I grew up camping with the Boy Scouts and will be forever grateful for the intrepid attitude I developed by learning how to be at home without a building.
My Jamaican ex-mother-in-law was alarmed the first time I took her little girl (a classmate on my first pass through grad school) for a weekend in the woods. She couldn't see how much safer we were at a public campground in NC than she was sleeping indoors in the South Bronx.
We never had the money for expensive gear or understood why anyone would feel the need of it. And both of our biracial children grew up loving camping.
I now insist on luxuries like camp chairs, Coleman stove for fixing breakfast, and (most important) an inflatable bed. What I miss most now (aside from younger knees) is company for sharing all those stars.