Back in the late 60s and early 70s, my family was all about camping. It was a little spot by the creek in Kelletville, the site of an old Civilian Conservation Corps camp from the 1930s. It still had the crumbling remnants of the meeting house on the property. Somehow as a preschooler I got the idea that this was the house where George Washington was born. Probably an idea planted in my head by my older brother and sister! Some of my fondest childhood memories are about this little spot in the woods: swimming in the creek, hikes through the woods, minibike rides, and staying up late around the campfire. Often my grandparents or great-aunts and uncles would come to visit for the evening and tell some great stories from years gone by. My father was a journeyman welder, so he moved from job to job throughout the region as needed. A great summer resulted when it occurred to him that he could just as easily drive to work from Kelletville as from Warren.