Twilight falls over a nearby lake as you stand at the foot of the picnic table and scrape the remnants of Hamburger Helper into a garbage bag. Hamburger Helper again? For the third night in a row? Why, of course — and scalloped potatoes from a box, too. You finish scraping the dishes and pile them into a tub of hot water.
The water was boiled in a dented kettle over the same Coleman stove you have brought on every summer vacation since, well, since … it doesn’t really matter. It’s been around for as long as you can remember. You have, after all, been doing this thing called camping since you were very young.