Kegger Chronicle · People & Culture
On romance, camping, and the Kegger Backpack — advice from a man who has been there
John Baird has been coming to the Kegger since the early years, introduced to the party by Phil Webster with the assurance that there would be food and beer at the end of the trail. He has since established himself as the Kegger's foremost authority on advice — particularly regarding romance, gear, and the correct behavior of husbands. Write to John with your questions about anything. His advice is free and unconditional.
Dear John,
I keep trying to get my boyfriend to come on the Kegger, but he just refuses. What should I do?
— Signed, Lonely
Dear Lonely,
Just leave him home. I know guys like that. Won't try anything new! Let me tell you this — if he came, you'd be miserable. He'd have you running around getting stuff for him. So leave him home! And come find me when you arrive.
— John
Dear John,
Every year my husband makes me carry all the gear, pitch the tent and do all the cooking. I don't mind that, but gathering and chopping the firewood is too much. And if I forget something he yells and screams something awful. What should I do?
— Signed, Overworked and Under-appreciated
Dear Overworked,
This year, forget your husband. That scumbag does not deserve you! And come find me when you arrive.
— John
Dear John,
I never know what clothes to bring on the Kegger. It might rain or snow, or I might go swimming all the time. Usually it's so hot. Any advice on what clothes to bring to ensure that I'll have a good time and be properly geared?
— Signed, Clueless
Dear Clueless,
Well, you need good boots… and a small, sleek bathing suit for the hot days… and I think that's it! And come find me when you arrive.
— John
Dear John,
I'm so glad for your advice column on the Kegger Backpack home page. I desperately need some guidance. My six teenage daughters are insisting that they be allowed to come on the Kegger Backpack this June. You gotta help me out.
They are great kids, good grades, all are cheerleaders at their high school and on the swimming and gymnastics teams. The oldest, Jasmine and Aron, are twins and want to be physical therapists. Savanna is going into modeling. I'm not sure about the other three. It just doesn't seem right taking teenage girls to the Kegger Backpack. What should I and their mother do? Could you help me keep them out of trouble?
— Thanks, Lock-Em-Up Dad
Dear Dad,
I appreciate your ambivalence. Every uptight and overprotective dad gets a little concerned when their beautiful and nubile daughters start to spread their wings, wanting to experience everything life has to offer. But my advice is simple: relax!
What better place could there be for you to bring your fine family? Just think — the entire family, growing together around the campfire. Long, intellectual conversations with some of the most influential people in the world. Swimming at B.A.S. with their Uncle John. Hiking through some of the most beautiful scenery in the world! And all the while, they will be away from the corrupting influence of their peers, TV, and that heartless world we must deal with on a daily basis.
Dad, this is a blessed opportunity for your family!!! And just in case you're worried about those mischievous little girls in the middle of the night, they can stay in my large family tent where they will be safe.
— John
Dear John,
Where were you last year! You said you would be there to take care of me and you never showed up! You dog! I was so nervous, I left early Sunday morning. After all those emails of encouragement you sent. I felt I knew you so well. All those sweet things you wrote to me. The hours we spent in chat rooms! I thought I knew you even though I had never seen you. I was just dying to meet you.
After hours of chatting, we decided what I'd bring. We had planned out our meals and I brought all this food. Will you come next year? And don't give me any of that “The boat will be in the water” crap. You promised!
John, I'm not a teenager anymore. I turned 20 years old last Christmas. See my picture.
Be there this year or I'll kill you. (And don't worry — Dad won't really lock me and the sisters up.)
— Love always, Aron
Dear Aron,
Please please forgive me. I now realize I made a dreadful mistake.
Last year I was on my way. After driving that morning from Wyoming, where I was helping to rebuild an orphanage, I arrived at the parking lot at about 3:30am Sunday morning. I immediately packed up and started hiking down to the island. I don't know exactly what happened after that. I remember carrying the six-packs of Guinness Dark, the gallon of Ripple wine, the J.B., the Vodka, and the blueberry snaps. I wanted to surprise you with these gifts. I was just as excited as you, Aron.
Well — actually, I had a little nightcap first. And then again on the way down. I was crazy to find you. I'd only had an 18-hour drive to get there. It must have just done me in. The next thing I know it was Sunday afternoon and I was wedged into a big crack of granite somewhere way off the path. I'm now thinking I was chased by a bear, fell, and knocked myself out.
Aron honey, I'll be there this year for sure!
— John
Write to John's Advice Column with questions about anything — romance, camping, gear, difficult life situations, husbands, boyfriends, or what to bring on the Kegger.
Send your question to: Philnowsays@gmail.com — subject line: “Dear John”
John's advice is offered in good faith and with enthusiasm. Results may vary. John's whereabouts on any given Kegger weekend cannot be guaranteed.