I heard from one of my sisters that John Camp passed away last week, at the fine age of 91. He was my father’s last fishing partner, and his obituary includes a sentence about their pursuit of catfish on the Wapsipinnicon River over the years. (I’ve pasted the obituary at the end.)
Dad had three great fishing partners in that part of his life when I was aware of such things, generally his mid 30s until his own death at age 91 in 2021. The first was my uncle Gabby Fletcher, a partnership I well remember. Gabby had Mondays off from being produce manager at Barnes grocery store in DeWitt, and Dad arranged his own work (first delivering fuel oil, then co-owning and driving a trash truck) to match. Dad had a large flat bottom boat that could navigate shallow water, good for getting over sandbars, and they’d launch before dawn and fish until they caught their limits (in those days, 16 fish per person), which might take until late morning or, horrors, early afternoon, by which time the Cubs game (then always in the day, first pitch 1:10 pm) would be on Gabby’s transistor radio.
When Gabby suddenly died around 1990, Dad started fishing with Ray Cole, a little older than him. I remembered Ray as the operator of a Shell gas station in town. He was characteristically buck toothed with a big sense of humor and a big heart. His wife, Helen, happily cooked fish and hosted late afternoon drinks at their house after Dad retired. Dad was a fan of Black Velvet whiskey and Seven Up, never more than one, but that one was plenty stiff. After Ray passed, if you were visiting my parents and Dad offered you “a mixed drink,” that’s what you were getting. On the night before his funeral, all of my siblings gathered a last time at the old house on 6th Avenue. Dick and Nancy Capper brought over a bunch of fried chicken, and we sat on the patio, with the last bottle of Black Velvet from the house.
John Camp was later and last. He was one of “the Charlotte relatives,” mysterious folks we saw only at reunions whose connection to you, at least when you were a kid, was always mysterious. Occasionally, Christmas parties would happen at the Lutheran Church in Charlotte (note to outsiders: it’s char LOTTE, not like the North Carolina city), occasionally at my Aunt Gail’s small cafe there. John’s mother, my Aunt Erana, was my Grandma Krukow’s sister, and when I read the obituary, all these names reappear through the haze of history: Paul, Nan, Noel, Gail, and Fawn, those last two still living and but three of their generation. I saw them at my Aunt Diane’s funeral in May.
Dad had three friends that spanned sixty years of his life, men with whom he spent at least one day a week and, later in life, many.
I’m struck that I have not had such friends, at least not in the fashion of Dad’s weekly/daily interactions. I’ve been friends with several men over the years: Dennis, Kaj, Ron, Kim, and Dan. The closest I’ve had to Dad’s fishing calendar was playing racquetball at 6:30 am every Friday with Dan and my still great friends Susan and Laurence, then having breakfast. But that was now 20 years ago, and I’ve made myself no rituals to match those days.
One reason I retired was to challenge myself to elevate friendships a deeper part of my life, with men like Richard, Bob, Tom, with women like Wendy, Susan, Barb, Jennifer, and others. A consequence of having put a lot of energy into national disciplinary efforts over the past 40 years is that I have lots of professional friends, whom I also have come to value on personal levels, people like Erika, Anne, Kathi, and so many more. I treasure them. But we’re not going fishing each Monday on the Wapsi or drinking Black Velvet at 5:00 pm. Instead, we cross paths now and then, Brigadoon fashion, at professional meetings. Now that I’m retired, those meetings fade perhaps permanently into the moorish mists.
I wonder. Is the way we live now amenable to having deep ongoing friendships, anchored in quotidian routines and interactions? Sure, even though transitory lifestyles make some challenges–especially for someone like me, who’s been so beguiled by career connections as to compartmentalize my local world. The question isn’t whether the world fosters such friendships but, rather, whether a deep introvert, albeit one who seems to have faked out the world, can muster them in his last third.
Such are Monday morning thoughts on learning that Dad’s last fishing partner has died.
Obituary for John W. Camp
John Walter Camp, born May 5, 1933, the second twin of Walter Camp and Erana Hoffman Camp. John was baptized into the family of Christ on June 4th 1933. He was confirmed at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Charlotte. IA on March 30th 1947. He graduated from Charlotte High School. John served in the United States Army from 1952 to 1954. Much of that time, he was stationed in Germany. He married Carole Hackett on June 17, 1956 at Chancey Lutheran Church in Clinton, Iowa. John drove truck several years for C&S Trucking in Charlotte. In 1961, John and Carole moved to the family farm at Riggs Station.
Throughout the years, he continued to drive truck and farm. John was an avid hunter and trapper, earning him the nickname “Skinner.” Among all his hobbies, one of his favorite pastimes was fishing, especially fishing for catfish on the Wapsi River with Don Hesse. He enjoyed gardening, often taking much of his produce to the farmers market with his wife Carole.
He is survived by his wife of 68 years, Carole. His children Cindy Diedrich (Dan) of Charlotte, Lee Camp (Sue, now passed) of Clinton, Jay Camp (Tina) of Charlotte, and Heather (Brian) Stoecker of Charlotte. John is also survived by eight grandchildren, and six great-grandchildren. Sisters Gail Adrian and Fawn Heil.
John passed away, Thursday, September 12, 2024. He is proceeded in death by his parents, his twin brother Paul, and sisters Nan Robins and Noel Hertensen and daughter in law Sue Camp.
Visitation will be Thursday, September 19, 2024 at the Immanuel Lutheran Church – Charlotte. Funeral Services will be 10:00am on Friday at the church. Burial will be in the Rossiter Cemetery with military honors being conducted by the Clinton AMVETS. Serving as pallbearers will be Kevin Horan, Gary Steen, Don Luskey and grandsons Jordan Camp, Cody Diedrich, Tevin Stoecker; Honorary pallbearers will be Gary and Jeanee Horan. The Snell-Zornig Funeral Homes – Clinton is in charge of arrangements.
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