When I hear; that kid is corn fed, I don’t think of a kid
that is big and strong, well built and grounded, nor from the Midwest …
I don’t even think of a linebacker or a kid that just plain works hard…
First the McKay Family Campout and then The Cornfeed. As we
come into our 33rd year; I have realized Grandpa was right, it’s not
just a campout. Crystal clear mountain spring water; is the healthiest for a
growing kid and The Skokomish River is just that. Every year; I get treated
with a Skoke.
Left at the Hatchery and right on Bambi Farms but to me it’s just Memory Lane. A s it’s
where I first learned to drive and still to this day; the first person I see, as we
come out of that last turn, Uncle Claude. But before we play; we work and setting
up camp can be the most daunting of tasks. Especially dependent on who is giving
the instructions. And as we know; there is the right way, the wrong way and the
Fuqua.
It’s tough not to enjoy yourself at the river but first you
need to get in. A Sandblast; when ever I come across something in life, I’ve
learned the best way, is full speed ahead and to submerge yourself fully. The
question every year is; how far are we going up the river and how high off the
rock. The Gauging Hole has never been about measuring the water depth.
From Baby Cakes to Devils Backbone the only thing we needed
from home was maybe 2 wheels or just one Big one. With river rock, a river and
a perfectly weighted stick the possibilities were endless. The campground is
our playground and we thought of everything.
With Baseball and Basketball running strong throughout our
family; Horseshoes has always been our family sport. With a 2 buck chuck teaser
tournament; things get serious when we start drawing names. From the art of a
perfectly designed bracket off our title sponsor’s backing, to the art of the
Bob flop, the next winner will join the distinguished, like 800lbs of Horseshoe
Magic and the Return of the Blade. Where else can you draw a standing room only
crowd. Horseshoes hasn’t just taught me that anyone can win; take care of the
deLight of your partner and we all win.
Every Sunday before Labor Day we celebrate the hard work we
have put into our family with a Skeet Tournament. The question every year is;
who is going to beat Uncle Bernie. The annual Boom and Bust hasn’t just taught
us that though the odds aren’t always in your favor; and like that of
horseshoes, a strong team can prevail. A family that prides themselves as
hunter and gatherer’s; winning this trophy is something to really hang on your
wall.
Every year; even sometimes before we set up camp, we set up
the golf course. Because in a couple days there is going to be; The Beer Can
Open and we need the practice. I didn’t learn how to golf on a golf course; a
cow pasture or even inside the Bousquet’s house. I learned on river rock. I
learned that with the right mindset you can create something out of nothing; A
beer can makes a great Tee, drift wood a perfect pin, a meandering river the
perfect layout for our Open Championship. No matter what hazards get thrown your way in life; a well placed hand wedge can turn you right around. The Skoke
should be a course everyone takes in life; always give your best shot and hope
for the best, good bounce, bad bounce, good bounce…
Everyone has a different moment in their life but I knew I
became a man when I got to participate in all 3 events. You spend
your entire childhood dreaming of that moment; as you spend your time setting
up the course, carrying the cooler, handing out ear plugs and raking the pits.
The greatest feeling in a boy’s life; is after all those years carrying your
hat around with those numbers in it, one of those, is your lucky number.
Yes it’s your family but it is still the first place where
you learn to socialize; fit in, and become you. It’s the place where you take
your first other half; always with welcoming arms. It’s the place where you
first have a sip and a squeaky cooler letting you know someday you will have
your own.
They say chivalry is lost; but not on Saturday night. Arguably
the best meal of the year; if you get a plate and undeniably the best meal to
prepare. Men’s night; as we refer to it, is our night to treat the women to
dinner and their only responsibility is to enjoy the libation of relaxing. From
the Herdman Cheese Bread to the Munro Meat; it is the most smoothly ran kitchen
you will ever see, unless that is, if the Battleships are flowing. Saturday
night has always taught me; if you do your part perfect, the meal will be and I
can butter a perfect potato.
After a full day of games and playing in the river; it’s a
fresh pair of socks that overload your senses and as the evening comes so does
the music. Even in the middle of an intense game of hide and seek; with out
word, the game would stop as we all tuned in as we wanted to know, where he’d
gone. Isn’t life always about cherishing the small things and pondering the
big.
From the clang of the shoes, to the murmur through a tent
wall, to the noise of plastic wheels in the morning, to the crackling of the fire, to the
ambient noise of a lantern, to “buy me a beer” there are sounds so unifying of
a place. Like that of the faint sound of Niehaus and the Mariners in the
afternoon background. The generation before has always been the Key Stone of our
family and though I don’t want that day to come; I hope to do it proud.
…When I hear Cornfed; I think of the kid who grew up with his
family, a family that is strong, well built and grounded. A family; that works
hard at being a family and will always have your back and always let you back
in. Resembled by a single tree; we will bend but won’t break as we continue to grow, at the Skoke. A family tree; rooted in the northwest. When Monday comes around and we begin to
break camp; it’s bitter sweet but sweeter than bitter, as next year is less than
a year away. And as I hand out that last wave; I ask, how do I make… this Dream
Delay.
THE MCKAY WAY
