CAMP LAKEWOOD

Remember my two friends from first grade, Judy and Janice? When we were about ten years old, the three of us went to a Y camp called Camp Lakewood held at Montgomery Bell State Park. Both of the sisters had attended this camp and had had great experiences, so our mothers felt it would be good for us, also.

When we arrived on a Sunday afternoon in June, we were greeted by our counselors and shown to our cabin. It was tiny with four very narrow beds or cots and no electricity or plumbing. We met our fourth cabin mate, a girl I vaguely knew from church; she was a year younger than the three of us. When I look back on that time, I realize how difficult that must have been for her to be stuck with three really good friends who were all a year older than she. I do remember that we occasionally would try to include her with us, but I also recall that we considered her somewhat of a nuisance. She surely must have picked up on that.

The memories I have of the various activities during the two weeks are somewhat vague. I know that we all made lariats, and mine wasn’t very good. I also remember the tent campout one night and how a girl from Chattanooga spilled a bottle of citronella on the wooden floor of the tent. The smell was overbearing and we became very irritated at her. We swam in the lake and hiked the trails during the day, and of course at night sat around the campfire and sang. (Remember "Kookaburra sits on the old gum tre-ee"?)

I also remember the bath house where the concrete showers and old toilets and sinks were. We were all in mortal fear of the spiders that were supposed to be there. I don’t remember ever seeing any, but we knew they were lurking around close by. The one thing we didn’t want to do was have to visit that place during the night.

The best thing that happened to me, the event that was to have the most lasting benefit was when I finally jumped into water that was over my head and swam out. I had known how to swim in shallow water for a year or two but was still afraid when I got in the deep end. The instructor was very patient with me while I stood there for what seems like fifteen or twenty minutes just trying to get up the nerve to take the plunge. She had a long pole and she kept telling me to grab it when I came up if I needed to. Of course, when I did jump in, I wanted to swim all around and didn’t need the pole at all. It took just the one leap and I was fine.

When we had been there a week, it was visitation day. I still remember standing at the bottom of a hill and watching my family come down, MA and BJ running, and Daddy and Mother following at a sedate pace. I don’t remember how long they stayed or what we did while they were there; I just recall that when they left, I was sorry to see them go, but I had no desire to go with them. I really wanted to stay the remaining week. There were many girls around me who were crying and begging to go home (and some did), but I was not one of them. Looking back, I think that my reaction was healthy.

By the next summer, Judy had moved away from Nashville, and we didn’t go back. But I cherish the memory of that one summer at Camp Lakewood.