By AUDREY M. MARKS
I haven’t been able to focus lately.
I don’t know if it is the mind-melting heat or the distant calls of summers past. But lately all I can think about is summer camp.
When I was little, my parents would send me to the local YMCA Day Camp for about a week each summer. I’m not sure how they do it in Texas but in Grove City, Penn. there is a small log cabin between the organization’s outdoor pool and the baseball fields that sits on a hill and acts as the control center for the week’s activities. Your parents drop you off and you trudge up the hill to the cabin to find out what schedule of activities you’re involved in and then go off with your group for the day.
There were horses, which I hated. There were bike rides through the woods, which was what we used to do everyday in my neighborhood so I never understood the point. There were hokey plays and I vaguely remember a large ice cream sundae made in a trough, which utterly freaked me out.
The one memory I have from summer camp that will forever stick out in my mind involves two of my older cousins setting off bottle rockets in the park and a fellow camper recognizing them. Imagine my surprise when the local police show up and question me about the mishap, basically asking me to rat out my cousins seeing how fireworks are illegal in Pennsylvania and all. I was 10.
But for all the complaining about summer camp, I did enjoy two activities everday. The swim lesson and the end of the day swim before you packed it up and went home were my best memories of day camp.
But by the time I was in third grade I realized I was not a camping kind of gal. I like the outdoors in small doses, but even as a child I didn’t necessarily love being filthy for long stretches of time. I did not fight my parents when they told me to shower.
Now enter my love for swimming. Around 5th grade, after a brief stint living in California we moved back to Pennsylvania and found a competitive swim team in the area that I joined. I wasn’t the fastest person on the swim team, but I wasn’t the worst. I got serious about training and was good enough.
So after my first year of swimming competitively, I convinced my parents to plunk down a wad of cash to send me to swim camp. While visions of Nike camps at elite swimming universities danced in my head, I was pulled down to earth when I discovered I would be going to local Division III college Coach Jim Longnecker’s swim camp.
Now came the tough call, was I going to go to the outdoors, woodsy summer camp (where you lived in cabins and trained in an outdoor pool at all hours of the day) or be a total wimp and attend the session at Grove City College, which as luck would have it would be in my hometown?
I’m not going to mince words, I do not wake up early to jump into an ice cold pool outdoors and shower off in cabins. I’m not the type that encourages her family to go camping.
Indoor camp, where we stayed at college dorms was much more my style.
So I suppose it comes down to this: I’ve never been camping. I’ve never slept on the ground in a tent for more than one night. Nor have I spent the night in a tent somewhere other than a friend’s backyard.
I’m a huge fan of running water and electricity and I am keen on sleeping in a bed.
However, once (or twice) a year I do make an exception and head back to my hometown and visit my friends for one of my favorite annual events: the cabin party. We go out, enjoy the cabin in all its majestic wonder and generally sleep in the back of a friend’s vehicle. I do admit I’ve hit a cot or two and slept on the pull out bed in the cabin once as well, quite the experience.
But this summer marks a departure for the crew. A weekend long bash has been scheduled and, with a loving nod to our collective youths, been dubbed summer camp.
While I didn’t pick up my Pennsylvania fishing license I do plan on throwing horse shoes, playing bocce ball, making macaroni necklaces and working on some sweet tie dye t-shirts. I’m going to sleep in a tent and probably cook things over a fire. (I’m also going to knock back some adult beverages)
Not to over romanticize this weekend getaway, I will be living without running water and that means navigating the David Bowie bog (think Labyrinth) and using the outhouse. It is my least favorite thing about the cabin, though since our boy Ron got engaged he has been better about remembering the ladies and packing toilet paper. Thanks buddy.
But the best part is reconnecting with my friends. This trip is extra special because I’m going to a bridal shower tea to celebrate my friends Ron and Pam’s pending nuptials. Just another milestone that makes me turn back and remember when we all took pre-school, gymnastics classes and yes attended the YMCA Day Camp together.
So until then I need to focus, not worry about the searing heat. Yes for the next week I need to be content and dream of Wolf Creek, stellar music and old friends around the fire.