idontbelieveingrammar

A few months ago, in a conversation with a friend, about who we used to be, and how other people remembered us. She said something wise that I’m sure I’ll get wrong here. Something about how we are all pretty much the same. Who we are is essentially who we were. Maybe with a few more (or less) pounds, fresh highlights and with more insurance. I told her that I didn’t want that to be true. That I wanted to think that we all change and grow and get better. And I wasn’t sure that there was much of the 15 year old, or 18 year old or even 22 year old version of myself that I wanted to keep. And today I realized that maybe she was mostly right. And there are a few things I don’t mind hanging on to after all. It is July. And July to me means foot lockers packed with Sunday whites and Mohawk red. Not looking down on the catwalk. BBQ by the river. Sun In. The Wagon Wheel snack shop. Dancing in the alcove. Sticking to my mattress. Late night talks in bunks. Vinegar in my ear. Tipping canoes....

For almost a month in July they were mine. A few dozen 15-16 year old girls. They came from some of the best neighborhoods and private schools to group homes and everything in between. And somehow, magically, the guards and labels and cars and boyfriends and social status didn’t seem to make it very far past those slamming double screen doors. And it only took a few nights on those hard bunks hearing each other snore and cry and fart and giggle for everyone to start getting real. And no one put on their make up in the morning. Hair air dried or immediately went up into a ponytail and it was one big community closet. And during the day we swam, fished, crafted, walked up a lot of hills and stole ice from the ice machines. After lunch they read the newest Harry Potter books on their bunks and passed around the latest Seventeen magazine. Or shaved their legs with spray bottles. Dug through their caboodles. Listened to their Discmans. Wrote their friends or boys and occasionally...

ok last day of camp. and I am worn out. completely drained. out of words....so some pictures and tunes will have to suffice. and a note about the tunes. urban impact week took me back to my urban roots. well sort of. at least me driving around in my country club neighborhood with the windows down blaring this music out of my stereo. be warned -- i think all of these songs are parental advisory and completely offensive. these are nothing close to the sleepy churcy songs I usually post. and don't worry, i grew out of it. Did I leave any "classics" out??

Camp day 3. (feel free to catch up here and here ) The kids are comfortable. A little too comfortable. We are all hot and tired and kind of getting a little short with each other. Names are easy to remember. I know my way around. I don't feel lost anymore. There is more than enough food at lunch today and it is good. There are even brownies. I try not to notice that some of the kids are wearing the same clothes they wore yesterday. It is pretty obvious that some of the camp summer work staff (not ours) is less than thrilled to have us here. I’m sure they are nearing the end of their summer, and let’s face it. They are used to rich white church camp kids. Not kids with tattoos and nipple rings and foul mouths. The staff is a little low on patience and understanding. The counselor I am working with wins major props with me for telling off a life guard for basically being a jerk to our kids. Because by now. On day three, they are very much our kids. Also, maybe bb guns ( loaded bb gu...

One thing about camp that I was least looking forward to was eating in the cafeteria. Well we are eating IN the cafeteria, but not going through the line. I guess to save money. Yesterday there was a big box of hot dogs, and chips and Capri Suns. I was still pretty hungry after my one hot dog. Today I was hoping for pizza. Instead there were trays of chicken nuggets, another of hashbrowns (odd combo) and another box of clementines. I saw two volunteers frantically making plates as kids filed in and found tables. I went to help. Since I wasn’t wearing gloves they told me to pass out oranges. I reached into the box and felt something a little gooey. Not what I expected with oranges. The first few I pulled out were moldy. Something green and fuzzy was growing on the outside. I almost gagged. I started to let someone know, but figured they already did. So I pulled out most moldy ones and set them aside. I brushed the fuzz off the others and started passing them out. I started to tell the ...

I have always been a camp girl. But it has been almost a decade since I have done anything other than look at old photographs. This week I am back at camp. Urban Challenge Week. Which is really just a nice way of saying kids from area shelters and a children’s home. I have been looking forward to it all summer. Until I went to orientation last week. And after learning more than I ever wanted to know about sexual predators and promised not to give anything but side hugs and to wear a one piece bathing suit. I started to worry a little bit about the heat. It has been 106+ for like the last two weeks. And they said the camp has very little shade. And there will be lots of walking. And a little bit about the urban part. What will they think of a middle aged white girl? I am not 21 anymore. These kids aren’t going to think I am cool. And maybe, like most non-profit organizations, they go a little easy on the organization. So I showed up ready to go this morning. Keep in mind I know no one. ...

As soon as I turned 10 my parents started sending me to camps. Church camp, sports camps, orchestra camp (yes, get your jokes out of the way), girlscout camp and your classic summer camp. You know the kind with girls on one side of the river boys on the other, the kind where you are assigned a tribe on your first night (go mohawks) and compete the rest of the summer. The winner to be announced at the very end of closing ceremonies and the place erupts in crazy cheers. (very Harry Potter now that I think of it). I spend the majority of my summers until I was 21 going to or working at a camp in Hunt, TX. I skipped a few here and there, but during the summer months (and especially July since I was a session 2 girl), I often find myself remembering camp. Where I learned a few things. Like……….. How to share a bathroom with 30+ girls. How to sleep on top of your already made bunk so you won’t have to make it in the morning. The importance of mail. That you will get caught when you sneak out...