For two summers, I was on staff at Boy Scout Camp Tula on Lake Greeson in western Arkansas. It was wonderfully rustic. We slept in tents and padded about in our hand-sewn moccasins, up and down the hilly trails on the fragrant pine needles. Dark was really dark, so we could pick out the constellations on most nights. Paw prints were all over the muddy stream banks. We’d stage Indian dances around bonfires and go skinny dipping to wash off the greasepaint after the guests had left.  There was a … [Read more...]