I was 12 years old. It wasn’t my choice to go. My mother just wanted to get me out of the house. I remember being given the choice of going to a Christian camp or a regular one. I chose the Christian one because I figured it would be easier to get thru. It’s not that I resented having to go. It’s just that I was generally a loner who’d rather be at home than out meeting other kids, especially other boys. I figured I’d give it a try though without putting up a fight. Besides, it was only going to take about a week or two from my summer.
I guess all campers had to take a TB test beforehand as I remember sitting on a gurney and coughing with some creepy doctor’s hand on my stomach, but I never thought the trip would trigger the first case of asthma I ever remember having. Actually, I didn’t know what it was. I just knew that, shortly after arriving, it became harder to breathe. It was a concern, but I knew I could’ve sought medical attention if needed, so I decided to tough it out while taking a considerable amount of effort to do something I’ve always been able to do with ease.
I saw Byrant; I’m almost sure that was his name; a boy I’d met in middle school not long before. We used to talk about movies and stuff in Mister Ellis’ art class. Bryant looked like the Tin Man from the Wiz movie, but he was always cool with me and it was a relief to see him there in camp. Though we were in different groups; our groups were separated by age and he was put in the one just below mine; and only saw each other when the groups got together at the main site for church service, meals and such, he was a friend among strangers.
The stay put me off of Lucky Charms for a while. It seems that’s all we ate. I remember seeing huge plastic bags full of it being dragged in by the staff. The two camp counselors and leaders of my group were a guy definitely named Smokey and a guy I think may have been called Tank. We all had nicknames. If we didn’t, we were given one by the group. I was supposed to be Al Bundy. It never really stuck, though I did have a chance to play into it eventually by saying “Let’s rock” to a campmate before a ball game, which was hilarious.
Smokey was the loud crazy type, always making jokes and having fun, while “Tank” was more quiet and subdued. I don’t even remember if he was there when Smokey started waking us up during what seemed like the middle of the night for some obnoxious fraternity play. He’d wake us, or see if we were really asleep, by shining a flashlight in our eyes and making us go in the bathroom or something. It was all in fun; he was a great counselor in that regard; but I was in no mood for games, so when he came to me, I pretended like I really was asleep.
It was antisocial behavior like that, along with staying on the sidelines while most of the others played basketball and such, that brought criticism my way when I was the first to win the coveted Camper Of The Day or Camper Of The Week honor. Some of the kids complained about it and they had a valid point, but they were probably just upset because they didn’t win. They said the next winner; the boy who cried because it was his first time being away from home for so long; only won because the counselors felt bad for him.
Despite a little criticism and a courtside altercation between a tall skinny black boy and one of the “ugly” brothers, we all basically got along; no fights; that is, until the very last day. It was morning and we were about to leave for home when the counselors, mainly Smokey, instigated a physical encounter between Bear; the biggest kid in our group; and a boy from the group cabined across from us. It wasn’t supposed to be a real fight, more like a wrestling match or something to see who was stronger and tougher.
Smokey rooted for Bear while the counselors from the other group rooted for their guy, but their guy let it go to his head. I remember him getting up in Bear’s face and pushing him or something like that. Bear obviously didn’t want to fight, which caused the boy to assault him more. That’s when Smokey flipped out. Smokey; a full-grown adult, at least to us; attacked the kid; a teen who himself looked and acted like a young adult. He might’ve even been the same dude who got into it with the “ugly” brother a few days before.
Smokey jumped on him, not playing around but seriously angry, and took him down to the ground. I remember all the commotion; “Tank” and the other counselors trying to break it up; as Smokey and the boy rolled around in a violent struggle. I, like other kids in our group, felt sorry for Bear and appreciated our Smokey defending him so vehemently. He was very much out of line though for attacking the boy, who appeared to be as startled as the rest of us, especially considering the fact that he (Smokey) was the main instigator.
It was the most exciting part of the stay, but, by then, I think it’s safe to say we were all ready to go home. The testosterone-driven madness, which at one point brought up talks of seminude ice-water swimming like the Polar Bear Club; an environment marked by daily Army drills with Jesus praise tossed in for good measure; had grown tiresome. One of the first things I did when I got home was sit down to a bowl of anything but Lucky Charms. One of the next was to have my mother take me back to the doctor for an asthma inhaler.