Mapplehurst

Joel Goldsmith

I remember very vividly my summer between the sixth and seventh grade. I was going to fly to Michigan two weeks before the rest of my family to go to an overnight camp. A camp called Mapplehurst. It was my first time flying on my own, and I hated flying. However the excitement made the long flight bearable and when I made it to the Detroit airport I was overjoyed to see my grandfather on my mother’s side waiting to pick me up.

I had and still do have a profound respect for my grandfather. He represents to me the American dream, and came out on top, but at the same time maintains he individuality. I remember him telling us the story of in the 70s when he and my grandmother went to see Deep Throat in the movie theater and enjoyed it so much that he came back with all his friends to see it a second time.

He dropped me off at my aunt’s house where I slept the night, sharing a room with my cousin Danny who would be my partner in adventure over the next two weeks. We were going to be in the same cabin, and while he was an experienced veteran with overnight camps, this was my first time away and would be my last. In the morning, his mother, my Aunt Marci would be driving us to upstate Michigan, where our new life together would start.

I had never been upstate before. So used to the California summers, there were several qualities all catching me off guard at the same time. In California everything turns brown or golden, which in its own way is beautiful, but it did not compare to the glowing green that resonated from the upstate forests and plant life. It was humid in the Midwest, and I was used to the dry summers in California that caused wild fires. And even though it was summer, there was rain every night that was soothing to fall asleep to. The lighting was quite the opposite. The flashes shot straight down, or up, I couldn’t tell, but it was loud and amazing to watch.

When Danny and I finally got to camp, Danny began by reuniting with friends from the year before. I was alone. Sitting there I began to figure that this camp was like the army, or the police. Children came there, and after serving for a certain amount of time, became CITs, and then the CITs became counselors, and then the counselors became teachers or coordinators at the camp, and I even bet that the founder of the camp once followed this chain of command as well. My cousin was looking to follow the path laid out in front of him.

The first thing I did was find a basketball hoop. I wasn’t especially good at basketball, but I had passion for the sport, although now I have been reduced to a spectator. The court seemed old and out of place in the wilderness. It was concrete and chained in much like the courts in He Got Game. Knockout was the game and I joined right in. I wasn’t the best, I never am. I just hover with the upper half and occasionally get lucky. Well today was my lucky day, or so I thought, my shots were going in, my aim at the other balls was perfect and before I knew I was the winner. But sometimes being a rooky in a new place, coming in, and winning, is not the way to make friends. The glares of the other competitors caught my eye and I understood that I was not intended to win.

When coming to a camp that my cousin had been to, I half expected him to have my back. Little did I know it would be the opposite. I had forgotten he was younger than me, and, although he had been there before and made friends, it also meant he had made enemies. The first night I didn’t sleep at all, I just watched the lightning over the lake the camp was named after. The light was purple.

We woke up every morning at the same time. It was 7:30 and I was just rolling out of bed. I had only been there a day, but I felt like I had been there much longer. Whenever I stayed away from home as a child, if I could make it through one night, I got this feeling that I could make it through every night, and then all the nights become the same. After this first night, I am at home. My cousin and our cabin mates made our way to a large circular area in the center of the camp. That is where every one else was, including the CIT who woke me up in the morning. His name was Speedy.

After eating, we all picked activities that seemed like they would be fun. In the morning, I was to do water sports, and in the afternoon, archery.

I loved the feeling of moving under water, it wasn’t a liquid surrounding me, but a solid and I would become a part of it. Like my old swim coach used to tell me, “Do not think of the water as water, think of it as a brick wall, that you must place your arm around and pull on it to push yourself forward.” Swimming is made of corners and walls and brick. Knowing how to work against the water, the water sports quickly became one of my favorite events.

I hated my superiors. My cabin was the only cabin without two counselors. There was instead only one accompanied by two CITS. The counselor was going to leave halfway through the camp, and leave the two CITS in his place. The counselor was from Wales, he had a heavy accent that fit his immature personality. He wasn’t exactly bad, I just had never been away at a camp with people his age. He would swear at us and call us names, not out of rudeness, but simply out of fun the way a teenager pokes at their friends. At the end of the second day I wrote my first note to my father;

Dear Dad,

I hate it here, it looks ok, but the people are mean. Today my counselor called me a penis. I hate it here. I know you’re in California, but can I please come home?

My father got the letter, and called the camp. The heads of the camp went to talk with him, and told him to find out how I was doing.

“Aye Joel”

“Hello.”

“How you doing mate?”

“Fine.”

“Ok.”

I didn’t know my dad had called. And I didn’t know he was actually asking me how I was. I thought he was just saying, “What’s up?” or some shit like that. I would have said I was unhappy if I had known he was asking me genuinely.

Then there was Speedy, who loved playing games and having fun. With other people.

“Hey Joel, did you know if you take a disposable camera, and bust that fucker open you get these two metal parts that can shock people? Comere and let me show you.”

“Hey Michael, did you know if you shot enough water from a squirt gun into some one’s mouth, some comes out their nose? You gotta come here and try it.”

It was raining. Not many people chose to do water sports because of that. I often found myself alone save for the occasional appearance of a French girl who had an affinity for the water as well.

My cabin mates formed an interesting cast. One of the boys was a military man, camo shorts, jacket, and that military hair. Another was a child named Michael with a strong lisp. A third was a scrawny littler boy with dirty, red hair. And then there was me, I was the one listening to music and wandering awkwardly from person I didn’t know to the next person I didn’t know. Although we were all very different, we all felt the same way about the counselors and CITS.

The day we had been waiting for was fast approaching. Our counselor from Wales was going back and leaving the two CITS in charge for the end of the camp.

“Hey Speedy, check out these boxers!”

The CIT pointed down to his boxers with a forest on them, a banana plant, and lettering that said, “See how long my banana is.”

“Awesome man, check out what I got.”

Speedy released his boxers unto the world. An elephant saying “Guess how long my trunk is?” With measurements on the side in inches.

Then Speedy did something no one expected. He stretched the ends on the opening of his boxers just enough for his sack to fall neatly on the measurements.

“Michael, how long is it?”

“I-I Do-on’t know.” Michael said turning his head away from Speedy who had walked right up to him.

“How long is my sack?” He said laughing as he collected himself back into his boxers.

Then in one motion, he turned to the red head, almost forcing him against the wall and once again slid out, right into the child’s hand.

“What a faggot, he touched my balls.” After gathering himself one more time, he picked redhead up by his boxers and hung him from a tree outside.

The other CIT was laughing, almost falling over, but staying very much not a part of it. We all were laughing. It was funny, but every one of us knew it was not appropriate.

“Now Joel, you’re from Cali, I know you don’t want to see my nuts, so here’s a compromise.” He lifted my body, but not by my middle or waste. After at least two minutes of carrying me by my head, he got tired and put me back down.

I don’t know who, but one of us wrote a letter to their parents, or told a counselor and immediately Speedy was discharged. Whether any of the families pressed charges, I’m not sure. We all collectively wanted him gone. He was bad to us, but we spent our summers with him. He was a piece in our cabin.

“Ok camp, as a tradition, on the last day we all sit around by the fire, so be sure to be there tomorrow at 4 o’clock.”

“ ‘Kay.”

It was the end of a long and sad journey.

“Ok, so does any one have anything to say about their experience here?” Asked the camp coordinator. We all sat around in silence, waiting for the first person to speak. The whole camp was there.

“I really liked going to that one lake on the boat last weekend and I think we should do more trips like that next year.”

“I’m glad to say I have spent my last summer here as a camper, and look forward to being a CIT next year!”

“I-I’m s-sorry to Speedy.”

And then there was silence. The one who spoke up was Michael.

“I’m sorry too.”

“So am I.”

“Me too.

“And me.”

And we all felt sad.

The next day our parent came to pick us up.

I went back to California, back to the brown and gold. Back to the As and Giants. Back home. The rest of the summer flew by.

7^th grade started and I was back in class with my friends who I knew. Nothing had changed. It was as if nothing had happened, and that might as well been the reality of it.