Camp Zoe Memories
Girls, Girls, Girls
Many campers (and some counselors) realized for the first time they were attractive to members of the opposite sex at Camp Zoe. The owners did not encourage this epiphany. They did their best to run a "G-rated" camp. I sympathize with their efforts to keep everyone's libido in check. When I was a camper with raging hormones, I plotted and schemed to break the "no fraternization" rule at every opportunity.
even an average schmuck like me was considered "bacon" by some of the girls in camp. There were few eligible guys to choose from. When I was ten, I was adopted by a sixteen year old "older woman". She was a C.I.T. who thought I was a cute kid. She was real sweet to me and I developed a mad crush on her. She had a "real" romantic interest (another C.I.T.), but puppy love was blind and I thought she liked me best.
She worked in New Cabin. One night that summer, my cabin and New Cabin went on a group overnight to the old schoolhouse. Debbie held my hand as we hiked through the woods. The other guys in my cabin thought it was pretty funny. I got a lot of crap for that but I knew they were jealous. In the morning she woke me up with a kiss on the forehead. I was in heaven. Little did I know that after I had fallen asleep the previous night she was holding hands with her real flame (who had been assigned to us).
I was disappointed when she danced the last song with her real beau at the final dance. It was a bummer, but I was still two years away from puberty and it didn't bug me for long. The next day my father arrived from Kansas City to collect me. At the last minute I told him to wait while I said goodbye to someone. She was working on kitchen patrol and I ran down to the mess hall to say goodbye. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the lips. Wow! In retrospect it was all very innocent, but it was hot passion in my mind. The six hour car ride home flew by as I lounged in the afterglow of her goodbye smooch. Technically, I don't count this as my first kiss; merely a peck done as a salutation, by a girl who thought I was a cute kid.
I wrote her a letter when I got home and she wrote me back, but not right away. My second letter went unanswered. I felt jilted. When my yearbook arrived with the next sign-up packet the following spring, I told my mother I didn't want to go back. I didn't tell her the reason was because of my failed romance. I felt awkward about the prospect of seeing her. Would my friends remember and tease me again?. It was very big drama in my ten year-old mind.
Mom didn't press me for a reason. She threw the renewal in the trash and that was the end of it. The camp staff persisted. They sent another yearbook and sign-up packet to my house several weeks later. "Perhaps your information was lost in the mail", a note said. Once again my mother asked me if I wanted to return to Zoe. This time I said yes. It was the best decision I ever made. As it turned out, Debbie didn't return in 1976. I never saw her again and my friends forgot the whole thing.
I met Mary Gorman that summer. Mary bore a striking resemblance to Cheryl Tiegs. Our relationship carried over into the summer of 1977. We kissed for the first time on the lodge steps that year and it was a special moment in my personal history of romance. In 1978, she gave me the "lets be friends" speech. We went "steady" for a short time but we remain friends to this day.
There were several make-out areas around camp. I imagined one was counselor's hole, the shack on the outskirts of camp where counselors went to get away from the kids. (I haven't heard from any counselors who carried on there). We campers got creative. We infiltrated the nooks and crannies of the archery field and tennis courts under the cover of darkness for stolen kisses. I wasn't old enough for anything past first base. By 1979 I swung a heavier bat and plugged the gap for a double every once in a while.
1978 was a watershed year for fraternization and a couple of events stand out. The new shelter was double tiered and a homemade weight lifting apparatus was stationed in one corner on the edge of the upper tier. When one stood behind it on the lower level, no one could see you. By a stroke of luck, someone put old army surplus mattresses behind that weight box. (I think they were for gymnastics) This little place was by no means private, but it was hidden in plain sight. When the sun went down, the snack shack opened and people congregated in the light of the new shelter with their slushes and candy bars. Meanwhile, Stu Hanna and I and some of the older girls reclined on the mats behind the weight box. There was tickling, wrestling, and an occasional grope. We played pass the dime. In retrospect, it was pretty harmless, but at the time it was very exciting. Our wrestling pit was enhanced later that week when Stu broke one of the light bulbs with a basketball. Whoops! Our end of the shelter was dark. When we returned to Tent cabin, Stu and I basked in the realization that we had our hands all over three or four gorgeous older women. It was the 13 year-old equivalent of a swingin' Shanghai weekend.
Feelings surfaced later that session. The final campfire ceremony was cut short by heavy rain and lightning. Everyone ran for cover. Camp management assumed that we retired for the evening. There wasn't a light on in the entire camp. This was our last chance at a big goodbye. My counselor looked the other way as Stu and I hit the new shelter after taps in the pouring rain for some last night good-byes with the girls who made our summer special. I smooched with a girl for a while, and then I kissed somebody else. It seemed very romantic and exciting. To kiss a girl was a big deal in 7th or 8th grade. To French kiss five or six girls in one night was a totally fantastic experience. Come to think of it, I haven't kissed that many girls in one night since that rainy July night in 1978. It was the best last night at camp there ever was.
The net effect for me was confidence. It carried over in my life back in the city. Even when I met with rejection at the hands of some young, local girl, I took solace in the fact that there were beautiful girls at camp who thought I was okay. That may seem stupid, but it helped an awkward 14 year-old through some rough spots.
All this hanky panky was bad news in the eyes of the camp directors. Stern penalties were promised if a couple was caught in each other's arms. I was a brave 14 year-old in the summer of '79, and my girlfriend that year was a C.I.T. We carried on in the usual secret fashion, but it was obvious we were sweet on each other. When word got back to the owners that we stayed up half the night smooching and amusing each other during a Current River float trip, she got kicked out (AKA the number nine). Her dad came down from Chicago and picked her up. I incurred no penalties as a paying customer, but the message came through. I decided to keep my hands to myself, and was voted "best boy camper" for the first session the following summer.