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Something special about a camp fire

There’s something special about sitting around a camp fire, wiener roast fire, fire pit fire that’s special.

Last week brought one of those occasions this summer, thanks to a special family celebration — my Aunt Betty’s 96th birthday.

She is quite a remarkable lady, incidentally, this matriarch of our family who Better Half and I marvel at with frequency, including as we observed her tend her garden this summer and summoned us for just cooked fresh green beans from it and as we watched with genuine amusement and admiration the other evening how she stood on the back of the tractor, hanging on to the seat as my cousin Denny drove her out to the fire site.

God bless Aunt Betty, because he’s surely blessed us with her, this woman who makes the 90s look like the new 70s.

“Out back” we gathered for a laid-back picnic/wienie roast on what was a picture-perfect setting, a September evening that had retained just the right summer heat to it that ultimately progressed to enough of a cool feel to make the fire welcome not just for cooking but for comfort, too.

This has been a location that has united us through the years, for corn roasts, wienie roasts and kid camping outings.

It’s no surprise that good old hot dogs never taste any better than they do when cooked over an open fire, then topped — in my opinion — with a squirt of mustard and an ample icing of relish.

Throw in some baked beans, baked corn and potato salad, and it’s the makings of a summer feast — way better than what I would have fixed for dinner.

And how good it feels to get close to the fire to embrace its warmth, turning in its midst like a human rotisserie.

Around the camp fire is the venue for many things other than hot dogs roasting and marshmallows toasting to a gooey, sticky crisp.

There’s conversation and chit-chat.

Laughter.

The latest “news.”

Memories.

A little star gazing and admiration for the light an almost full moon can cast on the evening and surrounding property. How beautiful is that?

And no camp fire is worth its burning wood without a ghost story or two for good measure, like the time my older sisters were trying to scare camping cousins, I believe the story goes, only to be scared themselves by my mother, who had wrapped herself in a white sheet and made her way through the pine trees to generate some goose bumps.

Boo!

I’m always happy for the opportunity to gather around a family camp fire.

And always a little sad and reluctant to have to leave it.

There’s just something special about sitting around a camp fire.

(Kiaski, a resident of Steubenville, is a staff columnist and features writer for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Times and community editor for the Herald-Star. She can be contacted at jkiaski@heraldstaronline.com.)

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