Denver and this had always been his dream. “My only regret is that we didn’t do this right from the start,” he told me. “I couldn’t imagine a better place to raise kids.”

As we checked in, I told Bob that this was the first day of our first trip in an RV and he befriended us right from the start. He came by making sure we were getting settled in well and didn’t have any problems with the hook ups. Later, we talked as the kids played in the little playground, fireflies dancing in the dwindling light. He pointed at one of the red-faced ducks roaming the grounds. “We call him Lucky,” he said. His daughter found him by the road a few years ago. His mother and brother were killed by a passing motorist. “He was no bigger than a tennis ball. Now he’s the real boss around here.”

Bob has become a bit of a duck expert providing sanctuary to several endangered species on his many acres. He showed us seven week-old ducklings that he was raising in a small pen. “I’ll let them go free in a few weeks. They’ll stick together their whole lives.” He said if gets real cold in the winter he’ll bring the ducks into a barn, but otherwise they make their own way. “Someone once asked me if I worry about the coyotes. Well, the coyotes need to eat, too.”

Turns out, Bob owns a house not four blocks from the graduate school we'll be visiting in Denver. That turned to a surprisingly intimate conversation about life and faith, deep disappointments and shinning successes. Bob has lived a rich life. It never ceases to amaze me the depth of conversation that is possible in such a short period of time.

Our first day and we've already made a new friend. Maybe one day we'll be organized enough to leave on time with everything planned out, but all in all, not a bad start.