Hit the rewind button. We need to go back to early Thursday to recap a slew of events and moments that held their place in such high honor. The first being the progress towards trying to be the cleanest room. Every time we stepped up our game, it seemed like another boys room was one step ahead. Tim B decided that we weren't holding anything back this time. That morning before breakfast, we got to work. We packed all of our stuff as if we were leaving and neatly organized the luggage in our closet. We made all the beds with hotel blanket folds and they were so neat they looked as if no one had slept in them all week. We emptied the trash, did some dusting, and picked up every spec of dirt off the floor we could find. We made the bathroom spotless and the cherry on top was when Tim B gave French folds to the toilet paper roll to look like it had been handled by a five star hotel. The room was pristine.
Post breakfast, and through the morning events, anticipation was building. The afternoon was scheduled for a massive competition. The mighty JHFC Olympics. The events were pre-planned by a select group of serving ones. Each varied in points which would determine the winners of the Olympics. And like dodgeball on day one, it was boys vs girls. We were put into teams by our groups for the week and lined up like sheep in a narrow corral. Relay races. We were doing relay races. The first 40 minutes or so consisted of crab walks, wheelbarrow races, dizzy bat runs, etc. Every time a group thought they finished first, they let out an eruptive cheer. I hated relay races, but I was still giving it my all so as to not let the girls teams beat us.
The main event wasn't the last. It was revered. It was talked about all week. And it was one the boys could not afford to lose. The all mighty Tug-of-War. Laid out across the field was an extremely long, approximately 2" thick rope. There was no messing around here. The first round was jr high boys vs jr high girls. I found a spot on the back of the rope, closer to the midway point. We had a bigger kid as the anchor and he tied the end of the rope around his waist. Now here's the thing that young children forget. Before boys and girls hit puberty, they are nearly even when it comes to strength and physicality. So when the moderator who was doing his best to keep the marker centered, finally dropped the rope and signaled the start, I was surprised at how much of a pull was coming from the other side. My feet started dragging. I jammed my heels into the dirt and pulled until I was red in the face. I saw the marker moving the wrong direction and broke my concentration. Suddenly there was a brief surge on our side. But with my sweaty grip and exhausted state, I slipped off the rope and hit the dirt. I had to roll out of the way of trampling feet. I then watched in horror as the rope marker went further the wrong way and crossed the line of no return. Screams of joy broke out on the other side. Disbelief and stunned looks fell on our side. The battle may have been lost, but the war wasn't over.
One round of Tug-of-War was not enough. Best two out of three was the call. The boys huddled up and came up with a new strategy. We shuffled bodies and made sure no one would be in a compromising spot. The rope was raised, the whistle blew and we pulled like our lives depended on it. This time though, it wasn't brute strength. One of our high school serving ones was on the side shouting, "1-2-3 PULL!" In our huddle we were taught to give a surge-tug every time we heard the word PULL. That surge-tug was what we needed as we swiftly hauled that rope marker across our victory line. Now it was our turn to celebrate. Loud cheers, high-fives, and maybe an arm flex or two could be seen by the spectators.
The final round waited for no one. We were back on the rope and both sides were determined to keep that marker from crossing the other side. The whistle once again blew, but when it did, chaos filled the air. There were now high school and college serving ones from both sides shouting "1-2-3 PULL!" That rope marker was barely moving. The shouts became screams. Sweat was running down faces and into eyes. Arms and legs were getting wobbly. But no one gave an inch. We were all going to drop from exhaustion as a stalemate ensued. My fingers burned and my muscles ached. Just as I thought I was about to drop again, I felt it. The rope marker was coming our way. We had got the advantage we needed. The pull on our side didn't stop and the marker broke our victory line. The end whistle blew and there was roar from the male serving ones that drowned out our cheers. We lost the first battle, but we won the war. The Tug-of-War.
There were more events included in the Olympics, but I only recall what happened in one last event. The Water Balloon Toss. Fairly simple concept if you're not familiar. You picked a partner and lined up across from a center line at an arm's reach away. Everyone on one side of the line held a water balloon. Then, at every whistle, the person holding the water balloon would toss it across to their partner. If the water balloon broke at any point, you were out. After each toss, everyone had to take one step back. There were line judges to make sure the everyone was at an even distance. You had to toss from that point, but once the balloon was in the air, your partner could move to wherever it was possibly going to land. The top three teams to get the farthest earned points for their respective group overall. I wanted to win this so badly as I had tossed many water balloons in my day from all of my Kid's Club days. This was just a dream, however, as I can't even tell you who my partner was as we got eliminated after the first few tosses. I think my mind blocked part of that memory due to disappointment. I do remember that at least two boy pairs made it the farthest two distances.
Ultimately, I believe the boys wound up taking home the Olympic crown that year, but since I can't recall the other events involved, I can't say that with full confidence. What I can write with full confidence is an epic memory that I will never forget. It occurred near the end of dinner that evening. The room inspectors had given Mike S their final comments and scores. Everyone became silent waiting for the results. Mike began with the worst rooms first. Our number was not called, but we knew it wasn't going to be. Then he announced the top three rooms. The third place room was not ours and I was getting nervous and excited at the same time. He then announced a room that was not ours and started listing the comments. Their room was near spotless and I thought for sure they had won. But then, the strangest comment I ever heard became music to my ears. Mike announced that the inspectors had found a black piece of fuzz on the floor. The whole cafeteria went "OOOOOO". He then announced that they had placed second. He followed that up with, "that means room 17 had the best room for the day!" Tim B pumped his fists in the air in celebration. Me and my other roommates cheered at our tables knowing that our hard work had paid off. We went from the worst room on day one to the best room on the final day. Thank you rogue black piece of fuzz.
The final day brought two more unique events in what were known as the Talent Show and the Bible Bowl. The talent show was the final event to earn points towards the Bible Bowl. If your group chose to participate, you had to come up with something creative that incorporated anything associated with the camp. Most groups would perform a skit based on a bible passage. Some would perform an original song they created over the weekend. It was a time filled with laughter and wholesome goodness which gave a small reprieve from competition.
Then it was time for the Bible Bowl. We all assembled in the gym with the boys in chairs on one side and the girls in chairs on the other. The serving ones had submitted questions over the course of the week based on the bible stories, verses, and general trivia about things that happened at the camp. The rules were as follows. A question would be read. To answer, you had to stand up. First person to stand up would get to answer. If the person who stood popped up before the question was fully read, the serving one would stop reading and the person would have to answer. If the person answering got the question wrong, the other team would get a chance to steal. No one was allowed to answer two questions in a row if they got the first one correct. The last two minutes would be a lighting round where there was no limit to how many times you could answer and there were no steals. You were either wrong or right and then the next question would be asked.
The competition was fierce. Loud cheers would come from each side for every right answer. Louder cheers for a successful recite of a memory verse. Arguments would also break out over rules or distractions, but the serving ones mostly kept the peace. The score was heavily close until the lighting round. It was there the boys took the lead and pulled away for good. I didn't contribute much, but I believe I had answered a question or two correctly during the competition, but don't ask me what they were. It was a thrilling end to what was an incredible week.
So that's it. We've finally come to the end of my first summer camp experience. What an amazing one it was. I met many great people, made some friends, had some life changing experiences, and found out what faith truly is. This camp was a staple in who I turned out to be and would be a factor for many years to come. I would eventually attend many more of these and have many more stories to tell, but those are for another time. I hope you enjoyed this section of my life, but buckle up because 2004 brought more life altering moments worthy of telling time and time again. See you in the next chapter.
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