and here I was bragging on him....

Ok, Bob, got a story from one of the final nights the summer of 1987.



It was one of the final couple nights that the camp was open, a clear night, thankfully, as rain would have spoiled the whole plan. I was a senior, and had volunteered for cabin watch that night, as all the staff, from both boys’ and girls’ camps were either at a gathering, or in the Chapel, cannot remember which. My shift at the flagpole was from 12:30 to 1 am. At 1, Ben (I don’t remember his last name) and I stealthily made our way along the woodline past the Handicraft and Playhouse buildings, and made our way toward the main road, heading between the pools so as not to be seen.



Heading along, we noticed several staff members making their way back up the road, towards us. So, we spotted the rows of concrete that used to support a water tower and lay down between them, hiding from the unsuspecting staff. If I remember correctly, Mike Strong and you, Bob, were among those to pass not ten feet from us. When the coast was clear, we made our way to the Girls’ senior cabin. Ben was my lookout while I crept to the window to see if any counselors were inside. To my relief, there were none. Heather (don’t remember her last name) and a couple others spotted me and came outside, surprised that we had pulled it off.



I could hardly believe that we weren’t seen, as there were so many that passed us by as we hid between the concrete rows. Not even the headlights of passing cars on us alerted anyone to our presence there.



Ok, here’s a fun one from the final summer the camp was open.



This was one of the days that the senior canoe trip was going on. As I had already been on 2 or 3 already that summer, I chose not to attend this trip. There were a couple other senior guys and a few senior girls who also didn’t go. The senior girls stayed in Wagner Lodge that session. So, I and the other guys who stayed behind decided to raid the girls in dangerous territory.



We started off just nonchalantly making our way down the road, acting normally, keeping a close eye out for any staff members. We made our way past the boys’ mess hall, down the road past the athletic field, and then past the Point of No Return. We had crossed the border into girls’ camp.



We were almost there when we saw a car coming up the road towards us, and not just any car. Mr. Morissey, the boys’ camp director, was at the wheel. He pulls up to us and comes to a stop. “Hey Matt, hey boys! How are you doing?” he asked. “Great, couldn’t be better.” We replied. “Have a good day!” he said to us as he drove off. My heart was beating with such a flurry, as I knew where we were should have meant a ticket home. (Now, Bob, I knew ahead of time that the Kay Morissey was going to be the new Chaplain & her husband would be the boys’ camp director; after all, she was my chorus teacher my freshman year at Alter High School. After she informed me of it, I did even more to get on her good side in preparations.)



We then proceeded unimpeded to the lodge and had a great time tickle-torturing the poor senior girls who were unfortunate to not have gone canoeing.



I will send you more tales of mischief later.





Matt