“It’s more than $120,” Mom
argued. “You have to get your lifesaving certification first, and you can be
sure there’ll be a charge for that. Then there’s the cost of driving you to
Lawton and back. You know gas does
have a price tag.”
I called the YMCA to get the
cost of taking the lifesaving course. $15.00. I then took our atlas and
calculated the mileage to Lawton.
“How many miles to the gallon
does our car get?” I asked Dad.
He peered over the top of his
newspaper and answered, “Fifteen. Why?” he asked.
I ignored him and asked
another question: “How much does gas cost per gallon?”
Now he dropped his paper down
low enough so I could see his whole face. I think he said something like 30
cents per gallon, I can’t remember. All I know for sure is that gas added about
$5.00 to the total cost of going to camp. Throw in some wear and tear on the
car and the cost of a few required camping items, and the bottom line was
$175.00. I presented my figures to Mom.
The fact of the matter was it
didn’t matter what the cost was. She didn’t want me to go. “Well, I’m not
paying for it,” she flatly stated.
“What if I pay for it?” I
asked.
Mom narrowed her eyes and said,
“Humph. If you can get that much
together, and that includes everything including paying for the gas up and
back, I’ll allow it.” The smirk on her face telegraphed her utmost confidence
in my failure. But, I was determined to do it, so set about earning what I
needed.
I already had enough saved
for the deposit of $25, so filled out the application at Evy’s dining room
table with her mother’s help. I handed over my $25, and her mom wrote a check
on my behalf. Evy and I sealed our applications, her mom gave us stamps, and
out to the mailbox, and on their way they went. One week later, we both
received word that places were being held for the two of us in the
three-week-long canoeing program scheduled to begin right after the Fourth of
July.
The remaining balance was due
the first of May, so I got cracking. I babysat for every brat in the
neighborhood including Jeff Barnaby. Jeff was one of those nightmare kids who
no one would baby-sit after the first time. If he were a kid today, they’d have
him on some sort of drug regimen.
With my first $15 of
babysitting money earned, Evy and I signed up for Lifesaving at the YMCA.
Ten week later, Lifesaving
certification and $95 in babysitting earnings in hand, Evy’s mother, again,
wrote a check so that I could finalize my camp plans. Evy and I then received
our equipment list. Much of what I needed I already had, having been in Girl
Scouts since second grade with leaders who liked to camp. I had a mess kit,
sleeping bag, ground covering, and jackknife, but I still needed things like
mosquito netting, duffle bag, and backpack.
Once I presented Mom with the
fait accompli, she was actually a
pretty good sport about the whole thing, and drove me to do the shopping for
what was left on my list. Maybe she figured I had passed the test for showing a
sincere desire to do something by working to earn all the money myself.
The day of departure arrived.
I was excited to be going to camp for the first time. I had never been anywhere
on my own before and I was ready to have this taste of independence.
All the cliché stuff you hear
about, like camp songs, camp nicknames, camp pranks, camp food, you name it,
Camp Shawadasee had it.
We went twice a day to the
lake. In the morning, we swam laps. In the afternoons, only those of us in the
canoe program went back to learn about canoeing. We’d take the boats and
paddles out of the boathouse and take turns stroking the bow and stern. Once
the counselors felt we had the techniques mastered, we started taking the
canoes out in the lake.
At the start of the third
week, we were ready to take our first canoe trip. It was a day-long journey
that demanded we portage our canoes several times. Rain for the area had been
sparse and although it wasn’t exactly drought conditions, the river we were on
was not running at its usual pace. We each were given a bag of food for the day
that included German semi-sweet dark chocolate bars for quick energy. Evy and I
were partners—she took the stern and I the bow for most of the journey. The day
was blazing hot and the deer flies were brutal. We both got pretty good at
swatting them just before the sting of their bite was felt. By the end of the
day we were sunburned and tired. Our muscles were worn out and we were happy
with the exhaustion of our efforts. Our counselor, Pretzel, announced, “You’ll
all be glad to hear that today was a test. Our three-day trip down the White
River will be a breeze compared to what you’ve endured today. Congratulations
to you all for not complaining and doing a job well done.” That night we all
turned in early after a shower and the evening meal.
“Deb,” our tent mate,
Melanie, stage-whispered as she shook me awake. It was still dark out as I
blinked to focus and rub the sleep from my eyes. “Time to get up,” she
continued. Melanie, like Evy, was a veteran of Camp Shawadasee.
“What time is it?” I asked as
I flung back the mosquito netting that surrounded my cot. Evy spoke in a
regular tone as she answered, “Five o’clock.” We were getting a very early
start this morning because we had a two-hour drive to our “put-in” spot up
stream on the White River. We’d all packed for the three-day canoe trip the
night before but there was breakfast to eat, canoes to load on trailers, and
gear to stow in the back of the vans we’d be riding in. By 7:00 we were on the
road being jostled in the bench seats of our van.
It was after 10:00 before we
were all launched and paddling our way down river. Pretzel had been right about
one thing: the White River was going to be a much easier trip than our
adventure earlier in the week. The river was flowing beautifully after two
nights and a day of rain. The sun was out and there was a light breeze coming
from the Northwest that cooled the air to a comfortable 72°. With virtually no
humidity, the day was Perfection
personified.
The first two days were just
about identical. We stopped at lunchtime to build a cook fire and take a
two-hour break that included swimming or napping depending on one’s persuasion
and attitude. We set up camp both nights along the bank and listened to frogs
singing and crickets chirping. The clear skies were an inspiration as Melanie
pointed out several constellations to Evy and me. We retired to our three-man
pup tents and fell asleep as achy muscles relaxed from the day’s workout. Evy
and Melanie made up a song for our trip that went to the tune of “Sailing
Sailing, Over the Ocean Blue.”
Canoeing Canoeing, On the
White River
When days are hot and
nights are cold, on the White River
Snakes and spiders,
alligators too!
Don’t you wish you never
had, anything else to do?
On the morning of the third
day, Pretzel announced that we could take our time getting started this
morning. There was a hiking trail near our site with wild flowers, and we were
encouraged to explore it. She explained that we would eat lunch here before
starting out today as we only had about four more hours to our destination.
“After lunch I have a surprise announcement,” Pretzel shouted to us as we all
headed toward the trailhead. Speculation began immediately about what she could
be referring to.
Melanie’s long strawberry
blond hair was pulled severely back away from her face and held to the back of
her head with a large clip. “I can’t wait to wash this mess,” she complained as
we hiked along the trail. Evy and I were in complete agreement about our own
hair. I had wrapped mine up in a red bandana and looked a bit like a cancer
patient as not one strand was showing. It felt greasy and dirty and I seriously
was considering breaking one of the cardinal rules: do not wash in the river.
The three of us were on
clean-up duty when Pretzel made her surprise announcement. “Our destination is
Owasapee Boy Scout Camp,” she said as if that was the most exciting news ever.
We looked at one another trying to figure out why that was such a great thing.
Evy then wondered aloud, “Do you suppose that means there will be boys our age
there?” Melanie’s eyes grew wide with the possibility but my stomach did a
little flip flop. I had never been very good with boys. I was a bit afraid of
them and they never seemed to be much interested in me. Melanie tossed her dish
towel over on a rock and skipped off to get more information.
That afternoon in the canoe I
thought about where we were going. Owasapee was attended mostly by Boy Scouts troops
who went together to work on badges. Pretzel’s boyfriend was a counselor for
one of the troops and the two of them had hatched the plan. His troop would
host her group for an evening, giving them a chance to see each other mid-way
through the summer and, if everything went according to their plan, spend a
night sharing a sleeping bag. Owasapee was almost perfectly located in that it
was only two canoeing hours short of the original destination. They had plenty
of space for us girls to pitch our pup tents and they had guest shower
facilities in prime condition for us to use.
Before meeting our hosts, we
hoisted the canoes out of the water and loaded everything on the trailer that
had been shuttled down to Owasapee’s boat ramp. Pretzel showed us where to set
up camp and pointed out the guest showers. By the time we were all ready, it
was nearly 7:00 in the evening and the sun was dipping behind the tall trees
bringing the glow of dusk to the area. We trudged up a hillside of green grass
to a picnic area reserved for special occasions.
The boys, who were all two or
three years older than we were, made a beautiful log cabin bonfire that blazed
tall and hot for several hours. We ate spaghetti and meatballs, toasted bread,
and iceberg lettuce salad, and watched the sparks from the fire shoot up toward
the open sky. I sat next to a shy boy named Tom and didn’t have much to say to
him. After dinner, couples began to pair off and head to the other side of the
hill to star gaze. I lost track of both Melanie and Evy. Tom and I were the
last ones left sitting at the picnic table as the embers of the fire continued
to pop and flare. One of the counselors put a few more logs on the fire to keep
it going. Even Pretzel was no where to be seen. “Would you like to take a
walk?” Tom asked. I resisted the temptation to answer ambivalently. Not wanting
to be rude by turning him down, I said, “Yes.”
We walked out on to the
hillside where I could just barely make out the prone bodies of several
couples. Tom and I sat down and he took my hand. I really didn’t want to hold
his hand but didn’t want to seem nasty so let my limp hand rest in his. We sat,
occasionally looking up at the stars, which he apparently knew nothing about.
Thanks to Melanie, I recognized a few constellations from the previous night
and pointed them out to him. “You’re a nice girl,” he said. Although I had no
experience, I certainly could tell that he was getting ready to kiss me and I
wanted no part of that. I jumped up from the ground and said, “Let’s walk.” We
walked all over the camp and past all the cabins. Tom told me that he’d been
here for five weeks already and would be here another three. I was amazed.
“Your parents let you go away for eight weeks?” He sniffed back a laugh. “Let
me?” he asked rhetorically. I didn’t pursue the subject because I could tell
that this fifteen-year-old boy felt that this was a sentence each summer for
him. We walked back up the hill just as several other couples were also
returning. Melanie was there looking radiant in the glow of the fire. Her hair
was freshly clean and framed her clear-complexion face. She and the boy she was
with whispered to one another and exchanged a few kisses as I watched from the
far end of the picnic table.
Pretzel announced that it was
time to say goodnight and several of the couples did so with long deep kisses
that made me embarrassed to watch. I looked around nervously hoping Tom wasn’t
going to try to kiss me again and realized that Evy wasn’t anywhere in sight.
Melanie and I headed down the hill toward the tents. A few minutes later I
spotted her on the trail that ran around the perimeter of the boys’ cabins.
“Evy!” I shouted. She turned toward us and waved.
That night, snuggled in our
three-man pup tent, we exchanged stories. After I recounted my boring time with
Tom, Evy and Melanie started giggling. “What?” I demanded of them. “Tell me
what happened to you two.”
Evy began. “Do you remember
seeing that guy Mark? You know, the one who looked older than anyone else?”
Melanie and I both remembered him. He was hard to miss. Dark-haired, tall, and
muscular, we all thought he was one of the counselors at first. It turned out
he was 16 and had been coming to Owasapee since he was ten. Next year he
planned to be a counselor-in-training so this was his last year as a camper.
Evy and he had made eye contact and had an immediate attraction to one another.
She had lied to him about her age after first ascertaining how old he was. She
could easily pass for 15 though she was two years younger than that. Mark
wasted no time on star gazing. He took her to his cabin where they spent the
next hour and a half making out. Melanie and I were both titillated and
scandalized. “What happened with you and your guy Melanie?” Evy asked.
“Greg was his name.” Melanie’s
voice was soft and restrained. We were nestled in the pup tent like sardines.
Evy was in the middle. I could hear Melanie but because the tent was dark and
we’d turned out our flashlights, I couldn’t see her. There was a full moon that
night but the trees around us were too thick to let any of its light through.
The noises of other campers settling in for the night that had been the
background music to Evy’s story had died down to reveal an underlayment of
nature sounds. The occasional crack of a foot stepping on a twig as someone
made their way to the privy or back to their tent was the only interruption.
“He was the best kisser,” Melanie sighed. I wondered what it would be like to
have been kissed enough times to know that someone was the best kisser. I hadn’t
even had my first real kiss yet.
“I used to think that Gary
Stein was the best kisser, but this Greg guy was definitely better,” Melanie
continued. “We walked out onto the hill to look at the stars. Between the two
of us we could name just about everything up there in the sky. Just as we
thought we’d named everything we could see, something else would become clear
enough to identify. It was great.” Even though I couldn’t see her, I could tell
she was smiling with the memory of such a romantic time. “Then he started
kissing me and I was enjoying it so much I didn’t realize at first that he was
trying to pull my shirt out my pants.” I turned over on my side to see if I
could see her face at all but could only make out the dimmest silhouette of her
profile against the light shining on her side of the tent. “Then what
happened?” I begged. At this Melanie started to giggle. She had the most
wonderful tinkle of a giggle. Almost like a little dinner bell ringing. “Well,”
she laughed. “You see, the shirt I was wearing was one of those body suits that
snaps in the crotch so you can wear it with hip huggers and your shirt won’t
pull out.” Evy said, “Oh my god! Did he rip your shirt? Those snaps aren’t very
strong.” Melanie giggled again. “Yea I know they’re not very strong. In fact,
this particular shirt had caused me all kinds of trouble. Two of the snaps had
ripped out just after I bought it and there was only one holding it together.
Sometimes at school, that one would let loose and I’d have to keep going to the
ladies room during every break to snap it together again. When I complained
about it to my mom, she solved the problem for me.” Evy and I waited
breathlessly to find out what she’d done. “Mom sewed the crotch of that shirt
shut.” As the full impact of what Melanie told us sunk in, Evy said, “You mean,
that shirt has a sort of chastity belt?” Melanie giggled again and said, “Yes.”
I imagined poor Greg pulling and pulling on that shirt and Melanie knowing all
the while that there was no way it was coming out of her pants. The image was
too funny and I erupted in gut-splitting laughter. Evy soon joined in and then
the three of us were laughing so hard we all had to get up and go to the
bathroom one more time before going to sleep.
On the ride back to Camp
Shawadasee the next morning, we added a verse to our song.
Canoeing Canoeing, On the
White River
You’ll stop at Camp
Owasapee, On the White River
Star gazing, Star gazing,
girls are clever, too!
Don’t you wish you never
had, anything else to do?
So Camp Shawadawsee was
everything it promised to be: “a summer you'll never forget,” “friendships
unsurpassed,” and “a chance to build skills for a lifetime of enjoyment.”
Copyright DJ Anderson, 2005
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