The Camp

I am not sure how old I was when we moved to the camp. The camp itself is a vivid memory. It was a three room cabin, shack really, on a smallish lake. In order to get ot the shack, you had to drive down a long, pitted dirt road through the woods. The main road that lead to it the dirt road wasn't that main either. There was a general store on the road though that sold overpriced canned goods on dusty shelves, and bins of penny candy. The cabin itself was tucked into a grove of pine trees just a few feet from the lake. An outhouse stood far off to the right and up further from the lake. A dock extended into the lake which had no beach.

Inside, there was a small kitchen area set up in the front. There was a gas stove, and a sink with a pump. Mom sat up a rickety kitchen table in that area for the adults. We kids would eat most of our meals outside on the junky pinic table. The living room held a fold out couch and a chair. The room furtherest to the pack had two sets of bunkbeads. There were paint by number paintings all over the walls, mostl animals but a few nature scenes. The whole place felt damp and dirty no matter how much cleaning and airing out Mom did. There was no elecricity. We kids didn't mind though as we spent the summer days outside in the lake or in the woods.

The water was so cold that your feet when numb when you waded even in July. But the joy of youth is that cold water means nothing. We would swim until our lips turned blue. Then we would jump onto the dock, lying down on the warm faded wood. We would dangle our heads over the edge looking at the fish through the clear water. The sun would brown our backs, warming us, until we could jump in and freeze all over again. Sometimes we would run through the woods. The boys would want to play cowboys or wars, and for a while I'd play along with them. But soon I'd grow bored with their imaginary violence, and began to serach for fairies and elves. We would only come in when it was dark. My mom would feed us hotdogs and mac and cheese. We would then climb into our bunks, and go to sleep.

During the summer my family would come often. There were always dozens of cousins running around with us. The grown ups would sit outside drinking Tom Collins mix and beer, gossping while us kids ran wild. We were all long lean limbs, brown and covered in brusises, scabs, and cuts. For the most part, the adults would leave us alone. My dad was only home on the weekends, and then he would fish with us. We never caught anything but we liked to sit with him on the edge of the dock. Somtimes he'd bring his younger brothers or sisters home. I noticed that this would make my mom's go tight, and the lines around her eyes would strectch but she never said anything.

Once the fall came the camp wasn't so much fun. There was no heat in the cabin. In September, my mom asked my dad when he was going to move us. He promised soon. We weren't going to school because the bus only came along the main road, and it was too far away to walk too. At night it was cold. We started to all sleep with my mom on the fold out couch. We'd wake to see our breath on the morning air as we scurried to get on warmer clothes. My mom would run the gas stove for a little while at night so we could get warm. She stopped cleaning, and spent most of her time wrapped in a blanket, crying, sometimes reading a book. Our family stopped coming to visit except for my grandmother who would come once or twice a week with food. We'd run like puppies towards her car, sceaming and laughing as she pulled into the driveway.

My dad started to miss weekends which meant that we relied on my grandmother for food. She would tell my mom "You have to insist that he moves you." And finally, "Come with me into Skowhegan, and we'll find you an apartment. We'll sign you up for AFDC and foodstamps." But my mom wouldn't leave. When my dad did come he complained about the state of the house and asked my mother why she couldn't keep things up. They'd began to fight, my mother's rage flowing over the house. My dad would sulk, until my mom's sob brought him to her. Then he would began to promise: "I'll move you soon." "I'll get us a big house with a yard."

He finally moved us at the end of October into a small trailer. It did have a big yard but more importantly it had heat and elecricity.