A sparked memory

I was reminded of this when talking with Larry Sperber at the party in New York. I had remembered that Larry was the senior girls’ group leader in ’75, but I didn’t remember the circumstance. At the party, Larry told me he’d called Ed halfway through the summer and said he wanted to come back to camp. Ed said, “Well, the senior girls’ group leader just quit. Would you like to do that?” And, much to the delight of the girls, he accepted. How cool was it having a guy group leader? Very cool.

What I hadn’t remembered, and of course Larry wouldn’t have seen, was what we did to the previous group leader that caused her to quit. She was the nicest woman, named either Betty or Barbara, or something hopelessly uncool. She was the shape of an apple and always wore a smile. I think she thought that the closer she was to a cheerleader in demeanor, the more cooperation she would get from us. Mind you, we were 13 and 14 year old girls and jaded, old-time CLC-ers.

We ate her up alive.

Essentially, the senior girls went on strike. Even when our counselors managed to get us to go from one activity site to another, we refused to participate. I particularly remember being at volleyball, plunking ourselves down on the grass en masse, and ignoring Betty. She still had on that perky smile as she pleaded with us to get up and play, tears in her eyes.

Now I can’t guarantee this part happened exactly so, but I think I stood up and tried to get people playing. But I don’t think I was 100% heroic. Not that I want to drag Meryl into this possibly false (and mean) recollection, but I think we did a tongue-in-cheek performance, lampooning Betty’s cheerleading. We did get people playing volleyball, but I think we were making fun of poor Betty as much as we were participating in an actual activity. And I’m going to say that she was clueless enough to be grateful to us.

She was gone within the next few days. It was sad. I felt bad for her. But, really, she never stood a chance.

Next: How my bunk disposed of our dreaded counselor Shari.

Bats in the rec hall

During Friday night services, whoever was leading the service (Stu Katz? In ’69?) stopped the service and said, “I don’t want to alarm anyone, but there are bats flying around overhead.” This was naturally followed by screams and pandemonium.

Fire – 1971

What do you remember about the fire? Here’s my memory:

I was awakened by the sound of thumping feet coming up girls row and people shouting. By then the boys had already started running toward the front lawn. I remember thinking that maybe Color War had broken out but it was too early in the season. Somehow we all came to realize they were yelling “fire” and we got out of the bunk and went to the flagpole. 

On the front lawn, I was shivering like mad. It was cold out, but mostly because I was scared. My whole body was shaking. Then my mother came out, wearing her grey, wool nursing cape and she put the cape and her arms around me until I stopped shivering. My brother was in Studio, which was next to the A&C shack and he hadn’t come to the front lawn so I was so worried about him.

Neil Weinstein coming to our bunk after and telling us about how Horace turned “white as a sheet” when he spotted the fire, without thinking about what he was saying. We all started giggling at his gaff. It felt good to defuse the nervousness. The arts and crafts counselor in bunk 6 very often slept in the a&c shack, especially when the kiln was running. Fortunately, she didn’t that night.

I remember going by the pit the next day where the building had been. They had rescued some clay items and we could claim whatever we could find that was ours.  I did find some items of mine. I was 10 years old and in bunk 4.