From a comment to a Joel Achenbach posts--Achenblog: Daily Humor and Observations from Joel Achenbach: "The biggest cross-generational shock when my son became a Boy Scout was the ubiquity of propane camp stoves. It seems so few places allow open fires for cooking, that it has become a necessity."
I remember from childhood the romantic pictures of people around campfires, faces highlighted with the light from the fire. Not that I ever experienced that, although we did cook marshmallows once on sticks over a small fire in the yard. And it was standard practice to burn our paper trash (we lived in the country).
What's the romance in a propane stove?
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