Camp Memories

Eight pairs of socks rolled up neatly and labeled. One set for each boy. Eight sets of underwear rolled up neatly and labeled. One set for each boy. Shorts, shirts, sweatshirts, flashlights, stamps (in case they wanted to send a note home!) and extra sneakers knowing they would wade in the water and run through the woods. Pack it all up in the old van and then drive around town to pick up their friends for their week’s adventure. First, we picked up Curt Hasselman, Abe’s best friend. Then it was off to the Farnham’s to pick up Dan and Matt. There were others but with my three and those three, the van was full. All the way to Conservation Camp they sang, they laughed, they joked. I drove carefully knowing I had a car full of precious, funny boys. 

When we arrived, we checked in. I gave permission for medical care should the need arise…kissed my three fondly (even with their “Mom!” voices) and home I went. I drove the empty van home smiling all the way, knowing how much fun they would have, and I had a week off from bugs and butterflies and worms and rocks and dirt. Ahhh….one week of quiet bliss. I did not worry or fret. I knew they were fine. A week later I picked them all up. Everything was dirty in their camp satchels. They sang and laughed and told stories all the way home. I just smiled listening to them. Once home I emptied their bags…rocks, twigs, all the stamps still intact!

 When I went to camp as a kid, it was exactly the same thing only I had days of the week underwear plus one! The first time I went I was nervous. It was Girl Scout Camp, and I was a young girl scout. I was excited to earn more badges, sleep in a cabin, row a boat, take a hike in the woods, do crafts, and write home during quiet time since my mom sent stamps. I did all of those things including the letters home. My dad saved all of those. We sang, we hiked, we pranked each other, we made friends for life and we couldn’t wait to go back the next year. The songs I learned at camp have stayed with me all my life. Whenever I meet another girl schout we break out into song. I remember every word to every song.

 I went to church camp too. The songs were different, and we did have devotions instead of ghost stories, but everything else was the same. During church camp I was bitten twice by a wasp. My counselor had me take a break on my cot with a cold compress on the bites. I wasn’t really nervous about it until one of the girls (I should call her Nellie Olson) whispered to me, “If you get bit one more time you will die!” To which, I broke out into tears. My counselor came to my side and told me that would never happen. She moved Nellie to another cabin. Nonetheless, I stayed awake all night waiting to be bit one more time. The threat was real, and I was scared. 

 The folks in the path of the flooding Guadalupe River did not go to bed with thoughts of dying. It was a holiday weekend with lots of activities planned with friends and families. I am sure the girls whispered in their cabins before falling asleep. Other folks on down the river, slept in their RV’s or tents or their own houses…like they did every night. Until. Until the dark of night brought the roaring, racing river into their lives. Abruptly and swiftly, they were awakened to evacuate. Out of a deep, sweet sleep came the terror of waking to water on the floor rising so quickly, they could not get out of the way. The river took them. 

 As a parent, as a grandparent, as a human being, my heart has been torn to shreds watching the news coverage and trying to keep up with the rescues. The rescues are few, but the findings in trees, on riverbanks, in cars are devastating. 

We, here in the Midwest, went on our merry way last weekend. Parades, music, fireworks, families. It was later we were glued to the news. We are so fortunate. The sun shines. Our gardens grow. Our children carry on with their lives. But, we will always remember this July 4th. Always.