When I woke up on this warm April morning, pulling winter's old blankets away, I remembered a not-so-warm April night long ago.

From the moment my dad dropped me off at the Boy Scout camp, things didn't go well.

"Hey, those kids are playing baseball," he said as I was getting out of the car. "Maybe you could get in the game."

Dad was a baseball enthusiast in his younger days, and he must have thought I would have somehow inherited the same interest.

The scoutmaster who greeted me overheard my dad and politely invited me to cover first base. I grabbed my glove and trotted toward the dusty canvas bag. I had never played first base before. I only played baseball a few times, and I was always out in left field. No sooner had I established my bearings, the batter grounded the ball to the shortstop, who immediately fired it in my direction. I was caught off guard and didn't see it. Not reacting in time to catch the ball, it struck me in the head. I didn't know squat about the game, and I didn't even know why the kid threw the ball to me.

Dinnertime that evening more than made up for my mishap earlier in the day. We cut up onions, peppers, carrots, and potatoes and wrapped them in foil with chunks of beef. We placed the packages in the campfire to cook. It was and still is the best beef stew I ever had.

That night we slept in lean-tos – small shacks with three sides and a pitched roof. Each lean-to had a dirt floor and two large shelves, which served as bunk beds.

The night was oddly cold, even for early April. Snowflakes filled the dark sky where stars should have been. With my belly still full from the hot stew, I wrapped myself in a thin blanket and tried to get some sleep. The wooden bed was hard and frigid, and the open face of the shed did nothing to prevent the cold air from filling the tiny shack. I began to shiver and tried to tighten the light wool blanket around me. My discomfort awakened my room-mate from the bunk below me.

"Are you cold?"

"I'm freezing!"

"Don't you have a sleeping bag?"

"No, just a blanket."

"Here, take this. It's an extra blanket."

"Thanks. Are you sure you don't need it?"

"Not as much as you do."

Somehow, word got out to the next cabin over, and another kid offered me a blanket. Then another scout approached our cabin with more coverings. One more kid again handed me his spare blanket. Now I could see more kids coming with additional layers in their arms. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, I now had a pile of blankets on me. I felt warm but ridiculous! Finally, I had to tell the guys to stop, not that I didn't appreciate their kindness. Later, I was so hot I had to remove several layers.

Story and Cover Illustration Copyright © 2021 by Michael DeFrancesco