Sunday, July 21, 2013

I don’t know

I know it is Sunday because my favorite radio show is on. I don’t even brush my teeth as I throw myself outside because I need to move after having a lazy morning. I don’t know why.
There are no police cars or massive trucks this morning. Only a sign that warns, “Bump”. I avoid the chance it could still be the crater from yesterday and ride around it, thinking about warning signs. What does “Bump” mean? I don’t know. It might mean there is a little mountain to slow drivers or a crevice that would swallow up a bicycle. I wonder they don’t make signs that say “Giant Gorilla” or “Persons Maybe Working” or “Watch Out!” Now those signs would slow you down.
As I wander on thinking about a friend who is on a long path finding a home for his father and another searching for a new childhood while yet another prepares to become a grandfather, I just don’t know. I can give support but I never knew his mother. Having a baby in your 60’s, I just don’t know. And the big man with bad knees about to become an instant babysitter.
Then again I don’t know what paths they have been through and they don’t know mine. So I refer back to the morning show’s topic: Camp. Now that it is hot and summer is supposed to be hot the topic of “camp” arises again. I do know that I’ve written about camp before but there was a phrase in today’s program that caught my attention.
There are those who go to camp and there are those who do not. If camp is a pleasant enough experience in your teen years, it will always be a reference to those who were there that cannot understand. Camp is merely participation by a few, who attend, willingly or not, to experience the outdoors and bond with others. They are put in barracks like army troops or prisoners and assigned bunks with activities monitored by older teens. The show today emphasized the rituals and codes used in camp allowing young men to play Indians or some sort of warrior traditional and girls camp where they can compete and scream. Screaming and hollering and cheering and bizarre chants were all used in this show but I don’t remember campers doing this. I remember the traditional flag pledging and camp songs but what do I remember. I don’t know. It was a long time ago.
I do recognize camp as a way to get me out of the house. I’m sure mom and dad were tired of me just sitting in my room drawing pictures all summer, so they shipped me off to camp. At first it was day camp. It was the first time of being on a school bus and it was not a pleasant ride. Out in the woods somewhere, we were told to run and jump through poison ivy and swim in lakes full of snapping turtles and water moccasins with some glee. We played baseball in overwhelming heat and ate stale lunches then got to nap on the ground while the ‘counsels’ thought up some more torture for us to endure.
If that didn’t cut it, I was driven down to another state and left weeks to another camp. Maybe this was part of the growing up process or maybe my parents were hoping I would get lost in the woods and not come back. I don’t know. That ordeal wasn’t quite so bad when I learned I could shoot a rifle, shoot an arrow, and sail a boat. Did I keep up with any other campers or form bonds? No. I don’t know why.
So as the storms come to hopefully cool down the air, I’ll close for another day. So many mysteries reveled and so many more hidden. I just don’t know.

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