Author: Steve Sensibar
Date: 09-30-02 04:00
My brother, Jordy, just e-mailed me this site, and I have now spent three and half hours reading all the postings. Heck, it beats working! I don't know if any of you remember me. But, I remember...:
feeling so good when the bus turned into the gate, bumping along the road past the A-Field, and seeing the lake for the first time that summer;
struggling up to the HOH at night (via flashlight at first, but by the fifth week knowing every root by heart);
the buddy board with the little metal tags;
finally being able to swim out to the raft;
a long backpacking trip led by Brian Aubin, that ended at a resort in Trego(?), made even more challenging by Merc's map from 1934;
our Canadian where John Pritzker smeared limburger cheese on the motor of the bus so the smell nearly killed us (that still makes me laugh);
basketball with Karl;
the foreign counselors, especially
Mile Damjonovich, who never understood English when it involved work for him to do, and
Con McCarthy, the incredible English soccer player;
Frankie D assigning quadrant duty as punishment ("you keep f***ing up, and we'll name that quadrant after you!");
sand steak, sand soap, sand flies, sand everywhere;
blueberries in the woods;
how happy we were to see our parents come on parents weekend, and how equally happy we were to see them leave;
hamburger night; and
Bob Mercier, probably the best role model for integrity I ever knew.
Sure there's lots more, but it's your turn. I'm just glad that my wife, Julia, got to see it when we went to post camp back in the 80's. She can appreciate some of the memories, by at least knowing some of the dramatis personae and the locales. We live in England now with our two daughters (Ayla, 6, and Esme, 4). I can't say I miss Horseshoe, since I never think that it's gone. It lives on for me in every one of your stories.
Hail to the Forest (and stay the hell away from that damned tetherball!!).
Steve
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