100th post

"Just so you know, Maddie, you have a really dumb roommate."

"No, Mary, I have a roommate who makes very poor decisions."

advice from my brother

"Most importantly, the amount of things that you unnecessarily set on fire should increase as you grow older."

don't catch the rape virus

soul glimpses, or, scraps of paper

Sad day: I pretty much ran out of things to give away. Still too many boxes in my closet, though, so I'm going through them trying to throw away as much as possible. It's pretty much all paper--essays from high school, journals, stories I started to write, etc. Every now and then I come across a sentence or phrase that I wrote down and kept because I found it very beautiful. I think I kept them in case I wanted to use them in a novel. I always forget about them until next time I clean out my closet, and anyway I'll write new ones that are actually relevant to my novel when I write it. If I leave my words here, maybe I can finally throw these (worn, crumpled, ripped) pieces of paper away.

...Rosary beads sliding through my fingers like water droplets leaking out of a half-empty glass.
I cut this from an application essay to a college I didn't go to.

...who walks off the muddy football field with clean pants.
I still remember who I wrote this about. This was the kid nobody liked, who talked to me for about 30 minutes in the teacher's lounge and taught me patience. He was a good kid.

Being late can be okay. The second mouse gets the cheese.
Saw this on a church sign.

Ideas. They come to my mind from my ears or my eyes. They travel down my head down my neck through my arm to my hand. There, they travel through my pen onto paper.
I wrote this in yellow pen on a yellow sticky note (what was I thinking?) with line breaks making it looks lightly more poetic.

Other things I found while cleaning out:

• my drill book from freshman year marching band
• activity rotation schedule from Camp Copneconic, eighth grade
• small green plastic seal or porpoise or something
• cassette tape of our late dog, Nellie, singing
• late slip excusing me to go to Tony's grandma's funeral
• a shoebox with every trophy, plaque, letter, pin, etc. since seventh grade
• the all-purpose poetry anthology for HH9 English
• Fiddler on the Roof music from junior year in high school pit band
• Western and American Heritage supplementary readers
• a note about balloon pop polka
• a shoebox full of poetry--poetry I would dismiss as melodramatic teenage angst if I didn't remember so vividly what was going on and how much I hurt when I wrote it.
• my junior and cadette girl scout vests, both of which will probably be worth a lot of money in a few years since Fairwinds Council folded. I've got a lot a lot of patches on my junior vest. I think I'll give it a few years, then find the Mike Beratta of girl scouts and donate them.
• a plaster model of my late dog, Nellie
• a hairbrush my grandmother gave me when I turned 10
• my old 35mm point-and-shoot and a roll of undeveloped film with photos of the Wisconsin Dells
• my double-jointed swiss army knife
• my protest against the artificial Christmas tree

That's all for now, folks. I have 13 boxes on my floor and two on my bed that will be on my floor in a minute so I can sleep.

what i learned this summer

Mark 8:34: "...If any man will follow me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me."

Matthew 11:30: "My yolk is easy and my burden light."

Mother Teresa: "I know God wouldn't give me anything I can't handle. I just wish he wouldn't trust me so much."

If I can get my knees under a patrol box, I can lift it--anyway, lift my half of it if my mind is in the game, too--and carry it to the truck, but usually I'm not strong enough to hoist it up to the bed. Usually someone will come by and give me a hand; if not, I just leave it by the truck and go back for the next one.

Some guys can lift a whole patrol box by themselves and toss it in the bed of the truck. Most partner up, though, and have this crazy upper-body strength that allows them to slide it into the bed.

I wish I were as strong as they are, but the fact is, I'm not. If I tried to lift the patrol box into the truck, I would back up the entire crew, hurt myself badly, and not be able to help with anything else, even mattresses and cots.

If I pretend I am stronger than I am and don't ask for help when I need it, I hurt myself and the group. Every time I help move a patrol box, though, I get stronger, even if I didn't lift it into the truck. (Those things are heavy!)

The same is true for non-physical strength. If someone's walking all over you, chewing you out for things that aren't your fault, harrassing you, taking advantage of you, don't pretend you're stronger than you are.

If you choose to let someone be rude to you, then be meek and humble and let them. It will toughen you up and strengthen you for the next challenge.

But if you let them be rude to you because you are afraid to speak up, or if they've gotten control of your emotions, you are not strong enough to handle this. And if you aren't strong enough, have someone help you. Talk to someone, hug someone, get the problem solved. If you pretend you're stronger than you are and don't ask for help when you need it, you'll hurt yourself and the group.

homemade meals for cheap college students: goulash

Katie and I made goulash when she taught me how to camp-cook, so I tried it again when I was making dinner for myself. We decided the rather unappetizing name came from the sound it makes when you stir it all together.

1 16-oz box elbow macaroni - $1
1 green pepper - $.50
1 onion - usually get a bag of 8 for a couple bucks
2 cans diced tomatoes - $.60
16 oz ground hamburger

1. Boil enough water to cover the noodles. Remember that boiling water takes forever so start it early. When the water boils, put in the noodles. Make sure you keep stirring them or they'll get stuck to the bottom of the pan.

2. Brown the hamburger. When it's almost all the way cooked (still a little pink), throw in your vegetables. Green peppers and onions are great, but you can use whatever you have in your fridge.

3. When everything's cooked, drain the water from the noodles, drain the grease from the meat/vegetables, and throw it all together. Add the cans of diced tomatoes (juice and all) then mix it up with the lovely goulash sound.

4. This makes a lot of food so I hope you have friends or a really large refrigerator.

what I didn't say when I gave you a hug

Mostly it was goodbye and thank you, but the "thank you" seems so empty. How can I say it? I've learned, grown, laughed so much.

Camp does weird things to you, socially. We're a small group (too small) working crazy hard toward a common goal with a common enemy and still finding the energy for a game of after-hours ultimate. We live together, we sleep in the same quarters, we eat every meal across the table from each other, and just when you fall into a groove and figure out how things work with this group, bam! you go home and the group dissipates. Some of them you'll probably never see again. Some of them you create weirdly close friendships with and you'll stay in contact for quite some time. But you'll never get the whole group together, living and functioning with its own dynamic.

Unless you're lazy, we're all pulling for you. We've all got your back. I can go on crazy adventures (four-mile hike in lightning for a Christmas tree? getting lost in a swamp? slinking around a mental institution at twilight? shooting off fireworks? sleeping in homemade shelters? sailing?) and the whole time I know I am completely safe. Be tough, be strong, do something stupid but I got your back. If you need a boost up a tree or a hug when you fall, if your sparkplugs go bad, if you want to learn how to cook or start a fire or change your sparkplugs or juggle, if someone's inappropriately hitting on you, we got your back. I've got a whole crew fighting for me, and I'm fighting for them, too.

I love camp because I know I am safe, and once I know I am safe, I can take risks and go on adventures. I wouldn't swamp tromp with just anyone.

From Mike: "Mary, you know I feel about my girls here. If you get in their face, you're not coming back. I'll make sure the situation gets taken care of. Now come here, give me a hug and tell me how cool you are."

I learned some cool skills, like camp cooking, knife sharpening, wood splitting, spark plugging. I grew a back bone. I learned how to goof off and why it's important. I learned how to throw my whole heart into what I do. I learned that people wildly different are crazy fun and can love deeply.

I am a different person now than I was when the summer began.

I learned how to give. When you give, you can receive. When you pour out your love, you make room in your heart to receive love. Then love pours in and you overflow and hurry to pour more out, but more comes streaming in and the mad waters splash and everyone rejoices.

Last night I had a blast (that's a pun for those of you who were with us at firebowl), but morning came and I had hugs to distribute. Mostly I didn't talk, because I knew if I did I'd be a mess, and I don't like crying in front of people. Usually I can't.

"Mary, you leaving?"
No words; just a hug. Together silence.
"Hey, look, I have to go."
"No." Arms tighter.
"No, really, I have to get the toilets cleaned and pick up my paycheck."
"No."
Eye squeezing. Tears losing. Together silence.

My list of people to say goodbye to was getting shorter. I looked across the parade field and saw another friend walking toward me.

"Did I give everything back?" I asked him. I'd probably never see him again, and I wanted to make sure I returned everything of his.

He nodded. "Yes. I hope I gave something back, too."

Gave something back? We work at Camp Tapico. That's just what we do.