Hope was still high, but our bodies ached with exhaustion. As we drifted around a bend, just about on empty, we heard the sounds of salvation. Blasting AC/DC, laughing voices, barbecues, port-a-johns, the real deal. A small crowd came to shore to great us.
When the first question your asked is, "so where do you guys take a crap?" You know they are some laid back people. They had noticed us from the newspaper and TV and pulled us right onto shore, putting us in chairs and placing big Ol' cheeseburgers on our laps.
Dannyland is 5 lots connected together, compiled of campers, tents, houses, docks, canopies, BBQ, loud music, corn hole, good food, and even better people. Families of blood and fellowship, it was the archetype of southern kin.
They treated us so kindly, brought us right into their family. It was made sure we were rolling on the ground laughing within minutes. We were immediately made part of their family of 50. Us not staying the night was not an option. We danced and sang into the night. The hospitalities were unbelievably gracious. It gave me a warmth of being home; I diddnt feel like a river drifter for the night thanks to Dannyland.
I'm still taken back by people's capacity to love and share. It's something to never take for granted. The night was not about jobs or things, but was about people, and treating each other good. They loved our stories, and encouraged our cause. Sharing was the cornerstone of their community, and it was made certain we were a part of that. Never underestimate someone's ability of be kind, and never underestimate yours.
Thank you Dannyland. John Trip, you the man.