my parents were active participants on many levels, but my earliest memory was that my dad ran the main dining hall. as a kid, i would go in the backdoor into the kitchen to observe people baking, frying, cutting cake, preparing various jello combos... getting ready for the next meal. rev. leonard was cooking away, mrs. flack and mrs pusey worked on the salads, various teens were preparing the food lines, and i made my rounds talking to them, listening to them, and enjoying the attention, especially of the teenagers. then the doors were open and people joined one of two lines to choose their food cafeteria style. i would stand behind the line servers, watching the people go by and waving at/ flirting with the people i knew. this was one of several experiences that taught me that what goes on behind the scenes are valuable, useful, and quite fascinating. doing service does not always come with gratitude, but it does bring a sense of pride and joy.
boys camp was both a wonderful time and a big challenge. i loved making crafts, singing silly songs led by martha vogel and rev. marsh, and listening to the speaker for the week. i abhorred the sports, however, mostly because i didn't do well. baseball was the main sport, and i sucked as confirmed by being relegated to the nether regions of left field. with my incompetence came jabs from my dorm mates, calling me sissy. after all, even at an early age, boys seem to crave the opportunity to distinguished the 'real' men from the 'fake' ones. rather than fighting back, i would play myself into the role. at night when i was called sissy, i would lay in bed, kicking my legs up and down to turn the name-calling into laughter. my ploy was clever and it worked. after all, when boys can't get under your skin, they tend to move on to more vulnerable victims. i learned that fighting back with my brain and sense of humor was the most effective tools i had. and i used them well. i determined to have fun in spite of the taunting. after all, it was boys' camp!!
teen camp was among other things, one big hormonal festival. guys and gals would begin on monday, sizing up each other and gathering the courage to ask someone out. even more tense was determining the right outfit, figuring out how/when to hold hands, find a shadowed spot between the cabins to steal a kiss, and learning how to hold a decent conversation. as was always the case in these situations, i tried my best to act the part. knowing i was much more attracted to the guys, i had to develop a keen sense of observation to determine how to act interested in the girls. what i had going for me was a natural way of making female friends, of which i had plenty. but taking it to a romantic attraction didn't happen, so my romantic 'moves' were mechanical and well-rehearsed in my mind. more spontaneous was my ability to relate to women, speaking their language and understanding to a significant degree their point of view. for that i am grateful.
at 14 years old, i was a counselor for boys' camp. my duties were to lead, direct, and hold accountable a group of ten 4th, 5th, and 6th graders. i relished the challenge being like a big brother to them. my lack of sporting skill was irrelevant because they knew how to play. a daily contest held by the camp nurses pitted cabin against cabin for the cleanest room and the most creative room decorations. those boys were guinea pigs in a young teen's experiment with the challenges of learning to balance fun with setting boundaries for acceptable behavior. thanks to them! the camp counselor experience was significant in my decision to become an elementary school teacher. and for the most part, i enjoyed that profession and did a fine job at it.
one week at junior high camp, however, stands out in my mind above all other camp weeks. honestly, it was a nightmare. the week started out just fine until rumors about me being gay were circulating. perhaps i gave away some part of my secret due to the fear on my face when i heard the rumors. i heard the words 'sissy' and 'girl' rather than 'steve' from a group of fellow campers who were out to find a scapegoat. they succeeded in their desire to intimidate me, but thankfully, they had more interest in pursuing their own athletic and romantic opportunities... except for two of them. they made a game out of sneaking up on me, chasing me, and threatening me with a swirly as punishment for being sissified. i spent the majority of the week terrorized by the act of two guys holding me upside-down, sticking my head in a toilet, and flushing it to make my hair swirl like the top of a dairy queen ice cream cone. eventually they suceeding in spite of my screams for help. they quickly left the bathroom, leaving me wet, smelly, and humiliated. from this experience, i formulated a defense that helped me through the rest of my growing up years.
- first, i decided to excel in music. thanks to a teacher who understood me, my ability to play the piano flourished.
- second, i surrounded myself with people who would not try to hurt me. i showered attention on the old folks at church, i involved myself in the youth group, and i continued to make friends mostly with girls.
- third, i made the decision to view guys, particularly at school, as the enemy. i made very little effort to make friends. it just wasn't worth the risk. at school, i was a loner... just the way i wanted.
- fourth, i faked it. i dated girls. i held hands with them at church. i tried my best to have a girlfriend most of the time. i am not sure how much i fooled other people, but believing i succeeded was good enough for me.
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