Just a few days ago I came across a blog named Red Ravine. I have been reading around on it, and there is a post about summer camps. And a writing exercise about Abandoned. It got me to thinking.
I went to summer camp for a few summers. I went to the church sponsored camp, Camp Beisler, in upstate New Jersey. I don’t remember specifically how old I was, but I was probably 9 or 10.
I’m sure it was my idea to go. I was probably lured by the prospect of being in the woods, and anything to do with nature. I was still unaware that adventure is one thing, and adventure with total strangers, and lots of them, is another. I was to be with hundreds of people that I didn’t know, and who didn’t know me. For a week. By myself.
I had been raised in a gregarious household of learning how to shake hands properly before I learned how to tie my shoes. How to answer the business phone in a professional manner and take a message and relay the message was de rigueur behavior before I was old enough to ride a bike. We learned from “the book”, Dale Carnegie’s, “How to Win Friends and Influence People“. If life and people presented difficulty, we would consult “the book” for a solution. This was not a typical childhood environment. It was quite a sophisticated, adult, cerebral environment. All of my parents friends were intelligent, and funny, and conversational, and I was treated as an equal, always. So I felt pretty confident of who I was pretty early on in life.
Back to Camp Beisler.
Camp was one week long. You stayed in a small screened-in cabin. Cots lined each side of the cabin, head to the wall, feet to the center aisle, and held about a dozen campers and one counselor, the same in each of the score of cabins situated around the perimeter of the big central grassy compound. Meals were in the huge dining hall, filled with rows of wooden tables and benches. Evening and sunrise vesper services were held in the woods, located in a clearing down a pine needle cushioned trail, in a ‘chapel’ made of birch tree benches, and not much else. The swimming pool was a pond, of varying degrees of depth, clarity, and temperature, depending on how much rain the area recently received. The camp counselors were probably older teenagers, but I thought they were grown ups. The campers came from all over New Jersey, and they ranged in age from my age and up a few years. When you’re 9, 13 is pretty darned “old”.
I managed at camp my first year, by sheer luck. I learned about not trying to be friends with people that just didn’t want anything to do with me. I made a respectable lanyard. I put together a decent folded over bread, butter and sugar sandwich, as the cook for that year left much to be desired. I learned that dragonflies would NOT sting you in the temple and paralyze you, as I had been warned by the older kids, which made the prospect of the swimming lesson in the pond less daunting.
It also made me decide to try Camp for the second year, the following summer. It was a tremendously beautiful place, and we had gone on a hike en masse to a great lookout point, where my binoculars became a hit with some interested new friends.
So my parents drove me and my stuff off to camp the following summer, on a lovely Saturday morning. I was loaded down with stationery pads and stamps and good intentions of writing, and a few books to read by flashlight at the end of the day, and a swimsuit, styled for the fashion of the day, that over-enhanced my non-curves with awkwardly shaped, built-in, support “cuppage” that would have been the envy of Gina Lollobrigida.
We arrived, I got settled in, we said our goodbyes, with kisses and promises to send postcards and letters, which we knew we wouldn’t send, but were OK with because that’s how we were, and off my parents and nature-shunning sister went.
I was ready for anything.
Camp happened all week without a hitch. I stayed out of trouble, didn’t get stung by a dragonfly, and there was a new cook, so we actually had food to eat for the week.
Here is where it gets interesting on a number of levels… for me as a kid, and kids off at camp everywhere, and for my parents, and parents of kids off at camp everywhere. And it got interesting for the camp Headmaster, and my neighbor back home, and it almost got interesting for the police…
It all started on the last day of the week at camp, Saturday. Parents began arriving well before the 12 noon pick up time. Overly eager parents and relatives began popping up, anxious to be reunited with their little ‘campers’ after a whole weeks separation. Some of the parents were overly demonstrative as far as I was concerned, what with all the clutching hugs and tears and wailing of the children. All a bit much, I thought.
The parents that came a little later, the correct time for kid pick up, were very much more reserved and seemed genuinely happy to see that their children had had a good time. They lingered with the counselors and talked about the weeks activities. It was fun to observe those happy reunitings.
Well, the day wore on, all hot and buzzing with cicadas, and smelling of trampled dry compound lawn. I dozed on my cot, reading, and waiting. My parents were always notoriously late, but I wasn’t worried. They were just having trouble with traffic.
The groups of retrieving relatives slowed to a trickle. Fewer and fewer campers were left, me being one of them. Being last wouldn’t be bad. It would be different, in a special kind of way. I didn’t mind that.
My counselor said goodbye, and headed back to where she had come from the beginning of that summer. The last camper in my cabin left with her father. It was getting close to the end of pick up time, and I was still there.
This is when an idea began to creep into my mind. “Where ARE they?” I asked myself. I was kind of getting perturbed. Late is one thing, but THIS late had better have a good excuse. I bet it was my sister holding them up. She would have had to have pink curlered her hair and sprayed her hairdo stiff…just to come pick me up from camp. Ewwww.
Now it was starting to get twilight. I had walked around the camp compound to assess the remaining campers, and everyone was GONE. No campers, no counselors, no nobody. And certainly not my parents.
OK. This was trouble, I thought. Not so much that I wouldn’t have a place to sleep, because the cabin and the cot were still there, but the dining hall was closed up tight, and it looked like no dinner this evening, and I was getting hungry. I was going to have to call on my extensive survival camping skill resourcefulness and figure something out.
Head for the electricity! There was a light on in the Headmasters house, so I headed straight over there.
We had been told NOT to go near the Headmasters house under any circumstances while at camp. I guess that was so that the Headmaster and his family could have a semi-normal life with all the hundreds of kids milling about the place all summer. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I thought this qualified as desperate. So I pulled myself up tall, and went through the forbidden gate, walked up to the front door of the Headmasters house, and knocked.
The thought went through my mind, “What if nobody is home here? Then what am I going to do?” I’d be darned if I was going to go without dinner!
I waited what seemed an eternity, and finally, to my relief, the Headmaster answered the door.
“Well, hello” he said, “what can I do for you?” I am sure he was surprised to see me, not in a “what a nice surprise” sort of way, but more of a “what are you doing here, and where are your parents?” sort of way.
“My parents have not shown up yet.”, I said. I wasn’t panicky or crying. I was, more than anything , exasperated at having to make their excuses for their tardy behavior. To strangers, no less. It was embarrassing.
“I see.”, he said. “I’m sure they got held up in traffic”, he said, but I had already gone that route in my head hours ago, and I knew that wasn’t it. “Would you like some water?” he asked. I really wanted a hamburger with catsup, but I said, “Yes, please.”. He headed to the kitchen, and I heard some murmuring going on in there. He returned with a glass of water in a few moments, and behind him was a woman, and one of the counselors from one of the older kids cabins. They all looked stricken with fear. The woman, who I assumed was the Headmasters wife, became very solicitous of me. “Oh, you poor darling” sort of stuff. I assured her I wasn’t worried or the least bit frightened. I was just pissed. I didn’t tell her that, that way, because I don’t think I was old enough then to know to use that word, but instead, calmly, made all the grown up excuses I knew my parents would have made, had they raced up to the house at that moment, headlights showing the dust cloud that would follow their momentous arrival.
Instead of their timely arrival, a different series of events began to unfold.
Before you get all exercised by this story, remember, I’m here, and I’m fine. I’m writing about this and the category is ‘funny stories’. My parents were fine, everybody else was fine, and I hope my parents were very embarrassed for many years afterwards.
“Do you know your phone number?” was asked of me. I rattled off the house phone number, and the business phone number, knowing that my parents would answer the business phone for sure, come hell or high water. The Headmaster dialed, and waited. Dialed and waited. Neither phone was answered.
Now I began to worry. They were not there. They were not here. Where were they? It was dark, I was with strangers who appeared to want to leave and go somewhere other than where they had been all summer. I knew I was a nuisance at the time, but folks, I was 10 at best, and ABANDONED! Somebody help me!
“You can call my neighbor Ruthie. She knows everything.”, I said. So we called Ruthie. Ruthie was the ‘across the street’ neighbor with the kind heart and inquiring mind. She was a rough version of the neighborhood Mom. Sure enough, she had seen my parents leave early that afternoon in the car. No, she didn’t know where they were going, but she knew when they had left, which direction they had gone off in, and that it was plenty of time for them to have gotten there by now. We left the Headmasters phone number with her, just in case, and sat stone still once the phone was hung up, silently all thinking different things.
I can imagine now what was going through the heads of the adults in the room. They had a strangers kid on their hands, and may have dead or injured parents somewhere in some hospital in somewhere New Jersey. What was going through my head was, “I’m hungry! It’s 8PM and has no one thought that my last meal was at noon in the camp dining hall? Who is going to step up and be polite and ask if I might be hungry? Dang my parents. Where the heck were they!? How dare they embarrass me like this. My manners are not going to carry me much further. I have been taught to never ask for food, but this is stretching my limit!”
“Are you hungry, honey?” the Headmasters wife asked. “Yes, ma’am, a little”, I said.
“Would you like a sandwich?”
“Yes, ma’am, please.”
The whole Dickensonian ‘please sir can I have some more’ thing was going on.
While I was eating the best baloney sandwich on white bread in the whole world, I remember a number of calls being made outbound, to no apparent avail. I’m sure these poor frightened folks were repeatedly calling my house. Quite a bit of awkward time later, the phone rang.
The headmaster rushed into the room. “You’re parents are safe!” he blurted out.
“When are they coming to get me, I asked?”
“Tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow!?”
Already I’m thinking, “There had better be some breakfast involved in this deal.”
“OK.”, I said.
So here is what had happened. My Mom thought that because the camp was for “one week”, that the week ran from Saturday afternoon to Sunday morning. Just a small oversight. She and my father had gone out for a lovely, ‘last evening without the children’ dinner, just the two of them, my sister being off at my grandparents house. I’m sure my parents enjoyed a cocktail and maybe even shared a dessert at a nice, fine restaurant, lingering romantically over their childless state for one more blissful evening.
When they arrived home at around 10PM, Ruthie, who by this time was duly alarmed, no telling how many of her relatives she talked to in the interim, called my parents and delivered the news to them that they had abandoned their lastborn child in the wilds of Northern New Jersey in the charge of strangers, who had called her, and by the grace of God, it being a church camp and all, she had seen them leaving earlier in the afternoon, and which direction they had gone, and it’s a good thing she just happened to be watching so that she could have some sort of information to give to the poor strangers that were now caring, in a custodial manner, for that frightened little girl…forgotten at camp, no less!
Ruthie did talk in run on sentences, punctuated with the more than occasional, Oi! Oi!.
I don’t remember too many other particulars about my evening. I remember the orange yellow glow of the lamp in the Headmaster’s house. I remember it was quiet, because I couldn’t hear the crickets after having been in the cabin all week. I was given a blanket and pillow, and many apologies for having to sleep on the couch, which I didn’t mention was a damnsight more comfortable than the cot I had just been sleeping on. And I was assured that my parents would arrive at first light or shortly thereafter in the morning, to everyone’s great relief.
I knew they would be there. But maybe a little late, because they tended to do that.
Leslie
Please join the Virtual Camp Beisler Reunion Yahoo Group
http://www.crossroadsretreat.com/crhistory.html
voodoolinks: Camp Beisler
Wow! What an intense and well-written story! We tend to forget, when we’ve grown up, all the injustices such as that, that we endured as children.
Comment by eastcoastdweller — August 13, 2007 @ 5:59 pm
Oh, eastcoastdweller, don’t worry. I was then, and am now, such a well adjusted person because of my parents, this story does more to show how it rolled off my little psyche. All I was concerned with was my next burger! From an adult point of view, and there were quite a few of them involved, it was a catastrophe, but I could have had a grand time at camp, all by myself, if they had just left the kitchen open
Comment by leslie — August 13, 2007 @ 6:26 pm
Bravo…a Camp post that also turned out to be an Abandoned post. Ditto eastcoast’s comment; very well-written. Is this a story you’ve told often, or was it a memory that you hadn’t thought about for a while?
Comment by ybonesy — August 13, 2007 @ 8:01 pm
Hi ybonesy, This is a classic! “My parents forgot me at camp!”
Now that I have a blog, I am getting all this stuff down as fast as I can. When I write, I am just taking dictation for the dialogue in my head. This event has been around since the 60’s, so it has had time to be examined from all angles. I’m sure my mother would write a different version…
Comment by leslie — August 14, 2007 @ 6:19 am
“Camp happened all week without a hitch. I stayed out of trouble”
I wish I could say the same thing… but I can’t.
I got a kick out of this story Leslie. Especially the part where you were apologizing for your parents not being there yet.
Comment by corky — August 14, 2007 @ 7:26 am
W()W! Leslie as many years as I’ve known you I can really imagine this. Vividly! Part of it makes me smile because I know waht a good kid you would have been. Ever know someone so long in their adult life that you can easily picture them (if not accurately) as a child?
(Camp Beisler South), New Jersey
1060+ feet, 323+ meters
Elevation Elevation in range between 1060 and 1080 feet.
(20-foot closed contour)
Peak Type Unnamed Peak
Latitude/Longitude (WGS84) 40° 45′ N; 74° 52′ W
40.750444, -74.860841 (Dec Deg)
511748E 4511064N Zone 18 (UTM)
Country United States
State/Province New Jersey
County/Second Level Region Hunterdon
City/Town Lebanon Twp.
Comment by K Black — August 14, 2007 @ 9:17 am
Corky, You’ll have to ‘fess up and tell your camp stories now! I had some “personality conflicts” the first year, but I matured tremendously by the following year
I am thankful to my parents for all the practice they afforded me at using adult excuses. That practice serves me well in my old age.
I hope this gives you hope in the parenthood role you have so newly acquired. Look what my parents did to me, and I turned out to be…fine…just fine…
Hey, Mr. B!, Boy, do I have you fooled! Do you really think I was GOOD? Seriously, I was a ‘good’ kid, but you can hear that I had a real inner dialogue at work back then! “Where’s my hamburger, dammit?”
And, everybody, the link to Camp Wo-Chi-Ca was news to me! http://www.wo-chi-ca.org/ I didn’t expect to find all that info about what I thought was a remote, non-descript church camp. Yikes! There were commies in with the treehuggers!
Comment by leslie — August 14, 2007 @ 11:06 am
Great piece of writing. The best part was the dialogue you had going on in your head – juxtaposed to the words that really came out of your mouth to the adults you were speaking to. I thought you handled it very well for a young kid. It’s kind of one of those nightmare scenarios that no kid wants to happen. Oh, and I thought the pink curlers were a nice touch! 8 )
Comment by QuoinMonkey — August 14, 2007 @ 7:54 pm
Thanks, QuoinMonkey. That really makes me feel good. I have had that dual dialogue working as long as I can remember. Good thing I was taught manners, or I would be in deep…well, deep.
Some of them are quite cantankerous!
I just ‘realized’ that writing style of mine when I re-read a few of my stories, and then remembered at one time a while ago having identifying 17 different voices, a la Sibyl. That will emerge as a post somewhere in the future, but hunting all 17 for a post might be a pain…
The curlers have huge Freudian, sibling, death implications…kidding, sort of…
If that situation at camp had played out differently than it did, I may not have come off looking so poised. It could have been horrible in so many directions.
Comment by leslie — August 14, 2007 @ 8:46 pm
Hey, Leslie, did the following comment come from one of your 17 personalities:
The curlers have huge Freudian, sibling, death implications…kidding, sort of…
(hee hee)
Comment by ybonesy — August 14, 2007 @ 8:53 pm
Yes. See…this is how I get into trouble.
Comment by leslie — August 15, 2007 @ 6:26 am
This is too funny. Made me laugh .. out loud. I hardly ever do that! I have a good camp story, too. Off to Sunday school camp as a Catholic. Whew.
Thanks for the tale,
Jo
Comment by JoCastillo — August 15, 2007 @ 9:25 pm
Howdy Jo! Why is it that churches feel the need to seperate children from their parents? Is it a conspiracy?
It is a funny story. Glad it made you laugh. I still get a lot of mileage out of it.
Comment by leslie — August 16, 2007 @ 6:44 am
I always wondered about Camp Beisler. I was sort of co-erced into going there as a kid during the early 70’s, and knew it was somewhere in Hunterdon County, but having grown up in Passaic and Bergen Counties, that was like the end of the earth to me. I was sort of a socially inept, awkward kid, and did not enjoy myself at all. The first 2 nights, I pretended I was suffering from migraine headaches and slept in a cabin that I guess had been put aside for medical emergencies. I even summoned up the “courage” to approach the camp director (I remember him as an older guy with white hair) and telling him in the most authoritative tone I could muster that I wanted to go home, as I wasn’t exactly enjoying myself. He wasn’t sympathetic, needless to say. The kids in my cabin were fairly tough, inner-city kids, but they sorta took pity on me. The toughest one there told me one afternoon, “You better take some of that headache medicine tonight, cause I’m gonna beat up (another camper…his name escapes me, but he cried incessantly at night).” This guy seemed to like me, which was good, as he slept in the bunk underneath. One night, as a joke, he stuck his switchblade knife up through my mattress, nearly spearing me in the armpit (and, remember, he liked me!). Ah, memories…!
Comment by edt4 — August 31, 2007 @ 6:06 pm
Hi, edt4, Another Beislerite! OMG! Welcome to the blog!
I was surprised to be able to Google info about Camp Beisler. Have you checked out some of those links? Beisler has been around for a while.
That’s funny…”as I wasn’t exactly enjoying myself”.
Ya know, we really should take kids more seriously, because when you look back on it, you and I both seemed to have our priorities in order…didn’t correspond to the adults, but WE knew what was up, didn’t we?
Comment by leslie — August 31, 2007 @ 6:17 pm
dnj311 I AM LOOKING FOR SOMEONE WHO WORKED AT THE CAMP. IT WAS 1977 OR 1978 HER NAME WAS LINDA BLAIR. I HAVE SOMETHING SHE GAVE ME AND WOULD LIKE TO RETURN IT TO HER. OH AND AS FAR AS THE CAMP GOES IT WAS COLD WET NASTY AND THE FOOD STUNK, AND DO WE ALL REMEMBER THE BUG JUICE?
Comment by dnj311 — December 10, 2007 @ 6:28 pm
Hi dnj311,
Camp Beisler must have influenced a lot of lives:) I am still getting comments!
I went there many years ago, so likely we didn’t know the same people.
I did find this link http://pinecrestllm.org/templates/System/default.asp?id=30130
to a Camp Pinecrest (seems Beisler changed names over time)
You might be able to locate your friend that way.
It amazes me that the watery fruit drink was still called “bug juice”. How funny!
Comment by leslie — December 11, 2007 @ 7:28 am
Your blog reminded me of the two great summers I spent as a counselor at Camp Beisler in 1989 and 1990. Each wek we hiked to Lookout Mountain, as well as many off camp canoeing (down the River Delaware) and hiking trips (along the Appalachian Trail).
Leaving Northern Ireland for those two summers certainly broadened my horizons and I met many good friends, some of whom I have kept in touch with. And if others are out htere, I’d love to hear what y’all are getting up to…
P.S. The counselors had a bet each week to see whose kids would have left first, and so their weekend could begin. I think the record was about 10:50!!
Comment by Ian from Northern Ireland — May 19, 2008 @ 1:57 pm
Hello Beisler-ite Ian!
My counselor would have lost that bet, in spades!
It has been very exciting for me to see how many others have been influenced by their Camp Beisler experiences.
I am also quite surprised that the camp still exists.
I think it was Lookout Mountain where I dropped my birdwatching binoculars!
Thanks, Ian, for adding to the memories about Beisler.
Comment by leslie — May 19, 2008 @ 4:40 pm
Leslie,
So good of you to record your early remembrances of Camp Beisler during those days. I went to the camp for two summers, in 1965 and 1966. I have the picture of our gang from the Niper Studio in Hackettstown, NJ ($1.00) to immortalize the 1966 week. We’re holding a sign that says “Camp Beisler, Junior High, Aug. 14 – Aug. 20, 1966. This picture is one of my most fond memories of good times as a young adult (I was 13 at the time). Even remember a couple of girls that broke my heart, and some that made it soar (can’t remember what I did this morning, but I remember the cute faces.
How I got to Camp Beisler was a bit of a finagle. My family was great friends with a family up the street. I went to grade school and a portion of junior high (or middle to some of you) with two kids (John and Paul) from the family, and my mom was best friends with their mom. They were Lutheran, and we were Roman Catholic. Well, when the topic of summer camp came up, I “converted” for the summers and joined my two buddies at camp.
Aside for all of the good memories about Camp B., like learning to shoot an arrow, swimming in the ice cold “jelly in the toes” lake, eating camp food, singing and falling in junior love, it was my first real time away from home. The tears were present the first few days, but lessoned as I gained some minor independence. I have sooooo wanted to head back up to Califon and see if I could walk the camp, maybe see the lake. Not sure what is there now, and with heightened security, who knows. Maybe in the late fall or winter it might be easier to trespass a bit. I only live about 30 miles from there now, so it is on my agenda.
Thankfully, my dad did get the pickup days right, or our friends did, so we were never left behind as you were. Wow, what an experience. I see you were from Rahway, Hi neighbor, I was from Linden. Midland, Texas, wow, that is a reach. Is the sky still the limit in Midland Texas? I went to college at SMU, so I’m part Texan, even if I am a yankee.
Sadly, one of my buddies, Paul, had died a few years back of MS. I was stunned to see his obit. I did lose track of the family after my folks died, sold the old homestead, and moved away.
ps, your artwork is gorgeous. You have a beautiful talent.
Sincerest regards,
Ron O. (forever a Beisler-ite).
Comment by Ron O. — June 1, 2008 @ 4:22 pm
Hello Ron,
What a treat to get your comment! There’s lots here to reply to.
First… Linden! It’s not often I hear anyone knowing about Rahway, let alone Linden. Do you remember when the refinery blew up, around 1970? It kept the night time sky orange colored for many scary minutes!
And, second… an honorary Texan, too! I’m sure that when you were at SMU you saw a bumper sticker that said, “I wasn’t born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could.”
Midland is still the sky’s the limit, but it’s getting spread out, too. Lots of room to grow, ya think?
You had me giggling when you said you “converted” for the summer to go to camp Beisler. How funny! The only really religious thing we did there was to pray for better food!
Do you recall the camp song? The only line that sticks with me is about being “strong as a pine knot, I’m a Beislerite can’t you see?”
I was too dorky to have kindled any romance at camp, but I do remember a few girls that got lots of attention. I liked boys, but if any liked me, I was unaware
I bet you could visit the camp, and tell the folks there that you want the ‘tour’. When you go, bring the camera, and take tons of pictures!
Wouldn’t it be an interesting statistic to know how many people went to Beisler over the years? It has been operating for quite some time, and I have to believe it has been in quite a few people’s lives!
I am sorry to hear about Paul. None of us know how long we have to make mischief here. One of the reasons for my writing the blog has been to get my stories out into cyberspace before I can’t.
It is delightful to “meet” a fellow Beislerite.
Thanks, Ron, for the nice words about the art, and thanks for the nice comment.
Ya’ll come back!
Comment by leslie — June 2, 2008 @ 8:45 am
Leslie,
Greetings back at cha. Yes, I do remember the Bayway Refinery explosion, very well indeed. I was at a dance at Mother Seton Girl’s HS in Clark on that Saturday (Dec 5, 1970). We had just left the dance, about two or three couples, trying to figure out where we should head to eat. While the girls were discussing, I was laying on the back of my Duster trunk, looking up at the sky, then whoosh. Absolutely stunning. We all piled into the car and headed to Linden, radio blaring. We got as close as Elizabeth Avenue at the Roselle/Elizabeth border, parked and went up onto some high railroad tracks. Had a great view, unbelievable. Living in the area, you always knew something was going to give. By the way, my grandfather and father both worked for Esso early on. As you say, very scary at the time. I think we called our various homes and stayed out till 3 or 4am.
Yes, I vaguely remember the Beisler song, although as I recall, wasn’t my favorite like Cum by ya.
Did you ever do the hike through Califon, past Merv Griffin’s ranch and the general store? That was neat.
I can promise you that when I do get some time, I will get up to Camp to sneak or get a tour. Digi camera will definitely be in hand and I will pass photos on to you. I never break a promise; it just might take a while.
Stay well and have a great summer. I wish you the best. You will hear from me down the road apiece.
Regards.
Ron
Comment by Ron O. — June 3, 2008 @ 5:32 pm
Mother Seton’s! My mind just entered another time warp dimension!
There was a pizza place there in Clark, just off the parkway circle…of course I can’t remember the name…Tito’s?
I was going to reference the Refinery explosion as the Esso refinery, but it sounded so ancient
This is just hilarious to be blogging with someone who knows Linden, Roselle, Mother Seton’s and Esso!
I was indoors when the explosion happened (we never heard a thing, just saw the glow). It was around the time that cars had changed over to orange colored parking lights, and backup lights. I thought someone was making a U-turn just outside, because I saw the color glowing in the windows. It kept getting brighter and brighter, and I thought, “That car is going to bump into the house!”
When the glow kept growing in intensity, and I realized it wasn’t a car, was when I got really scared!
I am still amazed that we didn’t hear or feel anythign in Carteret. The concussion was felt 50 miles up the Hudson River!
I don’t remember hiking into Califon. We did a hike to what I expect was Lookout Mountain. All of the other hikes I recall were on the country roads, under the trees.
Pictures would be so much fun! I wonder if the little camper cabins are still there? And it would be fun to know what the Headmaster’s house really looked like. It was in the “Don’t GO THERE Zone”, so I don’t remember much of it
Comment by leslie — June 3, 2008 @ 6:02 pm
I also went to Camp Beisler during the late 1970s for 2 summers. It was a real coming-of-age experience for me – like of Meatballs but with “Good Old Marty Luther”! I loved camp and all the friends I met there. You sparked so many of my memories about vespers, the cabins, the cedar lake… I also remember going to the canteen for candy bars and ice cream every night and also how we had to “scrape” our plates (and everyone elses’ at the table) with a rubber spatula. In retrospect, my parents must have been quite amazed when I insisted on scraping our family’s dishes into the garbage when I returned. That didn’t last too long! I can still remember the showers and the humiliation of showering in front of other people – especially the camp counselors. My husband can’t believe that I speak so fondly of a church-sponsored camp. Oh to be 12 again!
Comment by Donna Kosco — July 28, 2008 @ 4:08 pm
Hi Donna,
This may sound awful, but I don’t remember the showers!
Did I block it out? Did I decide that the lake was all I needed?
Is that why I didn’t make many friends?
That’s funny about the plate scraping! I don’t think I picked up any ‘good family values’ habits at camp!
Do you ever hear from anyone you met at camp? I remember one gals name, and where she lived, but can’t imagine she would remember me. I am amazed at how many years the camp has been in operation!
Thanks so much for commenting on the blog. Beisler really touched a lot of lives, far more than I would have imagined.
Comment by leslie — July 28, 2008 @ 4:23 pm
Leslie,
I humorously disagree – I think that girl would absolutely remember you. I remember many many of the names of people I went to camp with there. For a few years after camp I kept in touch with some people, and even made arrangements to visit them. It was strange seeing them “grown up” and, naturally, we all drifted apart after that. Reminiscing about the “D” song didnn’t have any appeal any more. From time to time I Google people to see if I can find them. I never reached out to anyone though, but would love to.
One time when I was an “adult” (early 20s) I happened to be in a town where my best friend and bunk mate from Beisler was from. I can’t remember where I was in town (or what I was doing there) but I spotted a memorial to my friend who had apparently died of cancer when she was still a teenager. That broke my heart and I always think of her.
On a funnier note, there was a boy at camp who all the girls loved. At the time I thought he was an Adonis but I didn’t have a chance with him. He liked me though and would flirt with me just enough to make me insane over him. But he had another girlfriend (not worthy of him, of course). I made arrangements to see him years later. But when I saw him, I didn’t recognize him with his facial hair AND I don’t think he had grown an inch since camp. At this point I towered over him and the girlhood crush was gone forever. I guess the lesson is, some things are better meant to be left alone.
But thank YOU for making me think of Camp Beisler again!
Comment by Donna Kosco — July 30, 2008 @ 5:03 am
Hi Donna!
There is one girl who might remember me, because she got me out of a jam with the cabin counselor after I ‘misbehaved’. Yes, I misbehaved!
We wrote letters back and forth for a bit after camp. I called her on the phone once, but it felt awkward. Like you said, some things are meant to be left alone.
I do remember what she looked like…cute as a bug, with dark hair cut in bangs, and a perfect toss of freskles across her nose. Name was Kathy. Lived in Hazlet, New Jersey.
We might be better able now to interact.
I wonder if there is any sort of alumni gathering of Beislerites?
By the way, your writing is great, and I think you should start a blog!
Comment by leslie — July 30, 2008 @ 8:09 am
Hi! I was Googling “Camp Beisler” and stumbled upon your blog. I went there too! Ohhh.. the memories! There was a girl in my cabin named Leslie.. I know it’s a long shot, but I’m wondering if it’s you? I was there two years in the late 1960’s. I even remember one year I was in “Cabin 16″ with “Patty” as my counselor and in “Cabin 9″ with “Barbara.” I have lots of pictures from camp and absolutely loved my time there! Remember the Beisler-Olympics? Rock-hopping? The Beaver Award? The Carnival?
Comment by Chris — July 30, 2008 @ 9:39 am
Hi Chris,
Either that or I am getting older than I would like to admit!
This is so cool, all these Beislerites!
It’s Beisler Reunion!
I don’t remember the exact years that I went to Beisler. I think it was 1962 or maybe 1963.
The name Patty sounds familiar as a counselor, and I remember a boys counselor named Jay, because we had a “scavenger hunt”, but we were hunting counselors, and Jay was dressed in blue, and in a tree, and we had to guess that he was a Blue Jay
I don’t remember the cabin number, but I can envision it’s location.
I don’t remember the Olympics, or rock hopping, or the beaver award or the carnival. It sounds like you had more fun than I did!
My blog gets a good number of ‘looks’ for Beisler according to my stat counter, so maybe we can get more folks to tell their stories, too.
That would be super!
Thanks for commenting. We are Beislerites!
Comment by leslie — July 30, 2008 @ 10:17 am
Hey Leslie:
Wow.. thanks so much for writing back! I can e-mail you some of my old pictures if you like. I just don’t have your e-mail address though.
We really should have a Camp Beisler website. Wouldn’t it be great to have a place we can post our old pictures, share memories and stories.. and .. hey, my mother even saved some of my letters from camp!
I was there after after you. I looked at our group pictures.. it was 1968 and 1969. I used to go the Last week of July and the first week of August. Oh.. and the cabin was cabin #4, not #9. Cabin #16 was the big one– there were boys on one side and girls on the other (where the group picture was taken.)
Some more memories…
We also would find the counselors.. but they would be hiding somewhere that had to do with the first letter of their name. No one every could find Patty. During her last year, she confided that she was hidden at “Patty’s Private Place.” When pressed, she admitted that it was the Picnic Grove.
Remember building a “home in the woods?” You would team up with a boy’s cabin and build a place to sleep out one night. They would tell ghost stories, and roast marshmallows. One of the favorite story was of “The Purple Bishop.” One of the counselors would hide in the woods wearing all purple and a bishop’s hat. If you spotted him, he would throw purple chalk at you. Oh, and I got my first ever kiss that night!
We played “Beisleropoly” which was a life-size version of the game. Each cabin was a mark on the board and you would go from cabin to cabin.
Remember they played revele and taps over that loud speaker?
They had a dance for us in the mess hall. Some of the counselors had a band that was really good.
I remember the first day, they had sort of an icebreaker event. They divided us up and had us come back dressed as something they assigned. One year I was a “doodle bug”. I had the most ridiculous costume made out of a swim cap with two tooth brushes stuck out of them for antenna. And once, they assigned us “Blonde Bombshell.” Well, being 11 years old, I had never heard the term, so I got a yellow blanket and sat under it and went “tick, tick, tick!”
The carnival was great. They spray painted gold paint on stones all over the camp. If you found one, it was worth a lot of “money.” They also threw fake paper money all over. You used the money to play the carnival games. Everyone had a crush on “Hank” the counselor.. who had a kissing booth. You would give him your fake money, he would kiss you on the cheek, and you would then get an x made out of first aid tape to mark the spot. We girls swooned, and wouldn’t take our x’s off until they fell off!
The Beaver award was given to the cabin that was the cleanest. You got to hang it on your cabin for a full day. Everyone really wanted to win when it was parent’s visitation day (we did two weeks, they would come up on either the Saturday or Sunday.. I forgot which it was.)
Remember the songs we would sing after each meal? “Heads, shoulders knees and toes, knees and toes…”
“Annoucements, announcements, announcements. Susie has another one, nother one, nother one, Susie has another one, she has them all the time. Announcements, announcements, annn-oooooow-nce-ments!”
And the religious songs? “We are climbing Jacob’s ladder.”
“Do lord, oh do lord, oh do remember me, oh lordie, do lord, oh do lord, oh do remember me.”
I remember SO much of camp, even though it was *gasp!* 40 years ago!
We really SHOULD have a Beisler reunion. I bet we could arrange a weekend or an overnighter at the camp. How cool would that be?
Oh, and funny enough.. my neighbor tells me she and her family once went there for a work week! They said that you no longer swim in the lake… they now have a pool. (That lake was really icky too.. remember?) And now all the cabins are handicapped accessable.. so they look a little different in the front.
I still have my old autograph book from camp. I should look some of the people up. Can you tell how much Camp Beisler meant to me? Great times, great fun!
Chris
Comment by Chris — July 30, 2008 @ 2:19 pm
Hi Chris,
my email addres is hidden up in the “pages” part of the blog under “contact”.
you are more than welcome to email.
leslie at lesliehawes dot com
There is a link in comment 7 that has some photographs.
Beisler underwent quite a few changes over the years.
I do remember the very scratchy sounding reveille record. We usually jumped out of our skin when whoever was playing it would drop the needle arm onto the record
the “scratchy” was soooo annoying.
First kiss, eh?
No wonder camp was memorable
I was busy trying not to get stung in the temple by a dragonfly, and meeting my early demise!
Send me an email, and we can compare notes!
Leslie
Comment by leslie — July 30, 2008 @ 2:48 pm
Hey Leslie:
I sent you some camp pictures! Check your e-mail.
Chris
Comment by Chris — July 30, 2008 @ 8:21 pm
OMG Chris!
Those pictures are great.
I am going ot emailback to you, and see if we can post some of them.
Thank you for sending them, Beislerite.
Comment by leslie — July 31, 2008 @ 11:00 am
Hey Leslie,
It’s great reading some of these latest posts. I am spending you via email a camp picture I just scanned (hope it works). It is the group picture from my week at camp in 1966, August 14th to the 20th. Junior High, whoppee and wowsers. We were sooo grown up. When I catch you offline, I’ll point out the sweethearts that broke my heart. Oh, and I’ll point out yours truly, and my two friends from Linden.
Hugs to the Wild Deuce. Tell him to smile.
Ron
Comment by Ron O. — August 7, 2008 @ 5:51 pm
Hi Ron,
I was all cateye glasses and short, crooked bangs. A real “looker”! 
I got the scan of the picture, and it is spectacular!
Aren’t the junior high years just the geekiest?
The wild Deuce man is sleeping off his strenuous AM workout. His rest will last until dinner time!
Comment by leslie — August 8, 2008 @ 2:03 pm
Wow…I did not think the camp would still be open.I had very good memories of camp B.One year we put on a play about charlie brown for our parnets when they came to pick us up…the cheif was a heavy set guy who was the nicest guy..and boy could he cook. I live in N.C. now but i would like to one day return to the camp just for old times sake.
Comment by Hermione Douglas — August 9, 2008 @ 10:35 am
Wow. Camp Beisler.
I think I probably spent the best summers of my life up there. I was a camper there from 1964 to 1971- still have all of my camp pictures from back then. I was also on staff for the summers of ‘72,(assistant A&C)’73,(counselor- cabin 6!) and ‘74(A&C director).
What great memories I have of that place. Fred Wieboldt was the camp director (not headmaster) there from ‘66- ‘74.(Things changed a lot at Beisler after Fred left.)
He used to recruit a lot of the staff from Upsala College, since he was the Athletics Director there. That’s actually how I met my husband; he was one of Fred’s guys from Upsie and was on the waterfront. We met the summer of ‘73.
I remember as a camper that they called the cabin groupings the “upper and lower compounds”. The lower compound were the green cabins- usually used for the older kids, whether jr hi or high school. Cabins A, B,C, were the boys’ cabins; D,E,F were the girls’.
The upper consisted of the older brown cabins (including the building we called the Library-that’s the log-type building that the camp pictures were taken in front of.)
Memories: rock hopping,going to Lookout Mountain(it’s real name, I found out, is Point Mountain),the Purple Bishop, the Beaver Award, Beisler-opoly,counselor hunts, singing Junior Birdman,hobo hikes, gold rush (collecting all of those rocks they painted gold- the team that collected the most rocks (in weight) won. I remember they used the scale from the nurse’s cabin to weigh them- probably broke it!
Making slumgolian (a mixture of ground beef and veggies) for the one pot dinner in the home in the woods on Thursday night sleep outs.
The Oasis…. The water fountain in the gazebo in the middle of the field. That’s where Hank had his kissing booth for the carnival.
I remember the counselor band playing on top of one of the flat roofed cabins on the upper compound. Mark Zybas,(all the girls loved him- he was so cute!) Paul Garver, and… I forget who the drummer was!
BTW, in post #34, they mention a specific group picture. I’m in it.. Second row up from the bottom, second one in from the left. Dark hair, white tee shirt. The girl to the left of me was Diana, the girl to the right was Cathy.
Counselors I remember: Alayne (cabin
Sam (cabin 6)Steve on waterfront, Wayne.
Patti Roth (cabin F- “F Troop)she married Neil Jaggie
(cabin B) who is a minister (we used to call him Jiminy Cricket)I actually roomed with Patti’s sister freshman year at college….
Tommy, Grover, Scott, Emmet,Barb Zybas( Mark’s sister)
Jan (cabin D)- I still exchange Christmas cards with her.
Someone mentioned a counselor named Jay- I remember the waterfront director in’64 was named Jay Shore.
Two of the camp songs I distinctly remember (hey,.. I spent 11 summers there!) were “Remember” and “Camp Beisler” (sung to the tune of “The Ash Grove”)
“Camp Beisler how lovely, and lightly our laughing
the winds through the woodlands a language for me.
And over the meadow the moonlight is shining,
so many warm memories recalling to me.
The twilight, the starlight, the shimmer of sunshine
all fall on out pathway as freely we roam.
The mist on the mountain, the shade and the shadow
Camp Beisler, Camp Beisler is our summer home.”
“Remember the fun you had here
Remember when you’re away
Remember the friends you made here
And don’t forget to come back some day
Remember the fields and woodlands
the sky so heavenly blue.
for you belong to Camp Beisler,
and Camp Beisler belongs to you.”
When we used to sing the song “Remember (as a staff member) we used to wring out wet sponges under our eyes as if we were crying.
If anyone remembers going there in the early 70’s, there used to be a round sign hanging at the entry to the camp driveway that looked like the symbol on the green tee shirts- I was the one who made it. They also used to have a jeep for the waterfront staff to get to and from the lake. I remember painting it once when I was a senior high camper (went on the very first senior high canoe trip) and then again when I was on staff. Also painted the Viking and frog on the shutters of the arts and crafts barn. (Why I painted the Viking is another story, unless someone else beside me remembers Glenn the “Head Viking” and the “Jr Vikings”??)
I still have my Beisler pictures and memorabilia, including a “Friendly Freddy” dinner plate- does anyone remember those- and what we used to do with them as “table hops”?
The camp does still exist- it is now called CrossRoads. http://www.crossroadsretreat.com/
My husband and I took our kids up to see it back in ‘96- to show them where we met. It was kinda cool to see the place again. The original bathrooms (aka “The Heads”) with those infamous group shower rooms were gone- replaced by a new bathroom facility. I even found stuff my campers had written in my cabin (cabin 6) when I was their counselor in’73.(“Amy’s Army”) Cabin 6 & 8 used to have the Nature Lodge between them, but from what I can tell now by looking at a Google map image, I believe they tore down those cabins and built a pool there.
Leslie, it was wonderful to find your postings online. I too have often wondered about having a Camp Beisler reunion.
So many good memories of things we did there, both as a camper and as staff. I wonder if there are any staff members out there from ‘72-’75 who have memories to share as well.
Comment by Amy — August 10, 2008 @ 3:04 pm
Hey Amy,
I just checked my photo scan, and I found you in the pic. You must have had some super times up there. I envy your visit with hubby and kids, I too will get up there soon, hopefully, but I do know there is no going back again. I really want to see the lake, it has my warmest (I’m kidding here on all levels) memories of ice cold water, jelly between the toes, learning to swim and getting to the rope, and swallowing gallons of great(kidding again)lake water. I don’t remember my cabin, just that is was low down the hill, not terribly far from the lake. Always loved the hike up the hill for food, activities, etc.
WOW, you get the award for the unbelievable memory. OMG, you have so much captured. Unreal. I’m so glad you posted everything, although I must have blocked out all memory of the song.
Thank you again, so much for the loaded posting. I know the year on the pic is 1966, I believe my first time there. Did it again in 67.
Leslie, look what you have started. Hugs to you and snuggles to Deuce (aka, diablo dog).
Comment by Ron O. — August 11, 2008 @ 8:17 am
Hi Hermione!
Sorry it has taken so long for me to say hello to you. Hello!
I’m so glad you joined in the Beisler discussion! I am making it a “regular feature” here on Leslie’s Blog. Here is a link to another Beisler post that I put up today…
http://www.lesliehawes.com/wordpress/?p=1673
When I put up my first Beisler post almost a year ago, I had no idea how many people would find it of interest. I am delighted to find out!
Stop by from time to time and relive some of those camp days!
Comment by leslie — August 11, 2008 @ 4:34 pm
Here’s a reference link to The Purple Bishop…
http://wirenot.net/X/Stories/Ghost/Ghost_C-D/CampOuija.shtml
Comment by leslie — August 11, 2008 @ 4:36 pm
Hi Ron,
Yes, I had to admit, Beisler was an important part of my life during the formative years. I used to go for 2 weeks every year in August, and then 3 weeks when I was in HS, just so I could go on the canoe trips, as well as the regular camp. I think one of the things I liked best about it was that even though it was a church camp, they didn’t emphasize the religious part that much. I basically went for the fun and friends! And hey, if I had never gone, I probably never would have met my husband (we just celebrated our 31st anniversary!)
They actually enlarged the little swimming lake that was there in the 60’s. I think they did around ‘70 or so- they actually put up two above ground pools for us to swim in that summer. I have pictures of my friends completely covered in mud from head to toe- one night the evening activity was mud fights down where they were excavating the new lake. But I do remember both the old and new(?)lakes as being freezing cold in the morning! When I worked there I found out the waterfront staff always tried not to have classes first period, because they didn’t want to get in the cold water either.
Comment by Amy — August 11, 2008 @ 4:41 pm
Amy!
You have prompted me to begin the Camp Beisler category on Leslie’s Blog!
http://www.lesliehawes.com/wordpress/?p=1673
Ron O. has graciously given permission to post the 1966 photo, so I did
I truly appreciate all the information packed into your comment!
I had never heard of The Purple Bishop, and I am sooooo glad!
You get the ‘prize’ for being most totally Beisler…you met your husband there. Kinda hard to top that
I hope your fabulous comment stirs up some interest in the Camp Beisler posts.
I am very appreciative.
If you want anything (pictures) posted, please email and we’ll see what we can work out.
Comment by leslie — August 11, 2008 @ 4:56 pm
Hey Ron,
I didn’t start it, YOU did.
No, YOU did…
Comment by leslie — August 11, 2008 @ 5:04 pm
Hi leslie…thanks for this great idea…i often talk to my family and children about camp B and the great influence it had on me in my younger years and how important it was in my life and if only i could have 1 more day….oh well i do have my memories.Rember the green cards we would use for canteen? And the songs…up in the air junior birdsmens.and rember the staff saying no carving your name on the wall’s.I’m sure our names are everywhere.Thanks for the chance to talk to others that was there and know about the inpact it had on each of our lives.
Comment by Hermione Douglas — August 12, 2008 @ 6:23 am
Hermione,
I sort of remember the canteen cards. I am an incurable chocoholic, and I am sure the prospect of M&M’s or a Chunky or a Baby Ruth helps me ’sort of’ remember
Do you know what year you were there?
Comment by leslie — August 12, 2008 @ 9:14 am
Canteen cards- you could get them in different amounts. Back then an entire dollar would last you the entire week. Do you remember Sweet Tarts and Pixie Sticks? The best were the frozen Milky Way bars.
I remember kids collecting the glass soda bottles- you got the princely sum of 2 cents back on each one you returned to the Canteen.
Comment by Amy — August 12, 2008 @ 11:49 am
Amy,
I had one “near death experience” with three pixie stix administered directly to the back of the throat via a tilted head, with a ‘friend’s’ help.
Now that I think about it, this could be the origins of my chocoholism…
Comment by leslie — August 12, 2008 @ 12:03 pm
I was at camp B the summer of 73 and the summer of 74…i was in the cabin next to the nature cabin …..yes i do rember the canten cards and the soda bottle returns…i did not like pixe sticks. Rember we had to pick out 3 activities we wanted to do…like nature…free swim…swim lessons..arts and crafts…canoeing achery….i rember enjoying making this with the lanyard…. i liked the captain crunch icecream.The hardest thing was leaving the camp at the end of the summer and the friends you made was certain to live in a city far from where you lived and then the next summer hoping to see some of your friends the next year…i rember staying a few weeks and seeing friends from the summer before….hoping your parnets would let you stay long enough to see if any more of your friends might show up.
Comment by Hermione Douglas — August 12, 2008 @ 7:17 pm
Hermione,
I’m sure my counselors must have loved me for that! As a counselor there, I couldn’t wait for all of my campers to be picked up, so my weekend could begin. Things had certainly changed from when you were left there Leslie- we were told we could not leave our cabins until all of our campers had been picked up!
When I was a camper there I always told my parents to come pick me up the latest they could so I could spend the most time there with my friends
Hermione, if you were there in ‘73 and ‘74, it’s probable that our paths had crossed. I was a counselor in Cabin 6 in ‘73, and ran the arts and crafts barn in ‘74. Small world!
Comment by Amy — August 12, 2008 @ 8:19 pm
Amy: What weeks and years did you attend as a camper? I always went the last week in July and the first week in August during the years 1967, 68 and 69. I have a feeling we may have crossed paths because so many of the things you mentioned and the staff are exactly the same memories I have. Reading your post brought back so much.. it’s like putting together the missing pieces of your past.
I have my autograph book that I brought from camp, and here is the staff who signed it in 1969:
Chris H. (Cabin 10) — she was my counselor the last year I attended
“Spider” (I have no idea what his real name was, but that’s what everyone called him)
Mike
Al K.
Scott J.
Frank T.(Cabin B)
Thomas T.
Steve (Cabin A)
My former counselors were Barbara Z. (cabin
and Patty R. (cabin 16– “the library)
And.. btw… I had a crush on Mark Z. too. If you see him, tell him I’m still available!
Comment by Chris — August 12, 2008 @ 9:37 pm
Chris:
But I did end up having an outdoor ceremony, and Glenn S. (the Head Viking of my earlier post) co-officiated at it. If you remember, we had a lot of seminary students who worked up there, and he was one of them.
I went to Beisler from 1964 – 1971 as a camper, and worked there 1972-1974. I used to go for two weeks in August, usually the middle weeks. After reading your post, I went back to look at my group camp pictures…. and realized I don’t have one from the summer of ‘69. I have lots of pictures of friends, but not that one! If anyone out there has one from that year , maybe August 10 – 23, let me know. Now, this is kind of spooky, but when I went to check online to see what the dates would have been back in 1969, it turns out that the days and dates are the same as this year’s calendar (at least for August). So that means I was at camp 39 years ago this week. Weird!
Ahhhh, Mark Z. … when he was 17, all the 12 year old girls had crushes on him… his older sister Artie worked there too, along with his other sister Barb. Now he was a real Beislerite! He actually got married in the outdoor chapel up there, and for a while was the camp caretaker.
Seriously,I had wanted to get married up there too, but my parents convinced me that my grandparents would have had trouble tottering down the “vesper trail” to the chapel!–not to mention sitting on the logs!
Comment by Amy — August 13, 2008 @ 6:59 am
Amy,
I have to believe that my episode of ‘being left at camp’ was instrumental in the establishment of the “no counselor leaves until all the campers are picked up” rule!
Leslie
Comment by leslie — August 13, 2008 @ 10:21 am
I also like being picked up last i looked forward to going every year and not wanting to go home.And i rember at the end of summer camp they would have family week…we never did family week at camp B…but we did family week at a girl scout camp in n.j.
Comment by Hermione Douglas — August 13, 2008 @ 11:51 am
Mark Z. got married? HOW DARE HE?!!! You mean he didn’t wait for me?!!! And to think.. I held out all these years for him!
Speaking of male counselors, does anybody remember Grover? He was the counselor we were all terrified of. When he was on grounds duty after lights out.. look out!
Long after the scratchy taps record went silent, all the girls in my cabin would be under the covers telling jokes, singing Beatle’s songs, and talking about which cabin had the cutest guys. You know how pre-teen girls are.. joking, and squealing, and making all kinds of noise.
Suddenly, the screen door would squeek open v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y! CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! Very quietly, an extremely tall, and imposing figure would appear inside the door. The room fell silent. The dark shadow stood there, shining his flashlight down each bunk while each girl pretended to be asleep.
But we didn’t fool Grover. “HOLD IT DOWN, GIRLS! DO YOU WANT TO SCRUB THE HEADS AGAIN TOMORROW?!!!”
The cabin would fall silent. Covers would go over everyone’s heads. Well, all except for me.
Being a dare-devil, I would make some sort of snarky remark, which would crack up the entire cabin. I knew what would come next. He would storm over to my bunk, shine his flashlight right in my eyes and pause for effect while I was temporarily blinded.
“YOU THINK IT’S FUNNY? YOU’LL BE THE ONLY ONE SCRUBBING THE TOILETS WITH A TOOTHBRUSH!”
And as quickly as he appeared, be disappeared into the cricket-filled night.
I wonder if, after his Beisler days, Grover joined the Marines and became a drill sergeant?
Comment by Chris — August 13, 2008 @ 1:40 pm
I don’t have any pictures from camp i wonder if the camp has the pictures the took of the campers in the group setting? Does anyone know? Seems like i rember there were pictures of campers of the past in the lodge.The lodge was the large building that the offices was located and i rember that’s where we went when we wanted to get another canteen card…if your parnets left extra money for snacks.And Amy….from the things you say in your comments i think we were there {at camp at the same time}as time goes by maybe someone will say something to jog our memiories.This is so cool…and like i said before it feels really good to talk to others that was there and can laugh at those times in our lives…wow how easy life was….
Comment by Hermione Douglas — August 13, 2008 @ 3:39 pm
I don’t have any pictures of my camp days…i wish i did…i have such good memories.I rember the large aircondictioned lodge where the offices were.We would have to go there to get new canteen cards,I rember there would be pictures of past campers….i wonder do they put up pictures of all the past campers? Does anyone know? I have traveled all around the country…yet camp B is up there with some of the others places i have been and the memories are price less.Looking back…i would not trade those day’s for anything….who would have ever thought we all would be here talking about how camp played such an important part of our lives and sharing out experinces there at camp B.
Comment by Hermione Douglas — August 13, 2008 @ 3:53 pm
Hey Chris,
I have a picture of Tommy and Grover from ‘68…. Yes, I remember him! lol
When I worked there, I remember finding files and old camp pictures stored up in the attic of the Crafts barn. Now, that was 34 years ago, so who knows what has happened to them since…
Comment by Amy — August 13, 2008 @ 9:25 pm
Hi all,
All of this talk about old camp pictures has prompted me to fire off an email to “Crossroads” (the new version of Beisler)and ask them if they still had any old camp pictures.
I will let you know if I hear anything.
Comment by Amy — August 14, 2008 @ 5:02 am
I took on more than I expected.
Please go to THE VIRTUAL CAMP BEISLER REUNION to add to comments.
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/campbeisler/
Comment by leslie — August 14, 2008 @ 11:55 am
Thank you Amy…i look forward to hear what they say about the pictures
Comment by Hermione Douglas — August 14, 2008 @ 7:23 pm
Hi All: I went to Camp Beisler in the summer of 1973 and 1974. I distinctly being told of Nixon’s impeachment by one of the camp counselors. I have a long lost picture somewhere…I’ll have to dig it out of storage sometime this spring and post it on the site.
AmyPinNJ
Comment by AmyPinNJ — February 3, 2009 @ 9:11 am
Hi Amy!
Visit the Camp Beisler Group forum. Lots of campers over there sitting around the campfire!
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/campbeisler/
Comment by leslie — February 3, 2009 @ 9:41 am