I love camp. I'm not talking about John Waters and Mommie Dearest — I'm talking about s'mores and fires and knots and lanyards and not taking showers and stuff.
I went to Camp Nebagamon in Lake Nebagamon, Wisconsin (way up north) from 1978-1983 (yeah that was a long time ago), and I have returned for the first time to spend a couple days reconnecting with my camp family. I flew into Duluth yesterday with a group of servicemen returning to their families after two years in Iraq and witnessed some Ramotional reunions (a different, more heroic reunion than you find on Bravo) for returning heroes. Lots of tears and applause.
So now I am here and first period is about to start. I'm heading to riflery, where I was an NRA certified expert in my day. In four positions. Mm-hmm. A very versatile kid, I was. Later today the best sailor in camp is taking me out for a sail around the lake. His name is Andy Cohen and he's from St. Louis, and he's a gingey. Is that wild, or what???
OK, it's time to do something fun!