Monday, August 11, 2008

happy camper

kitchen tools


Since Uni-Camp had worked out so well, the next summer we found ourselves at Girl Scout Camp. This was probably my worst camping experience.

To be fair, I really wanted to go to the horseback riding group, but was too young by about 3 months. It sucked. I still joke when B asks me what I want for my birthday - I say a pony. At this group each girl got her own horse for the duration of camp. You learned how to care and ride a horse, and you didn't even have to clean up after it! I couldn't think of a better way to spend two weeks, but as much as I begged, I could not talk my mother into lying about my age.

And so I was sent to the basic group with my sister, who was just a year younger than me. That meant my sister and I were in the same squad. Basic camp sucked. The Girl Scout motto is "be prepared", but clearly the people who ran this place didn't get the memo. We were at the first session and nothing was ready. We spent most of our craft time, sorting out the stuff in the craft room. Crafting was sold as a big part of the session, but I think we came home with a couple of key chains and a leather bookmark.

The main thing we did was clean. If I had wanted to clean, I could have just stayed home. Every morning we were assigned a chore. This was after we had breakfast and a spin of the wheel determined if you cleared, washed, rinsed, dried, put away, swept the floors or got a pass. I think I got a pass once, which statistically doesn't seem possible (the wheel was spun at every meal). In the afternoons, we also cleaned. The most ridiculous thing we did was rake the camp. Our counselors insisted that the rake lines show. It made me so angry. I wrote letters home every day telling my Mom how awful this place was. I also told her the camp counselors were prejudice and hated me.

Then one morning, on my way back from the no-flush toilets, my counselor came up to me and made me promise not to get mad. She went on to tell me that my "bunk mate" had broken my glasses while she was cleaning up her area. The lenses were glass, and one of them had shattered. I didn't own a spare, and so would just have to go blind the rest of camp. Additionally this girl nor her parents nor the camp would be help responsible for the damage caused. I wanted to tell this stupid bitch "do you think my Mom 'won't get mad' when I come home with broken glasses and she has to pay to fix them?!"

But this was going to be the least of my problems. One morning my sister passed out at the morning flag ceremony. Instead of taking her to the nurse, they made her stand again, and finish the flag ceremony. She passed out again.

They figured she was just hungry and so took her into the dining hall. They once again insisted she stand during the moment of silence, and she passed out a third time, hitting her head on the window, breaking a glass pane. Actually I think she had a seizure at this point. Finally they decided she should go to the nurse. I started crying and got out of eating my oatmeal.

Since my sister seemed fine, they didn't bother to call my Mom or even take her off site to a doctor. They figured she was just hungry and maybe stressed. Of course I wrote home about it. And this time my Mom took action.

She showed up at the Girl Scout Counsel office when they opened the next morning, and showed them my letter. She demanded to know what was going on. She really wanted to talk to us, but they insisted that she not do so. They told her it would be bad for our morale. They insisted my sister was fine, and said that I was probably just exaggerating about making my sister stand repeatedly when clearly she was not feeling well. I don't know if they threatened to call the police, but amazingly my mother left without talking to us.

What no one realized is that my sister was epileptic. What is really odd is that the first time she had passed out was at a Holy Roller church, where we ended up at the local emergency room. They didn't catch it then. And when we went back (now about 3 years later) for our pre-camp checkup, the nurse remembered us. Still though, they missed it.

Towards the end of camp they had us spend the night up near where the horse camp was. We slept in their rec room. These girls didn't do chores all day. They didn't have to build a fire to take a hot shower. They showered every day, and not every three days like we did. They had a washer and dryer for their clothes - not a washboard and metal tub. They even had toilets that flushed. I was so ready to go home. This was torture - seeing what I couldn't have.

On the last day of camp, while we waited for the buses, we had a final singalong in the mess hall. It turned into one giant cry fest. I found one other girl who couldn't wait to go home. We promised each other we wouldn't cry, but we fell victim to all the estrogen in the room.

I was glad it was over when we arrived back at the pick up point. And once my Mom got over her glad you are back, boy was she angry about my broken eye glasses.

on the night stand :: Ella Sets Sail

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