I had just finished answering one of the unknown IDs when I set my pencil down on the desk and look over my test to make sure I had answered all of the IDs. I left the words I had never seen before blank, hoping I would come up with something at least intellectual to write for the answer. Just maybe if I give an answer that makes some sense he will give me some credit. Johnny Sassamon. I must have been in one of my daydreams when my professor was going over what this Johnny Sassamon person was.
All of the IDs have been identified and I walk up to my professor and give him my lengthwise folded test.
"Thank you." he says in his deep voice.
I walk back to my desk and pick up my light green bag with my pencils and ACT card in it and head out the door. I walk down the old blue hall and turn right to head toward the exit. Relief feels my body as I realized that I don't have to worry about class on Monday. I have to take some books I had checked out from Gorgas library for this class and then I can head home and officially be out for the summer.
***
The phone rings in my ear as I patiently wait for my mom to answer her cell phone.
"Hello" she answers.
"Hey mom." I say lovingly.
Mom and Dad had planned on going to girls camp because mom has to speak. Our church had been building a camp up in northern Alabama and I hadn't been there before. I didn't feel like the usual sitting at home, watching television while my dog scratches his fleas so I had asked them the night before if I could tag along. Mom had told me they were spending the night in Birmingham and then on Saturday going to a goat festival in Talladega. I worried about my dog getting out of my backyard so I told them to go ahead without me.
"Are ya'll coming to Tuscaloosa?" I said in the phone. I had changed my mind and wanted to go. I hear my mom tell my dad I had changed my mind and ask him when they would plan on getting to Tuscaloosa.
"Dad says we will be there around 2 or 2:30." she said.
"Hello" she answers.
"Hey mom." I say lovingly.
Mom and Dad had planned on going to girls camp because mom has to speak. Our church had been building a camp up in northern Alabama and I hadn't been there before. I didn't feel like the usual sitting at home, watching television while my dog scratches his fleas so I had asked them the night before if I could tag along. Mom had told me they were spending the night in Birmingham and then on Saturday going to a goat festival in Talladega. I worried about my dog getting out of my backyard so I told them to go ahead without me.
"Are ya'll coming to Tuscaloosa?" I said in the phone. I had changed my mind and wanted to go. I hear my mom tell my dad I had changed my mind and ask him when they would plan on getting to Tuscaloosa.
"Dad says we will be there around 2 or 2:30." she said.
***
I get out of the red Dodge Impala and stand by the car to wait for mom and Dad to get out. I look around at the newly built pavillion and see a mixture of girls and women chattering away. I stretch my legs to get the stiffness out from the 2 and a half hour drive. Not much grass is on the ground around the cabins seeing as they are still in the process of building the camp and because of the drought Alabama is presently going through. I sit on the hood of the car as Dad says, "Let's go up there and see if we know anybody." Mom looks over and sees women that she has meet during her calling as Montgomery Relief Society Stake Presidet. She walks over and begins her hellos and how are yous in between hugs.
I hear "How are you Bev?" I look over to see a familiar women in her thirties with blonde frizzy hair that shows it has not been able to receive the attention that it has prior to the last couple of days. She is tall and skinny and looks dressed as though she has been up to date on the latest teen fashion. She is wearing a t-shirt and shorts that go to her knees. Somehow, if gone back a couple of generations I am related to her husband. Her mother-in-law is my grandmother's cousin. Her in-laws went to the same church as me when I was growing up. Her mother-in-law was a grandmother figure for me because my father's mother had passed away when I was in the second grade.
I answered with a smile and, "Good. How are you?" She answers with good and walks off to tend to her duties as a leader.
I look over and see a counselor of the YW presidency that always was at camp with me.
"How are you?" she says reaching out to give me a hug.
Her black African America hair is curly and has a tint of grey around her hair line. She looks like she has been camping for the several days in which she has.
"Good, How are you Sister Stovall?" I reply, happy to see her.
"You should have been here this week. We have had a beautiful week. Every night has been so cool and wonderful."
I laugh a little at the thought of having to "rough it" during my couple years of going through the same camp as the girls here now. I always had butterflies in my stomach during the drive up to where our camp leaders had decided we should camp for the next couple of days. I don't know why because during the next couple of days I always enjoyed the friendship and the bonds that formed between me and the girls in my group level. Every time we left I felt a longing to still be with the girls I had recently been able to call my friends and not wanting to leave. I always had mixed feelings on leaving because I also wanted to get back home to "civilization." Memories of staying up late with leaders and other girls in my group rush through my head. One year our camp director had invited us JCs, older girls, to play cards with her and other adult leaders. Being someone that is very competitive, I decided to sit back to watch and not ruin the good reputation I had with them. I sat there and watched as the leaders bring up memories from years before of friendship between them. They laugh as they tell stories of playing pranks on each other to relieve the stress of having to deal with fifty or sixty wining girls. My cousin went for several years as a leader and it was fun watching her mingle with the women she had grown to love in friendship.
I walk over to where my mother is mingling and notice another leader who had been with me at camp. I always loved coming to camp and listening to her strong British accent. Now, since she has been living in the south for several years, she has a touch of southern dialect. She and another sister who also was from England served as the craft ladies for a couple of years. They always had interesting crafts for us campers to do during our free time.
She and other leaders begin telling about their week and having to share with another group of campers. The ropes course that has been built and available to the girls during the week has been brought up and Sister Stovall offers to give us a tour of the camp, seeing as mom and I haven't seen it yet. The four of us, Mom, Dad, Sister Stovall, and I begin to walk on a rocky road up a hill. We get added information about the weeks events from Sister Stovall and how she loved the ropes course and zip line. I look up when reaching the top and see tall telephone poles supporting series of tires set up for walking on. Opposite the tires are pieces of wood that have been attached to bright yellow ropes also designed for walking. They both look obvious to have faith to not fall while walking on them. I look to my left to find the zip line. It's a long cable running from a supported platform extending off from the ropes course. The cable goes on for several feet and then ends at another wooden platform. Sister Stovall begins to tell of her experience of excitement as she gains momentum and then comes to an abrupt stop while her body still swung and then also coming to a stop. I would love to do it now, but back then during my girls camp I would not have even thought about trying. I think to myself as we begin to make our way down the hill to continue our tour of Camp Hulaco.
I hear "How are you Bev?" I look over to see a familiar women in her thirties with blonde frizzy hair that shows it has not been able to receive the attention that it has prior to the last couple of days. She is tall and skinny and looks dressed as though she has been up to date on the latest teen fashion. She is wearing a t-shirt and shorts that go to her knees. Somehow, if gone back a couple of generations I am related to her husband. Her mother-in-law is my grandmother's cousin. Her in-laws went to the same church as me when I was growing up. Her mother-in-law was a grandmother figure for me because my father's mother had passed away when I was in the second grade.
I answered with a smile and, "Good. How are you?" She answers with good and walks off to tend to her duties as a leader.
I look over and see a counselor of the YW presidency that always was at camp with me.
"How are you?" she says reaching out to give me a hug.
Her black African America hair is curly and has a tint of grey around her hair line. She looks like she has been camping for the several days in which she has.
"Good, How are you Sister Stovall?" I reply, happy to see her.
"You should have been here this week. We have had a beautiful week. Every night has been so cool and wonderful."
I laugh a little at the thought of having to "rough it" during my couple years of going through the same camp as the girls here now. I always had butterflies in my stomach during the drive up to where our camp leaders had decided we should camp for the next couple of days. I don't know why because during the next couple of days I always enjoyed the friendship and the bonds that formed between me and the girls in my group level. Every time we left I felt a longing to still be with the girls I had recently been able to call my friends and not wanting to leave. I always had mixed feelings on leaving because I also wanted to get back home to "civilization." Memories of staying up late with leaders and other girls in my group rush through my head. One year our camp director had invited us JCs, older girls, to play cards with her and other adult leaders. Being someone that is very competitive, I decided to sit back to watch and not ruin the good reputation I had with them. I sat there and watched as the leaders bring up memories from years before of friendship between them. They laugh as they tell stories of playing pranks on each other to relieve the stress of having to deal with fifty or sixty wining girls. My cousin went for several years as a leader and it was fun watching her mingle with the women she had grown to love in friendship.
I walk over to where my mother is mingling and notice another leader who had been with me at camp. I always loved coming to camp and listening to her strong British accent. Now, since she has been living in the south for several years, she has a touch of southern dialect. She and another sister who also was from England served as the craft ladies for a couple of years. They always had interesting crafts for us campers to do during our free time.
She and other leaders begin telling about their week and having to share with another group of campers. The ropes course that has been built and available to the girls during the week has been brought up and Sister Stovall offers to give us a tour of the camp, seeing as mom and I haven't seen it yet. The four of us, Mom, Dad, Sister Stovall, and I begin to walk on a rocky road up a hill. We get added information about the weeks events from Sister Stovall and how she loved the ropes course and zip line. I look up when reaching the top and see tall telephone poles supporting series of tires set up for walking on. Opposite the tires are pieces of wood that have been attached to bright yellow ropes also designed for walking. They both look obvious to have faith to not fall while walking on them. I look to my left to find the zip line. It's a long cable running from a supported platform extending off from the ropes course. The cable goes on for several feet and then ends at another wooden platform. Sister Stovall begins to tell of her experience of excitement as she gains momentum and then comes to an abrupt stop while her body still swung and then also coming to a stop. I would love to do it now, but back then during my girls camp I would not have even thought about trying. I think to myself as we begin to make our way down the hill to continue our tour of Camp Hulaco.
***
The girls have gathered for dinner and I sit there looking to see if I know any of them. I don't recognize the younger girls but do see older ones that were first levels during my years of camp. I begin to feel very old because two of the girls, of whom are daughters of the blonde women seen before, used to be little babies while I was growing up. I remember their mother carrying them around on her hip during church in Magnolia and during the camp where she was YW President. I look over and see the daughter of my British leader. She looks just like her older sister. I begin to think how old I am and excitement because I remember I graduate from college in December of this year.
