The Cooler

Amos bought the cooler for our camping trip up into the Jemez mountains of New Mexico. I wanted to take him to one of the places I grew up going to, and loving. I told him all about my childhood camping trips. Playing in the stream, napping in the tent under the late afternoon shade of the tall mountain trees, eating food cooked over an open fire in a skillet and smelling my dads percolating cowboy coffee first thing in the morning. It was a magical place I told him. so we prepared buying our own camping gear as a young engaged couple. The cooler was made in the USA, which made Amos exceedingly happy, I thought it rather peculiar that he cared. We stocked that cooler with ice, eggs, bacon, orange juice, lunchmeat, and all the things required for a hearty and romantic weekend sleeping in a tent in the mountains. We packed up and drove where the air is at least 20 degrees cooler and the stars shine much brighter in the nighttime sky. I insisted we go way past where the road turns to gravel to find a good spot right next to the mountain stream I played in as a girl. Our intention was to be far away from any fellow campers, you know for the peace and quiet. All the way up that winding mountain road, the Dixie Chicks were singing to my soul, Cowboy Take Me Away. I was all of 22 and newly engaged, what can I say. We unpacked and set up our brand new tent under trees that looked out across the stream and into a valley filled with mountain wildflowers. It was setting up to be a most idyllic time, that is until nightfall. While we couldn't see any fellow campers, we could surely hear them. They were having some kind of mountain rock concert/bender. It was as if Ozzy himself were camped out down the road from our quaint mountain hideaway. Being old at a young age, we were grumpy and frustrated that these fools having a party were ruining our quiet, romantic weekend, I mean as romatic as you can get without showering for three days. We decided to try and go to sleep on our brand new camping air mattress in our brand new tent. As per usual, Amos was sleeping rather quickly, while I lay awake listening to the more youthful group partying down the road. At some point I dozed off, only to awaken to intruders in our campsite. I laid there listening and thought, its the party coming to take our stuff! I shook Amos from his snoring slumber and whispered frantically that someone was robbing us! I asked if he had locked the truck and where was the rifle he brought, you know, in case of bears. He sleepily told me to calm down, the rifle was locked in the truck (fat lot of good that will do us when a bear comes for us in our tent) and it was probably just raccoons coming for food scraps. The cooler was indeed outside the vehicle but closed tight and everything should be fine. Amos immediately fell back to sleep while I stayed away listening to supposed raccoons take our things. I laid there in frustration and again shook Amos and insisted it was NOT raccoons, but human thieves taking our precious things. Once again he told me raccoons and said I needed to relax and just try and sleep. The next morning, as we unzipped our tent to the fresh morning air, we saw that our cooler was indeed missing. I told him, I TOLD YOU SO AMOS HOOKER. He was still standing by his raccoon theory and suggested we walk on down the path and see if said raccoons carried it a little ways down the road. So we put on our shoes and walked on down the little dirt road to eventually find our cooler left in the center of the road. When we opened the lid, the only thing missing was the orange juice. Turns out Ozzy and his buddies thought our cooler would be filled with booze nad beer and came to partake in the wee hours of the morning. Joke was on them, because while we were both in our 20s at the time, we really act like grumpy old 70 year olds coming to the mountains for the bird watching, the fresh air, and the peace and quiet. I guess they decided they could use the orange juice for thier vodka or mimosas. I gloated that those were some very particular raccoons as we both carried the orange juiceless cooler back to the campsite. We were sure to lock it up the next night in the vehicle. All these years later, I still tease Amos about those raccoons and gloat about my instinct on things. All these years later we still have that same made in the UsA cooler we bought as a newly engaged couple. Its gone on family camping trips, cross country road trips, and held many a birhtday party beverage for each of our 5 kids. Its been a good cooler. This summer our kids broke the aging rubber hinges that held the lid to the base. I, much like Job's wife in the Bible, scoffed at Amos and told him to throw that old thing away (You know curse God and die for coolers sort of thing). I reasoned it was time for a nice new model, you know coolers are pretty fancy these days. Then I reminded him of the time the raccoons came for our orange juice and how I was right all along. Listen to a womans gut I told him. He quietly put the cooler away in the garage and insisted he could probably buy new hinges for it. I snorted and went inside with the kids. A few days later some hinges showed up in the mail.

Amos fixed our cooler good as new this week, she is ready for a few more crazy trips and get togethers I'm sure. Its just like Amos to not give up on things, just because they need a little repair. He sure hasn't given up on me after 18 years. Moral of the story is find a cowboy (remember earlier Dixie Chicks reference) who will take you camping high up in the mountains. A cowboy who isn't afraid to fix whats broken, but sometimes can't tell the difference between humans and raccoons. Maybe someday if you are ever at one of my children's birthday parties, and you see a big silver Coleman cooler, go ahead and ask Amos about that time a bunch of raccoons stole our orange juice and left our cooler in the middle of the road. As long as we can keep laughing at ourselves, and we hold on to those who help to repair our broken pieces, instead of just throwing us away, we will all be alright.