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Dad camping with his kids shared the handwritten note left on his car from a fellow camper

More of this, please.

Photo credit: Canva, Note image via RCampR6/Reddit

A dad got a sweet note from a fellow father after camping with his kids.

One of the hardest parts of being a parent is never being sure whether you're doing a good job or totally bombing it. If you're conscientious enough to even wonder if you're a good parent, you probably are, but parenting entails a million little choices and interactions, and there's always a lingering voice in your head saying, "What if you're really screwing this whole thing up?"

Reassurance and encouragement are always appreciated by parents, but not always received, which is why a note from one camping dad to another has people celebrating the kindness of anonymous strangers.

"You are killing it as a dad."

Someone on Yosemite Reddit thread shared a photo of a handwritten note with the caption, "To the man who left this thoughtful note on my windshield at Lower Pines Campground this weekend, I extend my heartfelt gratitude; your acknowledgment of my efforts to be a good father means a great deal to me."


Windshield Note.
byu/RCampR6 inYosemite

The note reads:

"Bro,

I camped in the spot behind you last night. Let me just say, you are killing it as a dad. First off, I watched your wife guide you in as you backed up your trailer and nailed it on the first try without any yelling. Then your kids unloaded from the truck and were mild-mannered and well behaved. You told stories around the campfire and I had the pleasure of listening to the sounds of giggles and laughter.

From one dad to another, you are killing it. Keep it up.

P.S. Whatever you cooked for dinner smelled delicious!"

How often do we share these thoughts with strangers, even if we have them? And who wouldn't love to get a surprise bit of praise with specific examples of things we did right?

Everyone needs to hear a compliment once in a while.

So many people found the note to be a breath of fresh air and a good reminder to compliment people when we feel the urge:

"That would make any daddy's eyes water."

"It’s always nice, as a guy, to get a compliment."

"I complimented a guy's glasses at work (I'm also a guy, and btw they were really cool glasses, I wasn't just being nice) and now he keeps trying to tell me where he got his glasses and how I should get some. But I'm just having to be polite because I already have glasses and I'm not in the market. I finally had to tell him I'm not going to buy them lmao I just like them on him.

Made me feel like that's the first compliment he's had in years because he can't stop talking about it. Also I mainly liked the glasses because I think he's cute but he really thinks it's just the glasses haha jokes on him that cute bastard."

via GIPHY

"I was in the store with my wife and one of our 'adopted nephews' yesterday (we’re close friends with his parents and we’ve known him and his brother since they were newborns and 2yo, respectively). A woman came up to me at checkout while my wife was running out to the car and said 'I’m not sure what your family relationship is here, but I just have to tell you how nice and refreshing it is to hear all the laughter and joy from the 3 of you. You both seem like such a good influence on him and it warms my heart.' It’s such a small thing but as a dude, I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a compliment in public and it made my freaking day."

"10/10 letter. The and not yelling part gave me a good chuckle lol."

"We need so much more of men getting such heartfelt and sincere compliments. Thanks for sharing. ❤️"

"I’ve never considered leaving a note, but when I see a harmonious family with good parenting, it’s healing for me. My childhood was awful."

"Such an awesome compliment! Even though I don't have children myself, I like to remind my friends too that they're doing great & it brings them happy tears."

via GIPHY

"This made me cry. I love that you are getting your 'flowers.' My dad sucked, I’m so glad you are one of the good ones."

"This made me cry too. It’s so hard to be a human. Let alone a parent. Getting a good job sticker every now and then really means a lot these days."

"I'm a big bearded guy and I would cry if I got this note. More people like this, please."

The best part of this story is that no one knows who the dad who wrote the note is, not even the dad who shared it. It wasn't written for clout or notoriety, it wasn't to get attention or make himself look good. No name or signature, just an anonymous act of kindness to uplift a stranger whether he needed it or not.

We all need to hear or read kind things said about us, and sometimes it means even more coming from an anonymous stranger who has nothing to gain by sharing. A good reminder to share it when you feel it—you never know how many people you may move and inspire.

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Go exploring with Outdoor Afro, the group helping black people get back to nature.

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REI

"I opened my mouth and my life fell out."

That's how Rue Mapp felt in 2009 when she first shared the idea for Outdoor Afro, a blog to reconnect African-American people with the outdoors.

"And that was a surprising moment, one of those moments where all those things that you just take for granted about who you are come into really sharp focus."

Mapp whitewater rafting. Photo via Rue Mapp, used with permission.

Before she founded Outdoor Afro, Rue Mapp came of age in the great outdoors.

She grew up in Oakland, but her family had a ranch 100 miles north of the city. Mapp grew up hunting, stargazing, fishing, and participating in Girl Scouts. Her parents raised animals, preserved food, and made wine. Her family often hosted large gatherings of friends and people from church.

"So having this thread of nature and hospitality instilled in me at a very young age has become the centerpiece of Outdoor Afro today."

Mapp rock climbing. Photo via Rue Mapp, used with permission.

In 2009, she started Outdoor Afro, a blog that soon became much more.

At first, she shared her own stories of growing up in the fresh air and how her experiences as a child and young woman shaped her in the best ways. Before long, other African-American outdoor enthusiasts started following her and chatting online. Mapp was pleasantly surprised to learn she wasn't alone.

Since then, the program has moved beyond the web to local meetups.

There are now Outdoor Afro chapters in 30 states. Each group holds open events and programs, including hikes and walks, camping trips, rock climbing, local farm tours, river rafting, and more. If it's outside, someone in the group is probably willing to give it a try.

An Outdoor Afro meetup on the water. Photo via Rue Mapp, used with permission.

The programs and trips are led by volunteer Outdoor Afro leaders.

They're not professional mountain climbers or adventure athletes; they're often professionals with a fondness for the outdoors: more community organizer than wilderness expert.

"Outdoor Afro leaders don't need to be the one that has all the gear and expertise," Mapp says. "We want people who can connect-in with other people."

Outdoor Afro leaders at a training session. Photo via Rue Mapp, used with permission.

Brittany Leavitt, an early education teacher, discovered Outdoor Afro on a blog and decided to give the group a shot and is now their D.C. leader. Stefan Moss, an environmental science professor and leader of Outdoor Afro-Atlanta joined the group to find more outdoor activities for his young family. Plus, getting outside helps him feel more connected with the world.

"Through outdoor activities I find a deeper understanding of meaning and purpose as I observe the natural order and the way in which things interact with each other," he writes in an email.

Outdoor Afro Leader Stefan Moss takes it all in. Photo via Stefan Moss, used with permission.

That's what's so powerful about Outdoor Afro. It's not just about getting outside, it's about getting outside with black people.

While everyone is welcome at Outdoor Afro events, the meetups and programs are designed by African-American people to encourage African-American people to explore together.

"In the outdoors we can celebrate our humanity and our melanin, without intimidation or judgment," Moss says.

Members meet up for a hike. Photo via Rue Mapp, used with permission.

Members can also celebrate the unique and often forgotten relationships black people have to outdoors. From the Buffalo Soldiers of the Old West to the Selma to Montgomery National Historic Trail in Alabama, there's world of history to take in. Leavitt planned a four-day backpacking trip through the Appalachian Trail, mirroring part of Harriet Tubman's route to freedom.

"It was really fun," Leavitt says. "We had seven outdoor leaders total, and two people who were brand new to backpacking."

Hiking the Maryland section of the Appalachian Trail. Photo via Brittany Leavitt, used with permission.

Communing with each other became especially important in the wake of violent and hurtful attacks against African-American people.

After Ferguson, Mapp braced for a long night of protests and demonstrations in her hometown of Oakland. Like many people, she felt heartbroken and wondered what she could do to "show up" for the movement. She reached out to partner organizations and launched the first of many  Healing Hikes, a chance for Outdoor Afro participants to collect their thoughts, share, and reflect together in natural spaces.

Photo via Rue Mapp, used with permission.

"The following weekend we had ... about 30 people show up in the Oakland Hills, and we started off with some yoga and some intention-setting, and we worked our way down into the Redwood Forest."

Soon the group found themselves hiking along a beautiful stream and the weight of history and purpose immediately struck Mapp.

"It was this clear epiphany that we were doing what African-Americans have always known we could do, and that's to lay down our burdens down by the riverside," Mapp says. "We were doing something that was in our DNA to do."

Finally tried out this whole selfie stick thing. #HealingHikes with #GoodPeople 💙

A photo posted by Jesstastic 😎😘✌🏾️🌟 (@missjessica2u2) on

It's easy to feel intimidated by the great outdoors, but it's important to get out anyway.

You don't have to have all the gear or all of the answers, just a willingness to follow through on your curiosity. You may already be more outdoorsy than you realize. If you grill out, garden, or walk your neighborhood, you're farther along than you think.

"If you like to walk, consider a hike at a national park. If you like to swim find the most scenic lake or beach in your area and swim there," Moss says. "Have fun, take lots of pictures and celebrate your own connection to the outdoors!"

In other words: Get outside and let your life fall out.

Go ahead, take it all in. Photo via Stefan Moss, used with permission.

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The ridiculously terrible mother-daughter camping trip that taught me when to let go.

One woman's Mother's Day tribute to her strong, nonconforming mom.

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Mothers Everywhere

I’m not sure if it was my idea to join Girl Scouts or if it was my mother’s.

In September 1998, I was starting fourth grade in a new school, and I was really looking forward to rebranding myself. Small and shy, I had enjoyed origami club at my old school, and I spent my weekends reading "Little House on the Prairie." But faced with a whole new peer group to befriend, I determined that I should be less of a "weirdo."

I quickly picked up that in our new town, playing sports was the quickest route to popularity and a sense of belonging. But given my size and aversion to running, I quickly ruled that out as a viable option. Some of the cool girls were joining Girl Scouts, though, and I loved nature.

Image via iStock.

My mother is an artist and a wholly sophisticated person.

Before my brother and I arrived, she worked in fashion: living in Greenwich Village and flying to Paris and Milan for runway shows. While she raised us, she designed and painted textiles from our home, taking the train into Brooklyn for painting seminars on the weekends.

My mother’s studio in 1996. Photo by the author, used with permission.

I spent most of my early years playing on the floor of her studio, surrounded by art supplies from Pearl Paint (RIP), rummaging through her sketchbooks and fabric swatches.

For my mother, and for me, fitting into our new suburban town did not come naturally.

It seemed like everyone else’s dad worked on Wall Street, and everyone else’s mom drove a Chevy Suburban. The town had three separate soccer leagues: one recreational, one school-run, and one competitive. Later, in my angsty teenage years, I would not be able to imagine why my parents chose to move to such a homogenous, boring place.

Of course, I know now that every single thing my parents did between 1985 and 2010 was for my benefit. My mother saw the good schools and the safe neighborhoods and resigned herself to coexisting with J.Crew-clad peers for the next decade. But at 9 years old, I was determined to fit in — come hell or high water.

The first official Girl Scout trip of the 1998-1999 school year was to Hershey, Pennsylvania.

We were going to visit the amusement park, see how Hershey kisses were made, and most importantly, camp next to an actual river. I had lucked into bunking with three extremely popular girls, and my excitement level was high. If my mom was less enthused about the trip, she didn’t let on, but she was concerned about the weather — there was heavy rain predicted all weekend.


Photo via iStock.

While the three other girls packed their sleeping bags into my mom’s car, she talked to the troop leader about the impending downpour headed our way and got the brush off: We weren’t worried about a little rain! We were Girl Scouts. We would tough it out. Not wanting to be alarmist, my mother decided to go with the flow.

I don’t remember much about the amusement park or how Hershey kisses are made, but I do remember what a lime green Girl Scouts of America tent looks like as it gets washed away in a flash flood.

The campsite “next to a river” turned out to be in a literal river basin. By day two of our trip, it became apparent that the rain was going to be a little more than we’d bargained for. After a soggy lunch on the second day, we returned to find the campsite in very different conditions than when we’d left. The peaceful green river was now muddy and brown, surging, and full of debris.

Photo via iStock.

The water in our camp was knee-high, and as everyone scrambled to move their possessions to higher ground, my mother registered two things: The river was already lapping over the sides of the only bridge out of there and the campsite closest to it was completely underwater.

She made an executive decision: We were done going with the flow; the flow was now a whitewater rapid.

As a tent from the campsite next-door bobbed away downriver, my mom threw me and my backpack into her car and peeled out of the parking lot in her Swedish sports car.

Somewhere in her rearview mirror, a group of blonde women in Hunter boots and North Face fleeces continued “toughing it out.”

They all survived, of course. Apparently camps were assembled in a nearby parking lot, and it amuses me now to imagine what the rest of the trip must’ve looked like. I picture 20 soggy 9-year-olds camping between SUVs, their mothers resolutely singing the Girl Scout smile song over the sounds of a raging river, never conceding defeat.

I spent another four years trying to get mean girls who played sports to like me before I transitioned seamlessly into the aforementioned angsty teenager phase.

But I’m fairly certain that for my mother the charade ended in that very moment, while dragging a 10-year-old and her pink sleeping bag through knee-deep amusement park water.

She was just plain out, and she gave not one thought to the opinions of others in that moment.

It took me another decade or so of growing up to understand the real lesson in my mother's decision during that camping trip.

We’re always taught to never give up — “don’t be a quitter” — but honestly, what does “not giving up” look like in a flash flood?

When you’re slogging it out, giving something your all, don’t you ever stop and think, "Even if I could eventually break through this brick wall with my bare hands, do I really want to spend the next five years clawing at it?"

I suppose it depends on what’s on the other side, but sometimes I really think it takes a stronger person to back up, redirect, and choose a new goal. It’s something my mother does well and something I wish I did better.

These days, when I’m staring at the proverbial brick wall, trying to figure out why it still doesn’t like me, I try to recall the look on my mother’s face as she watched that tent float away downriver.

And I laugh, and remember that sometimes it’s just not worth it.

Pre trick-or-treating 1998, just after realizing that everyone else was going as a Spice Girl. Hand-made costume by my mother, of course.

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