it is fun to stay at the ymca

Honestly I can't remember if we went to YMCA summer camp before or after Girl Scout camp. It doesn't really matter. My sister and I had both attended summer day camp at the YMCA when we first moved to Southern California. We all wore matching t-shirts and once a week got to go on a field trip (we also got a new t-shirt each week). Once it was Knott's Berry Farm, but mostly it was an opportunity to hop on the bus.

I don't remember much about YMCA camp, except it is where I had what I think might have been an asthma attack. At the YMCA camp, the girls and boys had separate living quarters, but we participated in activities together. At Uni-Camp the only time the boys and girls came together was at a dance, and on the buses.

We had running water and bunk beds at the YMCA camp. I can't remember how/if laundry got done. I don't think we were restricted in taking showers. If anything, it was probably encouraged.

I learned how to kayak and row a canoe. Rowing a canoe was much more difficult than it would appear. There was a man-made lake on the property, so the conditions were ideal for learning. You couldn't get yourself in too much trouble. I also got to ride a horse!

Many of the kids were return campers. Others came with people they knew. The only person I knew was my sister. That and the fact that I was painfully shy made me a bit of an outsider. Still, I tried to make the most of it.

One day towards the end of camp, we went on a big hike. I was not much of a hiker. At one point I felt like I couldn't breathe, but I also feared looking like a wuss, so I kept on.

When it was clear it wasn't getting better, I finally stopped. The only two kids who stopped and checked on me were the guys everyone made fun of. They called them names like 'retard' and made fun of them because of how they looked and dressed. Truth is, these were probably some of the smartest kids at camp. They were nerds before that term was mainstream.

They stayed with me until I caught my breath. They got me to calm down so I could focus on my breathing. They assured me I would be okay. And after a few minutes, I was.

We continued on, and they slowed down and stayed with me the rest of the way. I already knew to never judge a book by its cover, but this sent that message home loud and clear.

There were a lot of camp fires and singing and group participation. Each squad of campers had to come up with a skit for the camp fire. Our counselor wasn't very into it, so we never won any of the awards, which were more bragging rights than anything.

One thing I did like about this camp were the camp fires. I think people who make fun of Kumbaya, never sung it around a camp fire. To calm things down we would first sing this song in a round:

Rose, Rose, Rose

Rose, Rose, Rose, Rose,
Will I ever see thee wed?
I will marry at thy will, sire,
At thy will.

Hey, Ho, nobody home.
Meat nor drink nor money do I have.
Still, I will be very, very merry.
Hey, Ho, nobody home.

Ah, poor bird,
Take thy flight
High above the shadows of this dark night.

By the time we had finished there was a quiet peacefulness about the camp. You could feel the energy change. The fire was fading, and the stars seemed brighter. In almost silence we made our way back to our cabins and fell into a gentle slumber, which would be interrupted far too early in the morning for my liking.


on the night stand :: I Was Told There'd Be Cake

happy camper

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

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.

----------------------------------------------------
^*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