Xavier Walton's First Kiss
choice to burn holes with his glasses and request help by telling onlookers that he “misplaced his glasses.”
The athlete of our bunk was none other than Eddie Salinger. Eddie was like a human pogo stick; he could jump higher than any other kid I had ever seen, and we all thought that he bounced like a kangaroo. It was helpful to have Roo around because he helped us win many games and could hide things in extremely high places.
There is always a Dr. Doolittle in every group, and Andrew Yelland was no exception. Instead of “talking to the animals,” Andrew had a special relationship with our bug friends. By special, I mean special! The guy never had a mosquito or bee bite, but could direct a swarm of bugs in any direction. Believe me, I made sure my bed was on the other side of the bunk from Bug.
Add in Adam Feldman, alias Superman, who was able to withstand atomic wedgies at a single bound, and we had quite the Terrific 10. Powers like these would have mild if separated, but once these special talents were united there was no stopping Bunk 10!
I remember this one hot afternoon when the camp was just a bit too quiet. Quiet is the kind of sound that is deafening to the ears of kids looking for action. This one girl had provoked us for the better part of a week.
Sandra Heart was the ringleader for Bunk 11 on the girl’s side of camp. She was always flaunting her “cool” stuff in our face and we had seen enough of her parade of coolness. We let it slide when she paraded the newest Gameboy in our faces, but when she crossed the line and lit us up with her huge Super Soaker it was all-out war.
Albert had received his latest shipment of sweets, and for some reason his mother put a bag of balloons in the box. He opened the box and we examined the contents and said, “Dude, what’s with the balloons?”
He gushed and replied, “It’s my birthday tomorrow.” Not only had Mrs. Albert crossed the line by sending a 12 year-old balloons, she also had a special message attached to each inflatable device. We blew up a few balloons and were dying of laughter by the time we saw “It’s Your Big Day”, “Mo’ candles”, “Make a Wish”, and “12 Rules!”
Once I saw “12 Rules!” I knew that Sandra “Cruella” Heart would be feeling our wrath that day. The camp was eerily quiet that afternoon; the temperature was in the mid-90s and campers were sent to their bunks to avoid heat stroke. There was a clear path from the boy’s camp to the girl’s camp for one of the rare moments in camp history.
The plan was quick and decisive – no one would be left behind. Every available resource and skill would be exhausted in this all-or-nothing mission. Everyone had a role in the bunk but I was the X-factor or the “X Man as they called me. I was the one that always got everyone exciting about an idea. If someone needed convincing, I was the man to call for instant focus.
I passed the idea over to Bruiser, who never needed a piece of paper to lay out the master plan. He thought for a few seconds and then gathered the guys for a brief meeting.
“OK guys, here’s the plan. Albert you fill your balloons with water and then stuff them in your shirt. Superman, get your cape on and an extra pair of underwear on and get ready to fly. Bug, rally the troupes and get ready to release them on
the girls. Roo, get your Air Jordan’s on and get ready to sky. Blinky, your mom’s coming to camp tomorrow and you need to discuss the stressful details with the camp director. Specs, get those real big classes out and get ready to turn up the heat.
360, it’s spin and fling time. Press, you hold down the girl’s camp head until the cost is clear. When we’re ready, X Man lead us out” Bruiser concluded.
I chimed in, “Let’s get it in her boys! On three… One, two, three… BUNK 12 RULES!”
Within a few minutes, “Operation Get Cruella” was underway. The ten of us casually began strolling toward the girl’s camp and then Blinky branched off and headed left for Mike Ivy’s, the Boy’s Camp Director’s, cabin. I could hear a knock behind us and Blinky say, “Mmmmmmike. Youuuuuu have a mmmmmminute?” More like 20 minutes at least of trying to calm Blinky down. His mom was not only a constant source of irritation and stress, she was also a wealthy glue heiress. It was Mike’s job to make her comfortable whenever she came to camp, and he often gave up his own cabin for the woman that personally financed the camp’s new gymnasium.
We couldn’t just stroll in once we got to the girl’s side of camp, so I dispatched Press and Superman to create a diversion. There were 12 girl’s cabins and out target, Bunk 11, was situated on the extreme right side of the grounds. The two guys ran over to Bunk 1 and Press picked up the man of steel and wedgied him to a large nail about six feet off the ground and firmly attached to the bunk.
The guys gave us the thumbs up as we had moved into position on the side of Bunk 11. There wasn’t a soul to be seen outside of the bunks and I signaled to Roo to hop on up and make sure the girls were inside. A few leaps and bounds later, Roo gave me the thumbs up. I looked over at Bug and nodded – he went to the back of the cabin and released his little friends. Once I heard the first squeamish sound, I held a fist up at the wedgie crew and the fun began.
“Oh, my god!” Superman yelled as he pretended to be in excruciating pain. He was wearing a cape and a Superman t- shirt, only this time he refrained from flying. Within moments, girls were streaming out of their bunks to see what the commotion was. There was so much noise that no one heard
the high-pitch shrill of the girls of Bunk 11 screaming for their lives and running from the bugs.
Clawing and pushing her way out of the bunk was no other than Sandra Heart. She had to be first at everything; once she cleared the doorway, Albert loaded and 360 started to unleash wet terror. Sandra got hit it in the head with the first balloon and then turned around to get back in the bunk – the middle of the door was glass and it was pretty hot by the time Specs used the son to heat it with his glasses.
Heartless screamed as her eyebrows were instantly singed off. She bounced off the glass and got hit with a few more balloons before her bunkmates made it outside in time to get wet. I told the guys “Let’s go” and signaled to Press to give us a few minutes. He took the broom handle away from the Girl’s Camp Head’s door and ran to save Superman.
We heard the girl’s laughing at both Superman’s predicament and then Sandra’s wet hair and lack of eyebrows. The cool of the water instantly shut down any pain she had from the glass heat. No one was physically hurt, which is the mark of a real prank. It’s the mental anguish we were after.
Press came running through and was screaming, “What have they done to you! Are you all right, Adam?” Nobody had called him by his real name all summer but it seemed to work this one time. He continued, “Can someone get me a chair here! This man needs some relief!” A few girls scurried into a bunk and ran to Press with a chair. He looked at them and smiled, “Thanks ladies.” He almost blew it by trying to talk to them while Superman was supposedly hanging on for his life.
Press was so strong that he could have unhooked Adam with one arm. He struggled for a few seconds like he was lifting the entire bunk off the ground. He unhinged Adam’s underwear from the nail and the crowd of girls applauded. Superman was a superhero because he limped and grimaced for a good 100 yards before they walked out of sight. Press was quite popular at the social the next night.
We all made it back to our bunk and saw Blinky walk out of Poison Ivy’s cabin and say, “Thhhhhanks, Mr. Iiiiiiivey.” Ivy slammed the door shut and Blinky came running at us yelling, “Yes!” Not only was his mother not coming up any time soon,
he also wasn’t had no speech impediment, just those blinking eyes when he got nervous.
Blue Team
I loved Color War from the moment it was dramatically announced one night at dinner. The summer started to drag a bit after the Cruella prank and being a part of the blue team was the spark the summer needed.
The camp was divided into four teams – blue, red, yellow, and
green – in a point-based competition in a variety of events. With everything from song to athletics, to cleanliness and quiet being contested, the five-day event was the highlight of every summer.
Color War was so different because the fact that our bunk totally ruled had absolutely nothing to do with the outcome. I was on the same team with Specs and Roo, Press and 360 were on the red team, Bruiser, Fat Albert, and Blinky were on the yellow team, and Bug and Superman were chosen for the green team.
It was the one time all summer that were totally focused on one goal, but were weren’t doing it together. Allegiances were torn down as quickly as they were formed. The spirit of competition was quite alive in Camp Birch Lake, and the fun of competing against my friends was that knew each other so well. There were no surprises when it came to swimming against Superman. Of course, when I tied his swim trunks to the dock, he was the one surprised when they tore off as easily as a piece of paper. I didn’t win the race but we were winning the war.
For the first time all summer my cubbies were neat and clean and you could bounce a quarter off of my bed. The inspectors actually bounced a quarter off of your bed to see if you had properly made your hospital corners and tucked in your sheets and blanket. If the quarter stuck to the bed points were taken off for your team. One guy even tried to put rubber bands under his bed, but he was found out and the green team was penalized for cheating.
I didn’t really understand Color War the first time around
– everything was so much more comfortable the second summer. Being on the yellow team and coming in third place
was about as exciting as watching my science teacher talk about layers of the earth’s crust.
This battle was truly a war and I participated in as many events as I could. The first few days were just a prelude of things to come – I left basketball up to Roo and the nature hunt to Bug – I chose to play softball and Camp Jeopardy and the blue team won all of those events. The girl’s side of camp was killing us, though. By the third day of the competition, it was almost a dead heat between the blue team and the red team.
We were hanging out before entering the dining hall on the third night. Poison Ivy came through with a megaphone and announced, “Tonight’s dinner will be a quiet meal. Any sounds or words will penalize your team 100 points, starting now!” Teams received 50 points for each win, so 100 points for each sound or word would be a crushing blow to the penalized team.
With events like the Crazy Relay Race, Song Competition, Dance Contest, and a few sporting events, the outcome was still very much in the air. It was hard for a bunch of immature kids to be a serious for a minute, but there was so much pressure to conform, not seek negative attention by sounding
off. The temptation was so great to make a sound – the eerie quiet of the dining room definitely lessened the enjoyment of the meal. I usually enjoyed pancake night, but the tension in the room was deafening. I always loved the quiet but this silence was in no way golden.
There were a few close calls at the dining hall that night. This one nine year-old boy tripped, but managed to both hold onto his tray and keep any sounds bottled up inside of him. The entire camp gave him a silent standing ovation for that – the clapping part had to be completed with hands nearly striking each other.
It felt good to be able to talk once we cleared the Dining Hall. So much hot air trapped inside all of those bodies, sort of like a volcano erupting. The next morning I made my bed, made sure my clothes were all folded properly, passed inspection, and then headed toward the main field for the Crazy Relay Race.
With over 100 participants in this wacky race -- which called upon absolutely no average tasks -- coordination and determination would be needed to win. The combination of
girls and boys working together would have been deadly if the event wasn’t so important. Being as inexperienced around girls as I was, being paired with one of them to carry a bottle of water under our chins made me nervous.
My task was to walk around a group of cones with the water bottle under my chin and then pass it off to my female team member, who would repeat the action. We had to do this three times, all the while passing the bottle back and forth to each other without using our hands.
Five guys paired off with five girls before the start of the race – it was random and completely unplanned. My partner and I were second in line, so we were able to get an idea of the right way to transfer the bottle. It was funny but we had seen each other around camp but never knew each other’s names or talked to one another.
I started to sweat a bit as the running part of the relay concluded and the bottle pass began. The four teams were pretty close until Miriam Gross of the yellow team had trouble passing the bottle to her teammate, Billy Hollins. Billy probably should have showered that morning, or one of the few
days leading up to the event, in order to allow Miriam to get closer to him. It took the a few minutes on each pass and Miriam even tossed the bottle with her neck at Billy and he caught the thing.
The other three teams, blue, red, and yellow, were pretty much – excuse the expression – neck and neck. Our bottle was passed to the girl across from me and she went up and back around the small orange cones. As she approached me that action slowed through my mind.
She looked me straight in the eye and we instantly understood each other. We bended and twisted until I secured the bottle between my neck and my chin. I ran back and forth and then quickly exchanged the bottle with my partner. A few more quick times and I passed the bottle on to our next set of teammates. We had opened up a slight lead and it was up to the last four blue people to finish strong.
We were standing across from each other and I looked straight at my partner. A gentle breeze was blowing and her blonde hair was moving ever so slightly. She turned her head and looked directly at me with her bright blue eyes. I can’t
really remember what happened after that. I think we kept the lead but eventually lost the entire relay race to the red team.
The end of the competition was so close between the red team, and us, and it came down the last two events to decide the winner of Color War. All that remained were the Dance Contest and the Song Competition. The dancing portion of the festivities was a wild scene. I think they even took a picture from a helicopter one year of the action for the camp brochure.
Instead of picking a few of the camps best dancers to shake their grove things against each other, the entire camp got down together. Huge speakers were brought in and each dancer had to be matched up with a partner of the opposite sex. That’s probably the way they should have conducted the socials. Music would always have us bopping to the beat, but it rarely ever pushed us out on the dance floor.
If you give a kid a choice in a stressful situation, they will probably back down. Matching us up would have loosened the stress of asking a girl to dance and eliminated 99% of the initial work.
I was randomly pared with Susan Edmonds but I spent the entire time looking over the crowd for the girl I was paired off with in the relay race. It took me a few minutes but once I spotted Albert shaking his loose flesh, there she was. I looked at her at smiled as she smiled back and shook her head in disbelief. Getting paired with Albert was like being the only boy at an all-girls school: you would be noticed and removed quickly.
A few minutes after Albert and my water bottle girl were tapped on the shoulder and took a seat, me and Susan were asked to stop breaking it down. The only thing that was broken was my concentration – I couldn’t focus once she walked out of sight. It was no fun to show off if no one was paying attention.
Sharin’ Shari
The Dance Contest raged on for the better part of an hour and once the winners were announced, the party continued until it turned dark. The red team had won, and only needed to finish in third in the Song Competition to win the war.
I wanted to walk up to my water bottle teammate, I named her Aquafina, and dance with
her. Instead, my bunkmates came back together and the rest of the camp was doing the Electric Slide or some endless line dance. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I make the first move? The simple, yet emotionally complicated introduction was giving me fits.
The line to get ice cream stretched around the block by the end of the day. I could taste a chocolate éclair or a creamsicle in my mouth but knew that I would never get anywhere near the front of the line. I walked over and sat on a bench in the distance from the hungry crowd. The sun was setting and the camp was at its most beautiful. The trees were still and the smell of the freshly cut grass was filling my lungs.
“You want half?” a female voice said from behind me. I turned to my right as the girl sat next to me on the bench. She separated her creamsicle in half and gave one to me. “Thanks” I said smiling.
“How did you get to the front of that line?” I asked nodding my head at the line.
“My counselor was handing out the ice cream, so she gave someone in my bunk a box to hand out.” She waited for a moment and added, “You have a name?”
“Oh, my name us Xavier. What’s yours?” I said.
“My name is Shari,” she said while slurping on the melting ice cream.
“Sharin’ Shari, it’s good to meet you,” I said with a smile as a looked at her.
She got up from the bench as the camp’s Director blew his air horn, signaling that we had to back to our bunks. “Yeah, it’s been fun and X-cellent” she said.
We nodded and smiled at each other as Shari walked toward her bunkmates and back to her bunk. I stood there as long as I could and watched her walk with her friends until the very last streak of light vanished. Bruiser walked by me and said, “What the hell are you looking at? It’s dark outside.” I just turned around and walked back the bunk with my boys without even answering him. It was one of those memorable kinds of days that words could not do justice.