Summers of youth building a relationship apparently one-sided

When I was growing up, I spent about two months of each summer at Mountain Lake Camp in Fannettsburg, Pa.

I was 9 years old my first summer. That made me a Raven right off the bat.

Boys were organized into four cabins. The youngest were Cardinals, then Ravens, Hawks and the older boys were Eagles.

Girls had four designations as well. Larks, Swallows, Doves and Wrens.

The boys and girls cabins each had their own activities. There was swimming in a pool and in the lake. There was archery, riflery, tennis, basketball, croquet, horseshoes, canoeing and more.

At arts and crafts I learned how to make lanyards, moccasins and pottery.

I learned how to ride horses bareback. And how to jump. The horse I rode the last few years was named Tuffy. His mane was trimmed like a crew cut. Tuffy was a toughy and required a strong hand. We got along just fine.

Many afternoons we would take the canoes across the lake to an area called Turtle Island. The water in this area was clogged with weeds. It was the home of painted water turtles. We would capture these by hand through quiet stealth. Most were released, a few became pets.

Every night after dinner there were one or two special activities. Sometimes we would play capture the flag or baseball, and then get together for singing and games around a roaring campfire. Sunday nights brought movies in the lodge. Other nights we might take a long hike to and from an ice cream shop located several miles from the camp. On hikes, we would all carry a canteen with Fizzie water.

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Fizzies were a tablet like Alka-Seltzer, except Fizzies flavored and sweetened the water but had no other benefit. Fizzies came in cherry, grape, orange, berry, lemon-lime, punch and root beer flavors. Eight tablets cost 19 cents.

And then there were girls. We got to see them at meal time, swimming, campfires and dances. Friday night one week and Saturday night the next week were the dances. They were the reason we kept our cabins clean.

Every morning after breakfast, each cabin was inspected. We had to stand at attention at the foot of our cots while the counselors inspected our cabin. There could be no dust balls, dirt, dead flies (from swatting them with the fly swatter), dirty clothes, soiled towels or other misplaced items visible in the cabin. Swimsuits and wet towels had to be hung outside on the clothesline. Beds had to be made with perfect square corners so that a quarter dropped on the bed would bounce and flip over. Each morning one cabin would win inspection. Then the cabin with the most wins for the week was treated to an ice cream at the dance while the losing cabins watched with envy.

We showered (and shaved, when I got a bit older) and put on our cleanest shirts and slacks for the dance. The girls wore dresses. The music was 1950s.

That’s where I fell in love for the first time. And the second time. And the third time. In fact each summer. Scottie, Barbara, Sue and others. And after the dance, the boys talked about this girl or that and how she held his hand a little tighter. I remember how the girls all smelled heavenly, like Dial soap. It was the age of innocence.

Scottie was a nice girl. She attended a private school in Lancaster. Her dad was a doctor. She had some siblings who also spent summers at Mountain Lake Camp.

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I liked one girl or another, but I always liked Scottie. In fact for the seven summers that we were at camp, we would say “hi” when we could, see each other at dances, get ice cream on some Sundays when parents came to visit, and were pen pals during the 10 months each year that we were not in camp. In fact, I carved her name and mine with a heart around it in the wooden riflery stand.

One Christmas when Scottie and I were about 12 years old, I gathered some money that I saved out of my allowance and bought Scottie a little necklace. I mailed it to her. It came back with a note from Scottie thanking me, but saying her dad thought she was too young to accept a present from a boy. I was devastated. It was a different time.

When we were both 15 and stopped going to camp, I lost contact with Scottie. We were no longer pen pals. We graduated from high school. Attended different colleges. Married different people. Had families. And careers. Lost track of one another.

Then a while ago, I was reminiscing with my wife, Maxine, about Mountain Lake Camp. I talked about my friends and how I wondered whatever happened to them. She encouraged me to see if I could locate any of them.

So I began my internet research. I looked for Robbie, Leif, Eric, Jim, Billy, Yogi, Jay, Malcolm, Lefty, Butch and the crew. I also looked for Scottie, Barbara and Sue. Robbie had passed away. And of the remainder the only name I could find was that of Scottie.

I saw that she had married a very successful and retired CEO of an internationally recognized company. She had grown children, all middle-aged. I discovered a picture on the internet of Scottie at her golf club.

I told my wife, and she encouraged me to contact Scottie to refresh a childhood friendship. So with my wife’s blessing and encouragement, I sent Scottie an email.

I mentioned to Scottie what I remembered about Mountain Lake Camp, getting ice cream together, dancing in the lodge and so many childhood memories. I mentioned that we had been pen pals for seven years.

Scottie responded by email. She said she was sorry, but she did not remember me, and who was I again?

I told my wife, and she told me that apparently I never did make much of an impression with women, starting at a very early age.

Bill Gindlesperger is a central Pennsylvanian, Dickinson College graduate, Pennsylvania System Of Higher Education (PASSHE) Governor, Shippensburg University Trustee, and Chairman of eLynxx Solutions. eLynxx software coordinates and drives communication, specifying, approval, procurement or production, reporting and activities necessary to obtaining direct mail, marketing materials, promo and all other printing. He is a board member, campaign advisor, successful entrepreneur, published author and commentator. He can be reached at [email protected].

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