I'm finding it increasingly difficult to remember my life BC (Before Camp). About a year ago I was carefully re-checking my Mapquest directions on I-75, wondering if I'd even find the place and nervous to tears about my impending interview with the mysterious Mr. Langdon. Avoiding potholes, I'd peered quizzically at the day camp/res camp fork. Where had I been? Camp was once this new and awkward collection of attractions for which I had no map. It's since inundated every previously available pore I had. I am the same person I was before I'd been to Fenton, but with this colossal chunk of passion tacked on. Today I regularly barrel up and down camp road like it's my own driveway. I skid joyously onto the gravel and attack the potholes with abandon.
"Chunk of passion" is a rough and bulky phrase. I'm pretty sure Kania would have circled it with her red ballpoint pen. But camp is a rough and bulky arrangement. It is this sharp, hidden, sprawling, chaotic, solid thing. It hit me literally like a chunk of debris.
Sometimes I find myself thinking I'm there. I'll be walking on campus when a moment of panic will strike: where are my campers? Have I lost them? Two whistles on the lacrosse field almost spur me to shout "Buddy check!" and count plastic chips. When my roommates respond to the Birdy Song with the gusto of a corpse, I ache. There is a noticeable void. I wouldn't trade this summer for anything, but the real world hurts me because of it.
Remembering what I thought about or talked about BC is quite strenuous. What was life without Adventurers, CDOS or compartmentalized red plastic trays? I'd really rather not think about it.
Caught in the summer horrid
Endless and fluttered torrid
But all of my ditches
Were buzzing green as I grew taller
- Frontier Ruckus
I am become Death
13 years ago
6 comments:
wow. i love this.
"But camp is a rough and bulky arrangement. It is this sharp, hidden, sprawling, chaotic, solid thing."
nobody will ever be able to describe camp, but you just got really damn close. i could feel it.
I think I know what you mean.
When I went home for a month over xmas, i really didnt enjoy it. I mean, seeing the 'rents and friends and stuff was great, but i missed being someone who is looked up to. I saw kids in the street and i'd pull a face, or try to talk to them. 9 times out of 10 I was blanked, and the rest were a little awkward.
Camp is a lot of things to a lot of people, and yet we all feel the same way about it. I feel lucky that i found it, because its made me a much more confident and, well, its made me a better person.
good post.
Ah! The joys of camp. It is really amazing to try to think about life before camp hits you in the face. I had flash backs while reading this post. Very well put!
life without camp will be unimaginable and i don't want to even think about it. :0(
All I can think to write is, "good post". So, good post.
mmmm camp
xokate
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