CONTEST: The winner of Summer Camp stories – Arts & Crafts accident

BY SARAH DASHER WATTON OF SANDY SPRINGS

I went to Camp Illahee for girls in beautiful Brevard for several wonderful summers. Every spring, I would spend hours poring over the camp brochure, carefully selecting which courses I would be enjoying during my three weeks in North Carolina.

Seventh grade year, I was bored by the prospect of another summer tie-dying tees and sculpting clay doo-dads in Arts & Crafts. I wanted to try something exciting, something different (and not as scary as say, rock climbing or whitewater rafting). One of the more peculiar options was a class called “Printmaking,” in which girls would learn to “handcraft stationery and other printed items” using an old-fashioned Platen printing press.

In June, I found myself amid a small circle of campers surrounding a medieval-looking iron contraption in the dark basement of a camp lodge. As the counselor explained how the press worked, I began to seriously doubt my decision. However, I soon learned to enjoy the methodical process of setting letters and shapes into the type mold and locking them into the press to be flattened against sheets of paper. I also liked the teamwork required to operate the press: one girl in charge of loading the type mold into the press, while another turned the wheel that drove the plates together.

These two steps were intended to be independent of one another, but I had the unfortunate occasion to learn what happens when they’re done in tandem. One afternoon, a younger camper was partnered with me. She was somehow distracted, and began to turn the wheel before I had fully extracted myself from loading in a mold. In slow motion, I watched the edges of the plates biting down toward my suddenly vulnerable looking hands. Narrowly missing escape, I felt the most excruciating pain as the iron clamped down on my right index finger.

The agony was so intense that I passed out. I awoke in the arms of the counselor, selflessly carrying me up the hill to the infirmary. The camp nurse cheerfully splinted my throbbing finger and sent me on my way with a warning to keep it elevated as much as possible. This required a lot of walking around appearing as if I were aimlessly pointing into the distance.

By supper that night, my freak accident and bizarre new pointer stance had become the center of camp attention. To add further insult, my bunkmates rolled on the cabin floor in laughter as my counselor tied my splint with string to the bed coils above my lower bunk so that I could keep my injured digit aloft. It wasn’t until August, while boating on my hometown lake, that the mangled nail fell off — conveniently, in front of my entire youth group. I’ve stuck to humdrum Arts & Crafts ever since.

• What is the grand prize!
• Check out the winning Vegas Nights story
• Check out the winning romantic story
• Check out the winning family vacation story
• Check out the winning vacation horror story

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