Annie, Get Your Gun...and Your Donkey

Over Memorial Day weekend, my dad's side of the family had a picnic. Family picnics are typical of this sort of holiday, however, this was not an average family event. My cousin's husband owns about 100 acres of land in Southern Ohio. What is on this land? Nothin'--no plumbing, no electricity, not shelter--just nature. For those of you who know me, you can guess that I would equate this sort of thing to one of Dante's circles of Hell. I'm not exactly into camping and my love of the outdoors ends at eating al fresco. Nevertheless, we made the hour and a half drive to Southern Ohio to celebrate the holiday with the family.
Now, I realize that some people refer to the residents of Stow as "Stowbillies" because of...well, I don't really know why because we're a pretty standard suburban town. Stow is near Kent, Akron, Hudson, Cuyahoga Falls--all towns that have regular houses with minimal lawn ornaments, country clubs, private gyms, public parks, and lovely town halls. I never thought that this quintessential suburban region was a mere hour drive from a scene out of Deliverance.
When we exited the highway and drove through the country roads, we spotted trailer homes, little run down bars, and more lawn ornaments that you could ever imagine. We drove past what little bit of civilization there was and ended up in the woods without cell phone reception, which is really just dangerous. Following the directions we'd been given, we kept driving until we came upon a dirt path, then turned onto that. Minivans are not really made for off-roading--the ads don't really cater to "the mom who loves adventure." Eventually we saw where everyone was parked. We couldn't park right away, though, since a donkey was blocking our path.
We got out of the car and I quickly realized that flip flops and a sundress were the worst things I could have worn since the grass went up to my knees and I was informed that I would need to check for tics once I left. I felt like I had fallen into some really dumb movie where the city gal is forced to live with the country-folk, kind of like Sweet Home Alabama, except there was no romance or happy ending where I came to embrace the country ways at the end.
The field was scattered with tents and trailers and the entire hippy community left over from the 60s was enjoying freshly roasted pig while shooting off bottle rockets. Most people had been camping there for a couple nights and were thus filthy. About 20 dogs and a crapload of children were running around, while the adults drank some homebrew and started building bonfires. It was like a gypsy encampment. I imagine this is what Cher's childhood was like.
A few of the kids rode ATVs around the place. One 5 year old girl (who I named Ruby Sue) rolled up in this giant ATV and introduced herself. She told me that she goes huntin' all the time but she "ain't caught nothin' bigger than a rabbit yet." She then informed me that she owns her own bow and arrow and gun. Then the donkey started breying and she said, "There goes my donkey, yellin' again." "Oh, it's your donkey?" I asked. "Yeah, of course," she answered, looking at me like its perfectly natural for a 5 year old to have a donkey and a gun and an ATV.
The food all looked really disgusting because it had been sitting out all day being picked over by campers. Fortunately, my mom had brought some chicken, so we snuck back into the van to eat our KFC in the air-conditioned vehicle. Maybe that wasn't in the spirit of the day, but I was done with nature and on the verge of tears thinking about the potential family of tics that had found a new home on my legs.
At night, all the dogs and children were outfitted with glow sticks to keep track of them and everyone else sat around the campfire listening to my cousins play the bongos and guitar. Then my brother, who is a hick at heart, started lighting off fireworks. The day wasn't really my idea of fun, but it was definitely interesting.
As we drove away, we could still hear the sounds of the guitar, children playing, ATVs humming, and a donkey braying. I imagine these are beautiful noises to those who find serenity in nature. To me, these are the sounds of slow torment and good blog material.