First words off my lips as I bounded off the school bus every summer: "Wheeeere's Uncle Dan?"
And there he'd be. That tall, lanky man with the curly ,close cropped hair standing just beyond the flag circle with a cup of coffee just grinning from ear to ear - Waiting for about a million gazillion hugs from the Hazelton girls and about a million other little campers. First words out of his mouth; "Do ya'll remember the first time I put you up on a horse? All THREE of you fell off at the same time!" And then he would laugh that smooth, coffee, ciigie laugh and get so tickled he would choke. It would always seem like it happened just the day before when he told that story. He would laugh every time just as hard as the day it happened. His blue eyes would sparkle and shine, and I knew I was home.
Home for the summer. Camp Dakani. From age 4-18. Home meant days spent soaking up the sunshine, swinging on those freaking awesome swings strung from trees hanging over Harrison Creek, and always, always hanging on to EVERY moment possible with Uncle Dan. That poor man. He found no rest with us around. We'd go up to the house and bug his wife Hazel as to his whereabouts if we didn't see him.
And every Tuesday night, no matter WHAT, we were gonna go frog hunting. Dan would pull into Dakani at midnight, I am sure in retrospect dog tired from his swing shift at OG&E, and meet about 10 little girls ready for a canoe sojourn down Harrison Creek to catch some big bullfrogs. Not to eat! No, no, these frogs were destined for the weekly frog race at Dakani. After the race, they'd be set back free to bask along the banks of the creek, most assuredly awaiting their next race the following week.
And there we'd be: The Fike sisters, the Hazelton girls, the Boggs, Joella and Tammy and Teresa. We'd put in along the low water crossing and begin our hunt. Dan would paddle up the creek in a canoe filled to the brim with giggling, squirming, screaming little girls and did so with the patience of Jobe.
"Now shine the flashlight along the banks. You gotta blind 'em." He'd always say it in a quiet little whisper.
And bingo! There would be two white orbs glowing back at us about a foot or two off the bank. Dan would paddle so quietly up and angle the canoe just so. You could hear a pin drop. Then Cheri Hazelton, the champion frog catcher out of all of us, would grab the frog from behind, being careful not to break the beam of the flashlight, and haul that big bullfrog into the canoe. That's when the pandemonium would erupt. Girls screaming as Cheri brought the squirming frog back to where I held the toad sack. The canoe would be rocking back and forth, girls would be scrambling to get away from the frog and through it all, Dan held the canoe steady while laughing hysterically at all of us.
Steady..... And sure and right and salt of the earth and loved beyond all imagination. That was our Uncle Dan.
Ratio of frogs caught to mosquito bites 1:16. Ratio of frogs caught to Uncle Dan's laughing fits- 1:25. Ratio of frogs caught to happiest memories of HUNDREDS of kids. 1: Infinity
