So, about Happy Camp

Moving in 3rd grade to a small town with only 25 kids in your class is tricky at best! You will either be exciting and therefore very popular or you will be normal and average and blend. Or, there is one other possibility. You will be an insecure scrawny tender hearted geekish kid that the other kids quickly assess as an easy target and once blood is sniffed lookout for the ravishing wolves in children's clothing. Some of my worst memories (check - nightmares) exist due to the next few grueling years. But, those years for sure contribute to who I am today so I - am - glad - for - the - experiences??!

I saw my first dead body a year after I moved there. Billy and Johnny Arnold (Billy my age and Johnny just older) invited most of us kids to play night games and stay the night. They lived by the Klamath river. I was actually invited! I desperately wanted to go. My mom wouldn't let me. I was seething and pouting at her answer. Didn't she understand? Long story short. The kids liked to dig into the wet sandy banks of the river and make tunnels. Truth be known, they would look at naughty magazines and sneak puffs on a cigarette one of the boys stole from their dad. Johnny and Billy came up missing. No one could find them. The entire town was alerted and searched the banks of the river for miles. The fear was that they had fallen into the river. After hours of searching they were finally found in one of the tunnels that had collapsed in on them. I attended their funeral, open casket. I struggled with the thought of going up and looking. As I sat there with the doors of the building open to allow air flow I looked out the open door into the sky. There was a lone puffy white cloud in an otherwise beautiful blue sky. I was sure that they were sitting in that cloud waiting for their funeral to end. That gave me a strange comfort and confidence. I made my way to the small caskets. The figures resembled the boys I had known but looked strange, waxy to be precise. I had heard all kinds of horrors about what happens to dead bodies before burial (probably from my older brothers). I was scared speechless at the thought of "stickers" holding their eyelids shut so they wouldn't pop open during their funeral! I remember the entire experience being in a strange slow motion numbness. I do vividly recall the beautiful puffy cloud singly floating across the sky taking my friends to Heaven. That gave me peace then and even now.

From 4th to 6th grade I had too many experiences to list. But, I will touch on some of the more vivid and some that had impact. Kathy Buhr, a little Indian girl my age, hit me at recess and bloodied my nose. I think she liked me? Rusty, Mouse, Ronnie, Lance and Ritchie teased me about it for years. The aforementioned boys "friends" allowed me to play touch football with them. I guess there were unique rules that they were kind enough to teach me as we played. You see, if you played in the position that I was assigned then it was necessary to tackle. I wasn't enjoying the game all that much anyway but they decided that they wanted me to leave. So, to get the point across they thought it would be a good idea to de-pants me, underwear and all. It was only a block to run home to safety (and new clothing) but that was the longest yet fastest sprint I have ever run. During recess we either played german dodgeball or basketball. I hated dodgeball because I was an easy and favorite target. I hated basketball because each kid would be selected, even the couple of girls that wanted to play (Kathy) and then I would be told "you are on their team".

More about Happy Camp later...