Having said that, that summer it rained every day because there was a hurricane remnant sitting over the state for weeks on end. Being a camp, most of our activities were outdoors, so this seriously crimped our style. Enter the creative genius of us counselors! What’s a fun activity you can do outside in the rain and not worry about getting wet? Slip n slide! Only, we didn’t have our own, so we made it out of a big blue tarp. Off we went to the field, where we and several other counselors proceeded to make a “mud pit” at the bottom of a small hill, placed the tarp so that you would have about 15 feet of sliding area, and grabbed all the dish soap we could find from the kitchens. Needless to say, the kids had a ball, and we spent the better portion of that afternoon getting completely muddy and soapy. 40 kids covered in frothy mud with their counselors right beside them and covered in equal amounts of mud is a sight to see. To wrap things up, we all walked down to the pool where we happily jumped in to clean off the mud, and ended up turning the lovely blue pool green. The caretaker was none too happy about the condition of the pool, and it took about a week for it to stop looking like the lake, but I will never, ever forget that experience! To all my co-counselors that summer, if you’re reading this….”MUD!!”

I was at camp when Elvis died. This wasn’t your usual camp by any means. This was a camp for children with special needs and I was a counselor to 3 girls with Downe’s Syndrome in upstate New York.

I remember that day well. We had no phones, papers or TVs in our secluded camp in the woods. Right before dinner, one of the rather larger male campers decided to play leap frog over my head in the parking lot and without my consent! The last thing I remember was hearing was my face as it smashed against the gravel. The camp nurse (who actually lived near by)began to clean me up but was crying uncontrollably. I was thinking, “Am I going to die? Is my face going to be scarred for life?” Then the nurse finally calmed down enough to tell me that Elvis was dead.
Up until that moment, my first week at camp was the best week of my life. My favorite memory was watching the campers who were wheelchair bound go swimming! Each camper wore a life vest and then they were wheeled directly into the lake and where they became weightless and free. That is an image and a moment I will never forget.
So every year when the media announces how many years it has been since Elvis died – I remember playing leap with a giant and swimming with the dolphins at camp… and that Elvis had left the building for the last time.

However, the most memorable camp experience was my very first week of camp as an 11 year old Boy Scout. This occurred at the “Old Camp Bert Adams”. For those that are thinking about Bert Adams Boy Scout Reservation in Covington, that is not the place. The “Old Camp Bert Adams” was located where Cumberland Mall is now located. The office park adjacent and to the West of the mall was the center of camp activities. The lake that is in the middle of the apartments there was where I qualified for the Canoeing Merit Badge that first summer. Of course, in 1959, that area was a wild, wooded area apart from the city of Atlanta. No malls, no interstate highways, no 4-lane highways, and not much in the way of businesses existed.

The trip to camp started Sunday afternoon with a bus ride with my other BSA Troop 164 members all the way from Decatur to Vinings, as going through Vinings was the only access to the camp. Vinnings was an old rundown train station, and a couple of old houses on a very narow, twisted road. The bus trip seemed like an eternity. It was hot. It was crowded. It was loud. Not a very good start for the week I thought.

Once the bus unloaded at camp we were shown to our campsite which was made up of a number of adirondacks (three sided wooden structures with a wooden floor and a large overhanging roof). These adirondacks had three bunk beds so they accommodated six campers each. I quickly learned my first lesson of summer camp, “Every Man for Himself”, as all the experienced campers dashed into adirondacks and claimed their bunk. I was left behind with some other Tenderfoot Scouts to try to find the open spaces. As luck would have it, I found a bottom bunk open. I would later learn why no one else wanted that bottom bunk. The top bunk was occupied by a Second Class Scout called “Pinky” by the rest of the troop.

It seems Pinky had an aversion to things natural. Anything that moved was of interest to Pinky. While we spread out our sleeping bags and organized our packs and boxes in the adirondack, Pinky searched about the campsite under rocks and logs and found about six scorpions, three spiders, a lizard and a small garter snake. He brought them all back to the adirondak and placed them in a cardboard box located on his bunk.

That afternoon we had our physical exams and completed our swimming tests. Two laps of the pool, two minutes free floating, and we were judged as “swimmers”. Anything less were “beginners”. We were given our “buddy tags” which were hung on a hook with our buddy each time we went into the water. Finally, exhausted after all that had occurred that afternoon, we were lead to the dining hall where we would have all our meals for the upcoming week. Actually the food was pretty good. The most interesting part was the “bug juice” which was the cool aid that was mixed up in large quantities and seemed to end up covering most of the tables and campers before each meal was completed. In the dining hall we sang songs and performed chants that extolled the greatness of our troop to the others.

After dinner the first campfire of the week was awsome. An indian fired a flaming arrow into the stack of wood that immediately burst into flame and lighted up the entire area for the rest of the evening. Songs and skits followed with the campfire ending with a story. We then made our way back to camp through the dark woods. The first night did not offer much sleep as I wondered what would be in store on Monday.

Now Old Bert Adams was very hilly terrain. There were almost no flat spots on the property. There was one area that had been leveled to create a small ball field. There was also an adjacent Quonset hut used for activities during rainy weather. The parade ground in front of the old dining hall was also flat but very small. The flagpole was located in the center of the parade ground and all the troops assembled around the flag pole several times a day. In the mornings each troop was accounted for and the flag was raised as the bugler sounded the appropriate bugle call. Then the campers filed in to their assigned tables for breakfast. After each meal one camper from each table had KP duty and had to clean the table and sweep the floor.

In the evenings the troops gathered at the flag pole and stood at attention as the bugler sounded “To The Colors” as the flag was lowered. After dinner there was usually some free time to work on merit badge requirements, write letters or just rest.

During daytime, however, the hours were packed with activities with merit badge classes in Swimming, Lifesaving, Canoeing, Rowing, Hiking, Camping, Nature, Forestry, Cooking, Marksmanship and many others. Being a young scout I had not earned any merit badges yet. I was able to work on Swimming and Canoeing, and to go to the rifle range to try to qualify as Marksman and Pro-Marksman.

Pinky, on the other hand, took the Nature Merit Badge and spent the remainder of his time looking for snakes. The area proved to be abundantly blessed with snakes. As of Friday he had gathered at least 20 snakes which he kept in the cardboard box on his bunk.

Friday afternoon my shooting at the rifle range qualified me as Pro-Marksman. With my certificate in hand I excitedly ran up and down the hills through the woods toward our campsite to tell everyone what I had done. Suddenly I found myself hurtling through the air after tripping over something, and a large rock found my knee as I landed, creating a two inch gash. After making it back to the campsite my scoutmaster took me to the first aid center where I learned I was not the only patient. Another camper had recently swallowed a yellow jacket with a swig from a Coke bottle and it had stung him in the throat. The three of us loaded into the first aid director’s car and headed for Kennestone hospital in Marietta.

Now Kennestone was quite a bit smaller than it is now, and it seemed much farther away. Also along the way to Kennestone it seems like we only saw just a few other automobiles. It was nothing like the highways full of cars and endless shops and stores along that route today. At Kennestone I received my obligatory stitches after a long wait while they treated my suffering fellow camper. It was so late we had missed supper at the dining hall, so we stopped for a hamburger, then continued back to camp.

When I arrived at my campsite I found the troop had already left for the hike up Mount Atkinson and the weekly Friday campfire. I was very disappointed to miss this last campfire. There would be many more in my future. When my fellow campers returned to the campsite it was time for bed. We were all worn out from a very active week. Tomorrow we would be heading home.

That’s when I saw it. Pinky’s box of snakes on the top bunk was open. The flaps were obviously raised. Pinky checked the box and all the snakes were gone. He bagan a frantic search for his captives, but they were not found. OK, it was time to go to bed. My next thought was “I wonder if any of them found their way into my sleeping bag on the bottom bunk”. I certainly was not going to let the others know I might have even the first thought of being scared. It took every manley thought I could muster to slowly stick that first foot all the way to the bottom of the sleeping bag and feel around to make sure none of Pinky’s friends were there.

Even though the bag was clear, I could only lay awake and think about it all night. The next morning I was exhausted. We loaded up the bus and made it back home that afternoon, but the box of snakes was something I would never forget.

The swim test consisted of swimming the length of the pool and treading water for 2 minutes. When it came time for my test, I dog paddled about half the pool and then just walked the rest of the length of the pool. I would then attempt to tread water for about a minute before I had to cling to the side or be pulled out by a lifeguard before I drowned. I always ended up in the beginner swimming group, which consisted of wearing a bright red bathing cap and staying only in the shallow end of the pool for the duration of the summer. I hated it because there were several years that I was the only girl who got a red cap. All of the other girls wore green bathing caps and would play only in the deep end of the pool. I had to stand all alone in the shallow end of the pool.

I became a camp counselor at the same camp while I was in college. One of the first things we did was take a swim test. It consisted of one length of the pool and 2 minutes of treading water. I had taken some swimming lessons while at college and hoped I was prepared for the test. I swam one length of the pool doing free style and then made it the full 2 minutes of treading water. Yes! I finally got my “green cap”!

When we first arrived to the camp I thought we were in another country somewhere. I had no idea where we were, and still don’t. But anyway we had to go in the middle of the campground and sing church songs everyday after exercising at the crack of dawn. First weird event, if you mess up on the song you had to kiss a pole. Yes, kiss a pole!!!! Then we went to our rooms which were cabins. In the morning you had get up make up your bed and stand beside it until the counselors/inspectors came. Every day the cabin who had the neatest beds would win a prize. Well, my cabin never won and you will see more about this at the end of the story. We would ride horses and exercise in the morning. We would go to bible study class and have outside competitions which were pretty fun. After the 2nd day I was out of money and had to resort to extreme measures. One of my fellow campers and I were sitting around starving for snacks and just could not wait until dinner so we thought why don’t we borrow some of the other campers snacks, we are sure they will not miss it. So we messed up all the beds to pretend someone broke into the cabins (which were in the middle of no-where land). And we ate some chips, cookies and drinks that did not belong to us. Well, our roommates came back mad because 1) they worked hard to make up the beds so we could win but we never did and they were ruined now and 2) because someone ate their snacks. So they asked us what happened and we said we don’t know it was like this when we got here and everyone was staring at me and I wondered why. One of the girls who was missing her chips said “wipe the crumbs from my chips off of your face.” We were busted and I will never forget that camping experience and I have never taken anything that did not belong to me again.

I had never been away from home by myself, but hey, I wasn’t going to be lonely because there were other little hyper ten-year-olds, who, just like me, got suckered into signing onto this “I’m a Girl Scout, Get Me Out of Here!” reality gig. And that crying I heard at night wasn’t gonna remind me that I was homesick either.

Things got ugly pretty fast. The Camp Counselors, made it clear that there assignments were to torture and frighten us. They made us walk nature paths to pick up ticks and be bitten by millions of mosquitos. We went “snipe”-hunting, clicking sticks together along the way, hoping to find the elusive creatures, all the while listening to warnings of “watch for snakes.” Their campaign was working. I still watch for snakes. Shudder.

The torture was amped up. We were forced to do awful cleaning duties. The showers. We scrubbed the finish off of those fungal chambers with PineSol. I still hate that smell. If it was your day to clean the “Latrines”, you wondered if you could get out of that horrible job by pretending to be sick. I still hate that smell, too.

Those counselors really socked it to us when it came to our mealtimes. The “three Girl Scout bites or 5 Brownie bites” rule was to me the ultimate plan of evilness. The goal was to make sure we got our fiber, so prunes were served at breakfast. Can you imagine the sound of a room full of girls sitting at banquet tables, gagging their hearts out? Shudder.

Somewhere between all the scratching, hacking and scrubbing there were some moments where I treasure what I learned besides the important ones of survival essential to being a Girl Scout. I learned that I was capable of singing (I was picked to sing solo at Talent Night, although off key), to roast marshmallows and to discover that Pepsodent toothpaste tasted pretty good as a little snack.

Still, there’s no place like home.

I do. My son was fortunate enough to participate in Sandlot Sports Camp this July, which is directed by my friend, Kim Johnson and facilitated by her team of tireless volunteers. I was fortunate to be able to participate too, with all things food, from planning, to clean up and every conceivable craziness in between.

Nothing in my foodservice career had prepared me for the emotional roller coaster a pack of eighty kids can drive.

Having an eight year old of my own, I’ve certainly heard my share of, “I don’t eat that.”, but I was at times overwhelmed by the snubs worthy of a cruel adult, only to be followed with a feeling of elation brought on by equally approving grunts, mmmm’s, and the occaisonal compliment. I didn’t know which way to turn. I was being tested, I knew it!

Seriously, how do you keep that many hungry tummys happy at mealtime? I believe in my heart the answer is, tacos.

The real answer, of course, is that you can’t please them all, and it’s not necessary to try. Most of these kids just want to know that someone cares about them, whether it’s taking the time to make a good meal for them or just paying them some sincere attention.

I can’t say I’ve ever worked that hard for that long – five days. Five long days, not including the days of prep before and clean up after. Could it be possible that Mario Batalli and Anthony Bourdain never have moments of weakness and self-pity?

After being a small part of this great Sandlot Sports Camp adventure and watching the other volunteers pour their hearts and souls into helping these kids blossom, I could only rub some dirt on my imagined wounds and have a new appreciation for those who give freely of themselves to show others a better way.

As I soak my feet and reflect, I realize we should all have more ’summer camp’ in our lives.

Those skits were the worst! At least so I thought before I actually took part in one. I was horrified at the prospect. My parents never warned me about this! This shy Mama’s boy was quite surprised to find out how much fun it actually was to get up on stage and show what summer camp was all about. I made some really good friends while we rehearsed for those skits.

Over coming fears, getting in trouble, getting away with things that kids get away with at camp, crushes on girls, all helped form the over all experience and fuse those memories into my psyche so that I would never forget. One of the most memorable was seeing my pastor, quiet and reserved, turn into a young child right before my eyes as he smeared whipped cream in my face during a giant food fight! From that point on, his sermons always seemed a little more real to me.

Every day was an adventure waiting to happen. I felt like some hobbit on an errand with Gandalf as we went on hikes through the woods, took canoes into the lake, swam and played day and night. The nightly campfire stories still resonate deep inside. I can’t wait to turn into a kid again when I can tell them to my kids when they’re older. Each and every child should get a chance to have summer camp memories to carry with them the rest of their lives.