Camping, smores, and an important lesson about drunk driving

Samuel P. Taylor State park, just north of San Francisco, is packed with huge redwoods. Saturday night we camped at one of the best spots in the campground with some friends, on the bank of a river surrounded by the towering trees. The only downside to the park is that the scenic river that runs past the campsites has a moderately busy road on the opposite bank, just behind a line of trees. You can hear the cars zipping past through most of the evening, but by late night it quiets down. No bother - we had lots of stuff to distract us from the car sounds - We grilled amazing New York strip, had shrimp cocktail, chased away raccoons, and introduced our Australian friends to smores - sticky marshmallow plus Hershey's bar plus graham cracker - yum.

If you're from another country, trying this American favorite for your first time in your late thirties, it's easier to strip away the nostalgia and get right to the food facts. Needs better chocolate...graham crackers break too easily...is messy. Ok, ok agreed. I can't argue with any of that, but I think it's good to try it with the rough basics, now that the first time is out of the way ... next time - high quality dark chocolate, smaller marshmallows, crackers with some backbone. Voila - a much improved snack and happy yuppies truly enjoying the outdoors.

Great food aside, staying up late around the campfire is the real attraction to camping. It was dark by 5:30pm, and we were up until midnight talking and laughing about all the usual stuff - homelessness, high school politics, religion and Survivor. At about 12:10, it was time for the last walk to the restroom, about 100 feet away. Ellen and I were walking down the dark path, flashlight in hand, and were almost to the comfort station when we heard a car across the river. It made the usual rushing sound as it passed, but it abruptly stopped and was followed by a dull slam. We turned to look and across the river, about 200 feet away in the pitch dark, the headlights flew off the road, tipping sideways as the car jumped off the road, down the embankment, crashing through the trees and finally slammed to a stop and went completely dark.

We were in shock as it was happening - like it was in slow motion. I sprinted along the road toward the bridge that crosses the river, and on the other bank of the river found a footpath. I walked about 100 yards through the pitch black with the flickering flashlight. I had no first aid kit, no car, no cell phone reception, and I kept checking down the embankment toward the river to see where this car had landed. Just ahead of me I saw the car - right-side-up in the middle of the footpath, dented, wrapped around a tree, impaled on a fencepost, windshield smashed. It occurred to me that I might not be ready to see what had become of the driver - I wasn't even sure what I was doing there, but realized I was the first person there and might at least call for help somehow. Behind the car I saw someone walking around in the dark - a young guy, trying to climb up the embankment to the main road. It was the driver, completely unharmed, not a scratch - but in total shock. He walked over to me and I looked him over for cuts, checked the top of his head for bleeding - nothing. He reeked of alcohol and that adrenaline sweat smell. I told him to walk out the path with me.

Our friends had also seen it from the campsite and had driven their car over to the crash site to see if they could help. We all looked the driver over in their headlights and confirmed that he had somehow managed to escape any injury at all. We loaded him in the car and drove him home, just five minutes up the road, where his wife was waiting for him. We were up for another couple of hours on pure adrenaline, tossing and turning, making trips to the bathroom, finally falling asleep.

This morning we walked back to the crash site to have a closer look at the wreck. If he had missed the small tuft of saplings that finally stopped his car, he would have tumbled into the river. Later we watched as the tow truck dragged his car up the embankment. The driver was there, too. Would he realize how close he had come to losing it all? Or would he think he was immune to it? Would it all be just a funny story he tells his friends the next time he's up late around a campfire?

Buying local to keep your community strong

I'm a firm believer that during tough economic times, you can make a huge difference by spending money close to home. We saw this in Manhattan during the cleanup, when small businesses started drying up - only residents were allowed downtown for a few months before Xmas, and few people actually were there at all.

The shops and restaurants in our neighborhood came out of someone's entrepreneurial dream. These were the businesses where they knew your face on sight, they were full of character. Looking around at this desolation, we knew that we had to choose just a few where we could spend our money, and the rest would probably struggle and fail. Many did fail and the neighborhood was worse off without them.

This Xmas, everyone is going to tighten their belts, and the little bit that we all spend will make a huge difference if it's focused in our own communities. Huge national companies tend to come out of hard economies on top, because small and medium sized businesses can't slash prices the way the big box stores can. Believe me when I tell you, Amazon, Wal Mart, Costco, and Sams will do just fine if they don't get every one of our dollars this year. If we can keep our spending closer to home, the business profits will go into our own neighborhoods - someone will be able to afford a new home in your neighborhood, hire a new employee from your town, or buy their supplies from a store closeby.

So let's all find a few, or a bunch, of things we can buy locally from independent stores. Maybe it's a touch more expensive, but for a couple of items, maybe it's worth it to invest in our communities and pull through this mess together.

Electric Blue Neighbors

We watched the election results in the local movie theater - the tiny little Balboa theater. The room was full of people eating popcorn, sour patch kids, and drinking coke and whatever else they might have brought. Lots of emotion, as you might imagine. Nice to be among neighbors and get a sense of who you live with. Gives the little beat up theater a new shade of meaning too! Nice that the owner opened it up for that! We took a drive around the city to see the rowdy neighborhoods, ours being a bit sleepy. Lots of cars honking, people dancing around and shouting. But we were too exhausted to join in the street parties. Home to fall asleep on the couch watching CNN. Then off to bed.