When I turned 12, Dad stopped in the middle of a country road off RT 10 near Culver, IN, and put me in the driver's seat. He said, "Son, if you can drive on ice, you can drive on anything."

On the occasional Friday night, he'd have one too many beers, wake me up the next morning at 5am, hand me the truck keys, and say, "Get your A out there."

That propane 'Master Blaster' never quite got the camper above 45F. So at 14, I drove a mile down the road, another down a tree line, then walked another half mile into the woods.I was instructed not to leave the deer stand until 9am, but I rarely made it past 8:30, many times 8.

I'd eat all my snacks within 30 minutes, and those 'hot hands' packets would be exhausted shortly thereafter. I wore two pairs of hand-me-down coveralls, which were at least 3 sizes too big. Sitting there for hours freezing your tail off leads to a lot of introspection, especially in an age before cell phones.What city folk call 'forest bathing' I call childhood.

The positive mental/physical benefits of Teddy Roosevelt's "The Strenuous Life" are far better than living on the internet in the perpetual comfort of 70F HVAC.