The Cabin Guest With The Big Melons

  One of my fondest memories from childhood is the annual family camping trip.  My father would pile us into the back of his powder blue Ford station wagon. That's how we traveled, nestled safely in the back by lots and lots of pillows and blankets.  This was before the days of seat belts.  He always left home before dawn, so we slept most of the way there.  He always stopped at the same gas station for a potty break.  We always bought chocolate milk and honey buns.  He always bought a bag of shelled salted peanuts he could shake and pour into his mouth while driving.  We never really went far from home.  We always visited a Virginia State Park.
   Early on, we ventured to places like Fairy Stone State Park, Douthat, Hungry Mother, etc.  And even though my dad did his best to incorporate some kind of historical discussion into the trips, we weren't much interested in the history.  To us, it was just summer vacation, our much deserved break from textbooks and grades.  No one cared about civil war battlefields (too much like homework) when we could go swimming, hiking, horseback riding, or hunting for the fossilized tears angels had shed at the death of Jesus (AKA Fairy Stones).
   It wasn't long before we chose a favorite place.  Once it was chosen, we pretty much spent every year there.  That place, to us, became a second home.  Even with the snakes, ticks, and bats, it never seemed to let us down.  That place was Staunton River State Park.  Hidden down a seemingly endless country road, Staunton River State Park still holds the best of my childhood memories.  http://www.dcr.virginia.gov/state_parks/sta.shtml
   We began our visits to the campground in tents, progressed to a small pop up Cox camper, then eventually became annual cabin guests.  It was like going up town.  Segregated from the other campers, cabin guests received free admission to the camp's Olympic size swimming pool.  Though the "V.S.P." on the cabin guest pin they gave us to wear most likely stood for Virginia State Parks, we would never have believed it.  Too us, it stood for Very Special Person.
   Most days were spent lounging by the pool, innocently flirting with handsome lifeguards.  We would slip quarters into the jukebox just to hear the latest ZZ Top tune.  Surrounded by brothers at home, you might say Staunton River was where I learned how to be a teenage girl.
   When it was quiet, and the pool had closed for the day, I would hike down to "the point".  The point was what they called the area at the edge of the park where the Buggs Island Lake met the Staunton River.  I hadn't seen many places in my young life more visually stunning than this and it left a lasting impression.  I'm sure its changed.  I've seen so much more of this world since then, it most likely will seem smaller if nothing else.  But in my memory, it will always be a cherished place.
    Well, when we weren't at the pool or taking private hikes around the park, we were taking in the area's unique hometown charms.  We never failed to spend at least one evening at the South Boston Speedway, and, if we were really lucky, we'd catch a parade, a local fair or even a festival.  

  Its not unusual that I thought of Staunton River this morning.  For some reason, I always do when the seasons change and we cut into that first ripe cantaloupe.  Of all the family things we did on those camping trips, what I remember most was the day we went to the cantaloupe festival.  I don't remember when we went or how long it took to get there.  We didn't know what to expect.  It wasn't a planned excursion.  We just happened upon it one day when we needed a break from the pool.  I remember cantaloupes everywhere as far as the eye could see.  They were enormous, the size of small watermelons.  It seems every year since then, I have compared cantaloupes to those I tasted on that day so long ago.  Back then, I didn't know how nutritious they were.  I didn't know about the potassium, the vitamin B6, the dietary fiber, or the niacin (vitamin B3).  I didn't know about the fiber, or the fact that they were fat and cholesterol free.  I was a kid.  I didn't care.  They were juicy, messy, and as sweet as candy.  And I have never tasted a cantaloupe like them since.
   This morning, we cut into a cantaloupe I bought at Target...of all places.  It was sweet and juicy, but even so...it didn't compare.  I don't know.  Maybe my childhood memory has tainted all other cantaloupes.  But, maybe, one day I'll get out to the Cantaloupe festival again.  Thanks to the internet, I've just discovered that they still have them.  Will they be the same as I remember?  Probably.  I have faith.  I know in my heart out there, in that part of Virginia, they know how to grow a cantaloupe.     
http://www.valopefest.com/default.htm