I went to camp up here in Canada; there were tall willowy pines, canoes, indescribably healthy girls, running, playing, sweating, dirty laundry, names above your bunk, projectile vomitting, puberty, fears,  tears, colour days, thunder-storms, Venezualans, sabbath, shabbas, cold showers, dirty jokes, grilled cheese, ketchup, smiles and loneliness.

There was a loud, energetic camp leader, plays, music, moments of homesickness, awkardness, first times, crushes, lifelong friendships, cold weather, hot weather, wet weather, crotch rot, impatago, rumors, lies, laughs, jokes, racism, punches, kisses, Bernies and Geoffs, plaques, accents, adenoids, memories, traditions, testosterone and muscular girls.

There was loneliness, deep revelations, painful belly laughs, campy theater, cheap laughs, campfires, cheap pranks, innocent looks, pretty girls, cliquish petty behavior, selflessness, coming-of-age awakenings, isolation, pimples, camp-fires, The Old Black Watch, football, sailing, heart-rending crushes and tears. It was that smelly kid in the other bunk. It was that creepy counselor.

There were stolen kisses, broken hearts, soaring hopes, ambitions, hugs, stolen touches, tears, broken records, corny old camp songs, lovely old camp songs, zaidies, nonas, huge pines, camping trips in Northern Ontario, cliques, sail boats, Sue Canoe, nicknames, King Ferdies in Huntsville, guitars, satire, girls, passives, aggressives, Meningitis Bay, and lifelong memories. It was a revelation, it was communal, it was religion.