Basecamp Dispatch: The Confidence of a Three-Inch Bass

My weekly check-in from the woods, the homestead, or somewhere else with spotty cell service

This week, my granddaughter has repeatedly informed me that she is Ellie. Not Booger. Not Shortie. Not any of the dozen nicknames we throw at her.

She’ll just giggle, throw up her hands, and say, “No. I’m just Ellie.”

She doesn’t try to argue or explain. It’s just a correction. Like we got her name wrong and she’s setting the record straight. And she stands there in it. Completely certain of who she is in that moment.

Man, I wish I had that kind of confidence.

I’ve spent a lot of years trying on ways to describe myself. Mom. Wife. Daughter. Hunter. Writer. Grandmother. They’re all true, but none of them feel quite as simple as what she’s doing right there.

Ellie isn’t trying to be anything else. She isn’t negotiating with the room. She isn’t adjusting herself to fit whatever name someone else tries to stick on her. She isn’t trying to be anything other than what she is.

She just is Ellie.

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What I’m Reading

I’ve been rereading All Over But the Shoutin’ this week. Lord, can Rick Bragg turn a phrase. But none of them feel borrowed. They sound like they could’ve only come from him.

Maybe that’s the lesson. Finding your voice isn’t about inventing one. It’s about having the confidence of a two-year-old and declaring, “No. I’m just me.”

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Outside

It still feels like it’s a bazillion degrees outside. The kind of hot that makes the air feel like a sweater. Only the air is also so thick and damp you almost have to breathe it with a spoon.

I pulled the first zucchini and squash out of the garden, along with more cucumbers than I can keep up with. That means there’s a big ole batch of pickles in my near future.

Then I hit a small farm pond this afternoon and caught some of the tiniest largemouths I’ve ever seen. They weren’t much bigger than the jig I was throwing, but they slammed it like they owned the whole freakin’ pond.

Maybe I need the confidence of a three-inch bass.

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What I’m Carrying

I’m trying to carry the confidence of a two-year-old and a three-inch bass. I suspect they both can teach me a thing or two.

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Where I’ve Been This Week

Hunters Lost Nearly $60,000 in Illegal Alaska Moose Hunt Scheme (MeatEater) -
Prosecutors say nearly 40 hunters who thought they were booking the adventure of a lifetime lost almost $60,000 to an illegal guiding scheme that left some of them stranded in rural Alaska.

What to Look for in a Hunting Camper (MeatEater) -
The right camper can make a great year-round base camp.