Monday, September 7, 2015

When I was stainless steel wire mesh

When I was stainless steel wire mesh, I went to sleep-away camp. This was no pack-her-up-and-send-her-off plan hatched by my parents; this was all me. Having spotted the tiny ad in the back of The New York Times Magazine, I sent away for the brochure, which I devoured. Pages upon pages of photos of happy young girls nuzzling their horses in the barn or flying over a hedgerow jump. Other shots of girls sharing a laugh in their Shawn Cassidy poster-clad bunk, pulling back their archery bows or teeing up on the camp’s 9-hole golf stainless steel wire mesh course. They wore uniforms — gray sailor shorts and shirts for day, and navy shorts and over-starched white blouses for dinner and Sundays — with red knotted ties draping their necks. This was where perfect girls spent their summers, and I yearned to be one of them.

Teela Wooket smelled of pine needles and grass and, of course, manure, which, to this day, is an aroma I love as much as gasoline. I can still smell the stainless steel wire mesh cedar cabins, too, which dotted the Vermont mountainside. Along with the golf course, rifle range and man-made lake, there were — of course — riding rings and a wondrous amphitheater, with moss-covered rows of rock-formed seats in a seemingly naturally-formed semi-circle. The dining hall was an enormous rustic structure, with beamed ceilings and creaky floors and screened doors that slammed right behind you. After dinner, we’d link our arms together and sing “Let’s Go Fly a Kite,” swinging back and forth as we belted out the song. I also learned table manners in that dining hall: “Mabel, Mabel, young and able, keep your elbows off the table,” which I’ve been known to recite stainless steel wire mesh every now.

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