Final Thoughts

As camp ends, things tend toward their natural extremes and the counselors begin adopting the surreal rather heavily. Temperatures during the day reach three digits and at night drop to below freezing. The best campers pass final levels at their activities. The worse ones break drinking glasses during meals and teach the director's children to swear.

On the last night a storm hits around one-thirty and the two of us jump in the lake and learn to breathe underwater. Above us sailboats break from their moorings and the water's surface becomes choppy and loud, but, here on the lake's floor, things are still. We squelch our toes into the muck and hold hands. A fish swims by.

I thought the songleaders this year were pretty okay, I say.
Yes, you say.

A bolt of lightning strikes the tall pine behind bunk four, and we can make out the screams of terrified children.

I say, would it make you uncomfortable if I said I am going to miss you considerably?
You say, no, I guess not.
I say, well.