The Council Room

[ghirst]

I still remember Norman Risser fishing off the diving board at the senior end of the wharf. He always used a fly rod and hellgrammites as bait, fishing off the bottom. He always caught bass and he taught me a lot.
I remember Cap Taylor and his wife teaching us to make gingerbread in a reflector oven at Lands End. I remember Hennie Knowlton down at the wharf, teaching us swimming. I remember Senior Sunday when each tent, in turn, had to sweep the Chapel, both inside and on the porch facing the lake. When finished we'd all RUN down the hill, strip and swim. I remember all my (mostly unsuccessful) efforts to catch bass from a rowboat at Bass Rock. At 75 years of age, just walking competently is a challenge.
Not sure what inspired me to share these recollections this morning but I guess I had an attack of Wyanoke nostalgia and it feels real good. I realize I may be among the oldest living campers (1948-1956). I hope everyone makes a point of looking at the camp rosters which I posted photos of on this site, thanks to David Bentley for making them available to me.

[David Bentley]

I am glad you had the "nostalgia attack", and I join you in the memory department.

Some of my memories are really good, and some not so good, but the big deal is that I (and all of us) have the memories.

Sometimes accuracy fades a little, but, as long as the memories are close to the mark, who really cares.

So, Grant, at 75 you can have all the memories you want, and if they include a 5 lb 4 oz bass caught bare-handed, I'll agree with you.
_________________
C-1 49 J-7 52 S-3 55 J-10 58
C-7 50 J-7 53 S-2 56 J-8 59
C-8 51 J-4 54 S-7 57 (JA) J-8 60 - 64
1965 - 1968 Military service
Pine Cone 68 - 75 (with wife,Sherry,
and daughter Tracey)
Wolfeboro - full-time since 1997

[David Bentley]

It seems a little strange to follow myself with a posting, but I had an experience today that I just want to share. Actually, I am looking for a little support to bolster my self-pity.

Sherry and I had some errands to do, and while she was wandering the aisles of the Michael's craft store, I went next door to Dick's Sporting Goods. Now, let's all remember, I grew up in, instructed at, and lived the life of a summer camp councilor, so, modestly and humbly, I lay some claim to sports (not to mention 4 years of high school participation).

Well, let me tell you, sports equipment today is not the sports equipment of your earlier days.

About the first thing I saw when I entered was a golf display. I never really played golf, but almost every meal in Winchester included a detailed description of either my mother's latest golf game, or my father's latest golf game, and, frequently BOTH. My only involvement with the sport was to be an occasional caddy and make a few bucks. But, this allowed me to create an up close and personal relationship with the clubs involved in the game. Forget that, todays clubs are made from salvaged UFO composites, have adjustment screws to fine-tune the weight and balance to your specific needs/wants, and cost about what a full round of 18 holes, a caddy, and an after-round drink used to cost. I didn't mention a golf bag because I honestly believe you need a wided-load permit and extra lights to take it out of the store. So much for golf.

I wandered into the camping area. To me, camping was, actually, camping. Not anymore. Nothing is real, again, all synthetics, all hi-tech, and in any color you could possibly want, except, maybe, our favorite color being scrubbed aluminum and olive drab canvas. Oh, woe is me. To suitably fit yourself out in today's market you need so many gadgets that you might need to shoot back and pick up one of the golf bags previously mentioned. Tents, so many styles, so many colors, so many sizes, to take a Saco trip would require an ocean-going canoe towing a substantial cargo raft loaded with gear. What ever happened to a poncho and a sleeping bad nestled under a canoe? I must have slept through the intervening years.

So, I skipped the camping section and went to look at the baseball equipment. Oh my! Seems to me that, in general, all baseball gloves looked alike. Excluding the catcher and the first basemam, everyone else had 4 fingers, a clunky thumb, some woven rawhide between the thumb and 1st finger, and a strap that kept the glove mostly on your hand. Oh, and by the way, they were all the same relative shade of leather/rubbed in dirt/left out in the rain/dried in the baking sun. Not any more! Leather, I didn't realize, comes in sooooooooo many colors, shades, hues, tones, and designer mixes that unless you carry a picture of your glove in your around-the-neck locket you will never remember which is yours between innings. Oh, did I mention size? I was looking at one glove, a multi-colored, adjustable strap, double woven web, and, right before my eyes a seven year old boy crawled out of the thumb opening, excused himself, and continued on his way. Then was when I retired from baseball.

Throughout the store there was clothing, OMG was there ever clothing. Truthfully, even the Kardashian Klan would be able to find a suitable wardrobe in this place. Tight pants for those who want to exercise; loose pants for those wh want to exercise. Jerseys with logos, some logos so large they had jerseys with arms and neck holes.

Let us not even begin to discuss tennis equipment. There were ensembles of clothing and equipment for the family that wants to play together in fashion harmony. There were racquets costing as much as my first car (payment plan available), excluding balls.

So, after being totally humiliated by 2015 sporting equipment, not to mention all the do-dads like bells, whistles, cardio-monitors, O2 meters, hats, glasses (Oooop, I am sorry, "eye care products") I was ready for a candy bar.

Hah, silly me, and I even had the stupid naivete to actually ask a scantily clad sales clerk if they sold candy bars. Well, they had protein bars, energy bars, super-protein bars, super energy bars, gluten free bars of all types, styles, and shapes, and, for your thirst abatement, energy drinks of all persuasions and sizes (even more than the Bloomberg 20 ozs).

So without mentioning the shoe department, the hat department, the scarf and glove department (this is New Hampshire), and the long, insulated, thinsulted, micro-woven duo-layed moisture wicking underwear, I was about ready to leave.

As I was heading to the door, still in a self-induced daze, some young thing walked up and asked, "Did you find what you were looking for?", in a voice several octaves above my hearing comfort range and also several decibels below my hearing ability range. I smiled, made some innocuous remark about how much stock they had in stock, and exited.

I can honestly say, I was never so glad to see Sherry exiting Micheals and heading my way.
_________________
C-1 49 J-7 52 S-3 55 J-10 58
C-7 50 J-7 53 S-2 56 J-8 59
C-8 51 J-4 54 S-7 57 (JA) J-8 60 - 64
1965 - 1968 Military service
Pine Cone 68 - 75 (with wife,Sherry,
and daughter Tracey)
Wolfeboro - full-time since 1997

[Tom Shirley]

I remember showing up to camp with one pair of sneakers, one pair of cleats, a baseball glove, a tennis racket and a soccer ball. I think that was more than most kids back then. When my boys were still home and in school they each has separate special shoes for each sport with some sports "requiring" multiple difference shoes. Baseball with metal spikes, soccer cleats for hard ground, another pair for soft ground, another pair for indoor soccer, basketball, it goes on and on. Of course none of these can be worn on a daily basis which means even more shoesWe built special cubbie like storage in our mud room and there were still shoes all over the floor. I blame NIKE. Before they came along in the mid '70s none of this was going on.
_________________
J-1 1970, Marc Liddle from Scotland
J-1 1971, Bob Vaughn
S-3 1972, Steve McDavitt
S-2 1973, Charlie Thomas
JA-2 1974, Dan Mannis
JA-1 1975, Dave Ayers

Proud to be Gray

[DavidAyars]

Dave, that piece you wrote about sports equipment is classic... hilarious...and dead on. Except I think you meant to say that today each new golf club (never mind a complete new set of clubs) costs as much as a round of golf, the services of a caddy, and a premium single-malt scotch at the 19th hole cost back in the day. That post is good enough to run in a magazine, except they'll pass only because magazines have enough trouble selling ads these days without you throwing a bottle of imported electrolyte energy drink on the dreams of weekend warriors everywhere that if they just buy the newest technology, they'll be competitive with the pros.
_________________
Camper: J-8 1965 (Kevin Ryan), J-8 1966 (Mike Freeland), S-6 1967 (Russ Hatch), S-3 1968 (Jeremy Cripps), and JA-2 1969 (Dan Mannis).
JC: J-2 1970 (Bill Bettison) and J-3 1971 (Gene Comella). Councilor 1972, J-5 1973, and JA-1 1974 & 1975