Reminiscent of childhood

We struggle along the highway 16 or 17 miles, battling miserably vicious winds until eventually arriving at the town of Belt, presumably named after the Little Belt Mountains, in the shadow of which  it lies. An informative plaque in the commercial district says that coal was discovered here in the 1870s and became a springboard, launching this little canyon town into prominence.

We enter the Fort Ponderosa Campground on the east end of town and I sign in with Mike, the newly appointed proprietor. Apparently, he's come with his wife May to get things up and running again. Because the owner passed away and the grounds haven't been tended, several things are in need of repair.

Well, our camp's up in a jiff, so I decide to walk the grounds and check things out.

There's an engraved sign above a door that reads 'scullury,' but the red paint is peeling badly revealing decay in the wood, and a cadmium foam sealant oozes from all the seams alleging that this kitchen hasn't seen a cook for a while.
The barn is decorated with a great number of antiquated tools, bits and bops left from a simpler, agrarian age.
The bathrooms have a scent reminiscent of a camp I vaguely recall from my childhood, sort of a musky, damp, earthy smell, and scattered on the floors are the same roughly woven rainbow colored rugs that my grandma used to have.
I envision a once elaborately constructed entrance and hear the excited voices of thousands of children exclaiming:

'We're here! We're here!'

Now those voices are faint echos. An insipid island with a few barren trees tries to welcome visitors, but its moat is devoid of water and cracks in the concrete are visible in places where leaves and dirt have failed to clothe.

Someone once invested  a tremendous part of his life to make this campground a vibrant and magnificent get away. I suspect that he probably poured his heart and soul into this place, making it a joy for countless families.

Looking at the run down playgrounds with its broken seesaw and rusted old maypole, I feel a deep sense of remorse.
I hope Mike and May can make it shine again for a new generation to enjoy.