A favorite CLC memory
It wasn’t any one night. It was every so often, and it was always so special and magical. Maybe it could have happened anywhere and it’s just one of those carefree times of childhood. But it happened at camp, so that’s how I remember it.
We used to lie on our backs at night in front of Studio–me, maybe a girlfriend, my brother, and Bobby Price. Maybe Mitch Feldman instead of my brother, maybe just me and Bobby and my brother. Though he would later be my boyfriend for about a minute, at the time Bobby and I were young enough that it was all very innocent, when just being near each other made us feel happy. All we would do was lie there forever (Where was evening activity? Why were we allowed to do this?), staring at the sky, waiting for a falling star.
There was nowhere we had to rush off to; we had the luxury of having no cares or worries to urge us to go somewhere, do something.
I have never seen a night sky as perfect as the sky at night in front of Studio at Crane Lake. ”Busy” is the best way I can think to describe it; with no city lights for 50 miles to pollute or dilute it, you could see every star and planet the heavens had to offer.
The best way to find a falling star was to look nowhere and everywhere at once, allowing your eyes to lose focus and stare at nothing, while being accutely aware of any movement of light in any part of your range in vision. We were so young, and the sky so old, so old that ancient stars that were years dead came to life to dance one time, and for us.
That was wonderful to read.
I was probably in that bunk that night or at an activity.