Random Thoughts

I got to thinking of some of the simple everyday things I used to love about Wyanoke. Things like:

v Mrs. Morin’s sticky-bottom rolls which redeemed the turkey soup every Monday night.

v Free evenings after Parade and Cook-out.

v Crisp, or downright cold, August nights, with every star in the universe visible from the OD table.

v Getting up too early for Wharf Police.

v Wincing when we realized we had Chapel Police on a Sunday.

v Blueberries atop Mt. Major.

v The little store with the penny candy in East Brownfield, Maine, about a mile from the Saco.

v Pop Henderson chaperoning the train from Philadelphia in the ‘50s.

v Henny Knowlton’s huge frying pans full of sandy bacon on the beaches of the Saco.

v Cap Taylor and his wife living in that tiny cabin at Land’s End.

v Bacon and toast breakfasts.

v Coffee on the veranda with the Bentleys and the ladies after Sunday turkey.

v “Camp Jollies” with Mr. Scheirer in Cabintown in the ‘50s when it rained.

v Being afraid of Mr. Cooper (C-8, 1957).

v The ladies from Wolfeboro sewing name tags on our uniforms while we stood dejectedly in our underwear in the Camp Store.

v The ambivalence of closing-day emotions.

v The tremendous impact of Mr. Scheirer’s death.

v Sneaking into the ice house just to see what was in there.

v WHARF SPIDERS

v Setting up tents in pre-camp.

v Taking down tents in post-camp.

v Cleaning up the Midget rifle range before camp with the entire New Hampshire state population of mosquitoes.

v “Taps in fifteen minutes.”

v Overnights on Olds’ Beach and Parker Island.

v The nature trail. Sunday afternoon walks to the airport.

v The fruit cocktail at the Farewell Banquet.

v Everett Slocum’s endless baseball summaries at the Farewell Banquet.

v Reading to my tent group long after Taps.

v Dreading Reveille.

v The impossible task of cleaning the cookout pans with sand.

v Actually drinking Winnipesaukee water with no ill effects.

v The camaraderie in the Senior Pines after New England Boiled Dinner.

v The Sunday Bulletin – “Health: excellent” when the infirmary was filled with guys with colds.

v Never having anything to say in the mandatory Sunday letter home.

v Camp nurses and Witch Hazel.

v Feeling sorry for the kids who had to be tutored.

v The Council room nobody ever seemed to be in.

v Rowdy kitchen boys.

v Mr. Risser – “I got worms.”

v The indefatigable Freddie Nichols.

v Never getting up the nerve to call Mr. Bentley “Brad” to his face.

v The “odor barrier” along the Junior trail to the wharf.

v The two “private” stalls in the upper Junior Pines.

v Phil Hodgson and Mrs. Morin in the kitchen.

v The shredded baseball bat the kitchen boys used to knock the tops off the old aluminum milk cans.

v Freely spraying DDT around the tent on buggy nights (“get under the blankets”).

v The “Lost River”.

v Fighting off slapping mosquitoes during parades.

v The bologna sandwiches, oranges and Hershey bars on the Chocorua trips. Free Candy line.

v Atomic Fireballs.

v “No jumping!”

v The candle procession in self-imposed, lump-throated silence after the Farewell Banquet.

All these are like photographs in my mind.

Mike Freeland