Mary at Murray

Every summer from fourth grade to twelfth grade, for one week, I would sweat my face off in the name of the Virgin Mary.

It was also known as Catholic Summer Camp at Lake Murray, where the cabins were made of armadillo shells and scorpions, and you only paid $100 to be there for seven days.

A lot of my friends liked going to "Kannukuk". Just because they had water rides, hot air balloons, and formal dances. I would take a sweatstache and a 'smore any day over that elite nonsense.

Our days would begin at approximately 6am, when the good kids would go to morning prayer. Most of us bad kids stayed asleep until it was time to eat breakfast, which was around 7am. We would all stand in a circle and sing songs about Jesus to the tunes of our favorite TV show theme songs.

(Sing this to the tune of "Meet the Flinstones)

GOD IS
GREAT GOD IS
GOOD LET US THANK HIM FOR OUR FOOD
GOD IS
GREAT GOD IS
GOOD LET US THANK HIM FOR OUR
WE THANK HIM FOR OUR
WE THANK HIM FOR OUR FOOD

Then the attractive male counselor in charge would pick who got to go first based on which female high-school camper was the hottest. Then she would start the line and we would all walk through and get something horrible to eat.

That's one of the things that was so great about camp once I turned 13 or so. I would drop a good 15 pounds the week of camp from all the exercise, sweat, prayer, and lack of food.

One year, whenever I was 8, they accidentally gave my table a jug of bleach water. I took a big chug then spewed all over the table. I was extra skinny in my koala-bear bikini that year.

After breakfast we would walk about a mile in 116 degree heat to a pavilion where we would have another morning prayer. Usually the counselors would do a skit of some sort. They were excellent at getting everyone involved who was in it for the faith, but also getting those of us who were there for the boys and tan up on our feet as well. This morning prayer was followed by some sort of quiet reflection at the end, when I would sit there and think about which counselor I would try to get in trouble by sitting on his lap.

We had morning activities, which were EXACTLY the same from 1990-2001. Your choices were fishing, canoe, arts and crafts, hiking, or four square. Let's break these down:

Fishing: you had to bring your own pole. And, they provided no bait. We would catch grasshoppers in the field and spear them onto our hooks. Then we would toss them into the water, and spend the rest of the time trying to get as naked as possible to get the most attention from male counselors. (they were in high school, I don't want you readers to think they were middle-aged janitors from the church or something)

Canoeing: Most safety-unconscious canoes in the history of water-activities. If there were some sort of safety regulations for camps, they would have burned our camp creator on a cross while poking them with a stick after inspecting/smelling our canoes. I think we made them with popsicle sticks from the arts and crafts table.

Arts and Crafts: Popsicle sticks, buttons, and glue. Do what you do. Get at it.

Hiking: Here's a fun idea. This is the one activity that does not involve water or shade. Nobody ever picked it, unless it was me, the hiking instructor was a male counselor, and we were going to be alone. Then I'd tough it out.

Four Square: We took this seriously. I cried a lot.

After our morning activities we would have free swim. But first we would have to pass a swimming test. This involved jumping off the dock and swimming to the most attractive male counselor you could find, treading water while talking about inappropriate things and swimming back. Once you passed the test you got to participate in free swim.

We were allowed to wear the skimpiest bikinis we wanted. There would always be one guy counselor who would have a throwing station. Throwing us involved aligning my hot 15 year-old body over his hand in the water, and him pushing me out by the ass into the air. Sometimes, they would have "hand check" which seemed a little ridiculous to me. Nobody was interested in where our hands were when we congregated outside of the showers each evening and gave each other intense, pg-13 back rubs. There's a lot those crazy kids could do while still waving their hands out the water.

We would have lunch, another choice of activities, another mile walk back to the pavilion for afternoon prayer, then an evening activity.

They were my FAVORITE. We had scavenger hunts, played capture the flag, had a talent show, and on the last night had a dance. (Where not a christian song could be found, we seriously listened to the Nelly album one year). I loved scavenger hunts because they involved boys and being alone in the dark. I loved capture the flag because it involved boys tackling me. I loved the talent show because I am a SHOW OFF. and I loved the dance because we took. that. shit. seriously.

We all looked like pound puppies all week. But on the day of the dance we almost didn't speak to each other because we were all busy trying to catch our man with what we "really" looked like. Except, I didn't "really" wear backless shirts and lip liner with no lipstick. That was all for those hot little alter boys.  We would dance all night. Then, we would go to confession. Then we would all cry in the mess hall after confession and eat brownies and ice cream.

The most intense part of the week was the "list". I promise you, I am not just getting this from a made-for-tv Disney movie about overcoming obstacles and being yourself. This actually happened. Every single year.

All the girls, including the counselors and staff, would get together and make a list of the top ten hottest guys at the camp. The boys would do the same for the girls. This list would be a mixture of campers and counselors. I remember one year they gave a girl an honorary number eleven for being really funny. I would have probably crucified myself. I saw people's lives destroyed from this list. I once tried to spread a rumor about a girl at the top of the list that she was actually 17, not 14. I don't know why I thought this was such a cruel thing. It didn't really take off on the rumor mill and then I had to miss watermelon to confess about it the next day.

I learned a lot at church camp. I learned how to throw a water balloon with a christian aim. I learned how to get stung by a wasp. I learned when my kids go to church camp so I can have a week of peace and loud relations with my husband, to send sunscreen and morals.