My first year at camp was spent in a land cabin which was nothing more than a concrete floored, screened in cabin, with a row of top bunks and lower ones, all around the cabin. No air, no electricity, and no bathrooms. You walked to the nearest bathroom. Hot?? Well, yes, but during Quiet Time, we turned on the yard twirly sprinkler we'd put on top of the cabin, and as it twirled water, any breeze was immediately cooler. The next year I was on a floating cabin which was loads more fun and a tad bit cooler, and the night time raids on other girl cabins, raiders in the buff, was a total hoot. Nothing like a little skinny dipping to cool you down. We squirted toothpaste off the sides of the cabin to feed the fish, and free swim meant you just dove off your cabin into that luxuriously cool lake water.
The food at camp was either fabulous or I was always just so damn hungry by mealtime, I just thought it was wonderful. I do remember we had Pie Day once a week, and the chocolate pie always went first. We had an all camp picnic with hamburgers and hot dogs, watermelon, and the whole shebang down at Swim Bay every year. Friday's meant fish, since the owners were Catholic, and the lady who ran the kitchen and her staff were brought out several times a term, for applause and thank you's. Manners were a big deal, too.
Special overnight's to a floating cabin down near the Dam were the best, being pulled in innner tubes tied by rope behind a flat, floating, wooden square, powered by an outboard motor underneath. This thing was called the Riff Raff, and though it was not known for speed, being pulled along behind it was sheer bliss. When counselors threw marshmallows at you while being pulled through the lake, back to camp, catching and eating them was hilarious. If you missed one, it floated. Or, the fish got it.
The owners dogs were allowed to roam throughout camp, and were loved on by many a homesick kiddo. They swam in the lake, launched themselves off docks, and were just generally goodwill ambassadors. There was even a fawn, Star, who grew up at camp after her mother was killed. She also roamed all through camp, visiting, and munching on grass. Star would allow campers to gently love on her, as long as they didn't startle her. I vividly remember seeing Star swim in the lake, right around dusk one evening, and being compelled to sit down and just watch. That's just not something kids see everyday and it was breathtaking.
Friends. I made jillions, and when I ended up at the University of Texas, almost everyone I met knew someone I knew from camp. It wasn't six degrees of separation--it was more like one or two. In a school that huge, it was a short cut to get to know other people in a hurry. I still run in to a camp friend every now and then, and when I do, it's like time has stood still. We pick up right where we left off as kids, and speak a shorthand few others understand. They are sort of instant family.
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