Camp Zoe Memories
The Footlocker
Camp Zoe was a family tradition for me. My mother Judy Bader and my Aunt Dixie Bader blazed a trail to Zoe in the 1940's. Aunt Dixie enjoyed her time there, while Mom got sick and had to stay home at the last minute. My older (half) brother, Chris Edwards, renewed the tradition for our family in the late 1960s. His experience was cut short one summer when he fell down the hill behind the tennis courts and busted his leg. He came home on crutches.
My mom suggested I try Camp Zoe in 1975. I received encouraging words from my older brother and got a look at the yearbook they sent to our house. The sign-up packet included an index card that Mom returned with payment. Camp cost 100 bucks a week. (Ten years later the price was 225 dollars a week). The camp staff sent a list of suggested footlocker items. The list included the practical recommendations: swimming trunks and shower thongs, and some silly ones (costumes for skit night). I never saw one kid unveil a costume for skit night as long as I attended camp. Another return card asked personal questions. What were some of my hobbies and interests? What special skills did I possess? Was I allergic to bee stings or poison ivy? Was I on any medication or did I wet the bed?
The sign up packet included directions to camp and the date when the fun began. Every summer I looked forward to that day when I put my footlocker in our 1972 Chevrolet Kingswood station wagon and Dad and I took off. Camp started around June 20th for the campers. For counselors, the summer at Camp Zoe was much longer:
Only 4 more days till I go to camp. Kevin [Dodge] and I are going two weeks ahead of first session. The 1st week is a horse instructor's clinic and the 2nd week is counselor's work week...I'll be there for 10 weeks.
Lori Dodge, counselor, 1979.
People traveled long distances to get to camp. The first day was devoted to registration and getting acquainted. Camp always began on a Sunday. The first year I went to camp, it fell on father's day. I'd like to thank my Dad for driving me to summer camp for the first time on a day that was supposed to be reserved for him. It was a twelve hour round trip from Fairway to Round Spring, but Dad never complained. He offered to fill me in on the birds and the bees. I declined at first, but relented when he promised that the alternative was a group lecture for the cabin when we arrived at Zoe. The details were shocking, but I took notes on a napkin I saved from the wagon wheel drive-in in Sedalia, Missouri. That information proved handy in future summers.