The other day I was looking at some old photos and I found some pictures that brought back awesome memories. The photos were of my friends at youth camp.
The teenagers at my church waited with bated breath all year for summer youth camp. It was a church camp that was located in the mountains several hours from our home in Sumter. Every tween in the church and every teen could hardly wait until it was time to go to camp Longridge.
Every year those of those of us who worked would take time off to go to youth camp. We had an old rickety bus that we packed full of teenagers, suitcases, and sleeping bags. With it blistering hot, we all clamored up on the bus and tried to make room for our belongings. Immediately we reached up and lowered the rattling windows only to hear verbal warnings from all of our family members about behaving. We waved goodbye to the group gathered in the church parking lot to watch us leave, and then we were off. I didn’t wave to anyone because my family was actually coming with us. My dad was the pastor, and he would be leading devotions at night, my mother was the nurse for the week, and since we had no one to leave my sisters with, she dragged them with us. It was a family affair.
The camp was rather primitive. There was only air conditioning in one cabin and of course, that was the cabin allotted to my mom, dad, and two sisters. The rest of us were separated and put into cabins with the girls on one side of the wide pathway and the boys on the other. There were about 6-8 girls and boys in each cabin with one bathroom. There was a mess hall where food was cooked by some of our church volunteers who came along with us. There were long tables and chairs set up in the mess hall and a small stage with a piano at the other end. There were fans on the floor and ceiling fans scattered throughout and open screens to let in cool evening air and morning air.
In our cabins there were wooden cots set up with rather thin mattresses on top. Each person brought his or her own pillow and sleeping bag. With screens in the windows, no fans and no air conditioning, most of us ended up just sleeping on top of the sleeping bags. The biggest issue of course, was six girls in one room fighting over a bathroom!
Our days were regimented. A loudspeaker would sound with reveille at 7:00 AM and breakfast was served at 8:00. We then had sports where most of us played volleyball. We then were required to choose a Bible verse we liked and find objects in nature that reflected that verse. Those would be displayed on our sleeping bag for judging and awards. Next we had lunch and then were sent off to have private devotions where there were questions we had to think about and answer. After that we had free time, and since there was a beautiful lake at the bottom of a steep hill we always wanted to go swimming. Then we were notified it was time to go back to get ready for dinner, so we hustled to get out of our wet things hang them up to go to supper. After that my father would lead us in devotions and we’d all go down the hill to the bonfire. Even though it was about 75° at night we would still have a bonfire, and these were the most special times for me. We all sang songs like “500 Miles”, “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore”, “Kumbaya”. “He’s Everything To Me” was my personal favorite. That’s when we would worship and sing together, and when it was over the canteen would once again be open. We’d all make a beeline in a rush to get a final soda and snack before lights out. Then we would climb in our bunks and tell jokes and act downright silly.
One night, my mother sent one of the boys down to the bonfire early to lay the wood and sweep off the wooden benches with a broom. But when everyone came to the bonfire and we were in the middle of singing, suddenly we were bombarded with bats. Everyone started screaming, and of course, some were screeching that the bats would make nests in our hair. One of the boys grabbed the broom and started swinging at the bats. That set my animal loving baby sister off, and chaos ensued. With teenagers ducking bats, screaming and running amok and my sister crying, dad gave up the bonfire devotion, and everyone fled, still covering their heads with their hands.
On the last day, my father gave everyone a stern warning. The campers were NOT to play around and carry on any shenanigans. They were to behave and get ready to pack up. Meanwhile, he and my mother and to briefly leave to run to a local market. As soon as they drove out of sight, it was on.
Shaving cream came out and toothpaste was squeezed. Water balloons were filled and garbage pails dumped on heads. It was boys against the girls. It was a madhouse.
To this day, my father still laughs about the sight he beheld when he drove back into camp.
My best friend Brenda was caught red-handed with the water hose; she had wet toilet paper dripping down from her head, put there by the boys.
Dad yelled for us all to come out and face the music. He did everything he could to control laughter as we all came out into the clearing with guilty lowered heads covered in garbage, toothpaste, toilet paper and shaving cream. We were a mess and so were the cabins.
As we all got yelled at with dad demanding that we clean up every spec of trash and mess, he asked who started the whole thing. Of course, we each blamed the other, but the boys swore that the girls started it by writing on their mirror with toothpaste which the girls vehemently denied.
It was all in fun, and everyone had brought along a can of shaving cream for this very purpose. It was tradition. It happened on the last day every year. Dad knew this, and that’s why he went to the market that day. And mom?
Guess who wrote on the boys mirror with toothpaste?
