this one time at camp - oh wait

canon digital rebel xsi

Recently Adrienne's House posted about how people can get their panties in a knot over what to call spring break. I say it doesn't matter what you call it, you just need to know when it is.

When I was in 5th grade, my Mom signed us up for YMCA camp over spring break. Of course we were in Catholic school, so our break was truly an Easter break. We went home early Holy Thursday, were off on Good Friday, and then back in school the week after Easter.

That Friday night my sister and I rolled up our sleeping bags, and packed up our clothes. We went to bed early as we had to be up first thing to be on the bus that would take us to the mountains for a week.

We arrived shortly after 8, to find the parking lot at the YMCA empty. Where was the bus? Where were the other campers? Were we early? Late?

Several minutes passed, and still there wasn't any sign of anyone. In these situations my sister and I knew better than to say anything, so just sat silently in the back seat, clutching our knapsacks. Around a quarter to nine, one of the staff showed up to open the office. She recognized my Mom, and wondered where we were last week.

That's right, we missed camp because my Mom didn't bother to check the dates. She figured spring break was spring break. And yes, no one from the YMCA called to find out why we didn't show up, despite a single mother paying in full for her two daughters to attend camp.

Honestly, I really wasn't looking forward to going to camp, so wasn't very disappointed. I do think though that that was the Easter we had cold pizza for dinner. I don't remember what she did with us that week. No memory at all.


on the night stand ::Little Bee by Chris Cleave

campfire stories

I have very mixed feelings about summer camp. I went to several sleep away camps, but only returned to one. I wrote letters home that on at least one occasion caused my mother to show up at the organization's office and demand to speak with us. Oh, how I wish I had those letters.

My first camp experience was Uni-Camp. This camp is run by UCLA, and is for kids who cannot afford to go to camp. My Mom heard about it through a friend at work, and signed up post haste. Two weeks of freedom for a single working Mom - I knew she was excited about such a prospect. But my Mom was also going to miss us (or at least me - sorry couldn't resist).

My Mom had never been given the opportunity to go to camp, coming from a very poor family of seven children. She had no idea what to expect. There was a packing list of what to your campers should bring (and what they should not). We had to borrow sleeping bags and find fresh batteries for the flashlights. We had adequate clothing, but we needed to make a trip to the grocery store for shampoo. It was in the candy aisle that I realized how much our Mom was going to miss us.

I have no idea what possessed her, but she told us to pick out whatever candy we wanted. We never got candy. Well, we bought our own candy with pocket money when we had it, but it was not something that made it on the grocery shopping list.

Needless to say we went a bit overboard. It looked like we were getting a head start on shopping for Trick-or-Treaters - not two girls on their way to summer camp for the first time.

When we got home my Mom divided up the candy and put it in a giant zip top bag. We each packed a full one gallon bag of candy into our duffel bags. She told us we should use the candy to make friends.

When we arrived at camp, the first thing they did was go over the rules. We were told that we could not have any food of any sort in our cabins. In addition to insects, there were other animals, including a camp bear^* (and fellow campers), who might be attracted to said food. Being a rule follower, I turned over my giant bag of candy to my counselor. His eyes got pretty wide when he saw what my mother had allowed me to bring to camp. I suspect he didn't believe the story about it being my Mom's idea.

The candy was kept in a room off the dining hall. It was locked away for safe keeping. My counselor, who went by the moniker, Snow Bird, said any time I wanted it, he would be happy to get it for me - like a fat girl would ever ask for candy. Snow Bird was a student at UCLA, and the only male counselor in the girl's camp. Clearly he had a lot to learn about women.

As camp got into full swing, I forgot all about the candy locked away at the mess hall. I had other things on my mind - like trying to fit in with a bunch of extroverts who hadn't lived such a sheltered life, and who were rule breakers. I was miserable and probably wouldn't have preferred sleeping with the camp bear.

The two weeks dragged on, but finally it was time to go home. On the day we were packing up, Snow Bird brought me my giant stash of candy, still untouched. This was the first time the other girls in my cabin had seen it, and now I was really embarrassed. They didn't believe it was my Mom's idea either.

There was no way I could bring all the candy back home. I knew it would break my mother's heart. So I let the girls have it. I think I got about two pieces.

When I checked in with my sister about her candy, she said had eaten most of it. She had no qualms asking for her candy. She would have eaten all of it, but her counselor started to limit her (despite that she was rail thin). And as far as I remember she didn't share any of it. She had actually had a great time at camp, while I was severely home sick.

They took a photo of all the campers and we were given an 8x10 at the end of camp. I remember a guy walking up to my Mom at the parking lot where we were dropped off. He looked at the photo and remarked that she had the happiest girl camper (referring to me), and the saddest boy camper (referring to my sister). He couldn't have been more wrong. It made me laugh though. I was glad for camp to be over, even if I had surprised myself by being awarded the most improved camper trophy.

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^*There really was a camp bear. He was a very large black grizzly. He showed up on the night of the camp dance. He was out back trying to get into the garbage bin. We were all forced inside until they were sure he was scared off.

I wrote this post to answer the Vox Question of the Day, which I submitted. Thus, it is cross-posted.

on the night stand :: A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever