The Wilderness

Therefore, it was a very early Saturday morning when I found myself kissing a sleepy Paul goodbye in the dark, before embarking on the six-hour drive to the summer camp and canoe base. I was excited, but anxious. The weather was beautiful as the sun came up, and I found myself enjoying the drive with the windows wide open as I realized I was alone for the first time in many years, able to sing at the top of my lungs to the music of my girlhood. A grin on my face, I was relishing one last crazy adventure before I became a mother. For some reason, I felt a huge sense of relief settle over me. The constant stress of my everyday life forgotten, at least for a few weeks.

Making good time, I stopped at a couple roadside stands to stretch my legs and browse trinkets, local produce and fruit. I even treated myself to a meal of fried chicken and a strawberry milkshake during a gas stop, consoling myself that I'd soon be working off the calories with all-day paddling and boring dinners of overcooked campfire pasta-mixed-with-sand-and-bugs.

Turning off the highway five hours later, I pulled onto a gravel and dust-filled country road for 20 miles, keeping vigilant for signs nailed to trees along the route indicating the way to the camp. After 45 minutes of almost getting lost three times, I pulled through a forested valley into a large campground nestled by the shore of a huge lake.

The camp was much larger than I expected. With six large rustic wood buildings and about 20 smaller sleeping cabins, numerous racks of canoes along the water, and a line of three ancient school buses with cut-off roofs which had been converted into people and canoe transports, the place was teaming with kids and adults obviously having a great time. You could tell from the buzz in the air and splashing water that this was a happy place. After a couple inquiries, I was directed to an old lodge hall that served as the offices, kitchen, and main dining hall.

Entering the lodge was just what I expected. An ancient open-beamed room with dark log walls covered in hundreds of black-and-white group photos of happy campers, documenting the generations who had come before. I snickered at the fashion and hairstyles of the kids who today were no doubt grandparents.

After a polite knock at the door labeled 'OFFICE', I pushed through into a warm and sunny room decorate with stuffed fish, fishing rods, snowshoes and canoe paddles mounted on the walls, a large log-hewn couch with red-check plaid cushions, and a standing lamp made from deer antlers in one corner beside a wall of old-fashioned metal filing cabinets. Behind a huge wooden desk sat a tall elderly man, who looked up at me upon entering, jumped up and ran around the desk to grab me into a bear hug!

A little surprised at this effusive welcome, he smiled and said, "You must be Taylor. I am so happy to meet you. You have really saved our bacon.......... Vegan bacon that is!", before breaking into a hearty laugh....and then a racking coughing spell. Finally recovering himself, I eventually caught on to the joke, a jab at the Yuppie All-Organic Soccer Moms of my school who would soon be descending upon us.

To reinforce his point he said, "They've been complaining for twenty years that I need to get an expresso machine for the camp kitchen. Over my dead body! Admittedly, that may be only a few years away........ but not today!"

I laughed so hard I almost peed myself, helped no doubt by the last three hours of driving, two coffees and two bottles of water, and a Diet Coke. After excusing myself to use the surprisingly clean and modern toilets, I walked back into Dave's office feeling completely at home, like I'd been coming here for years.

Dave picked up a small walkie-talkie radio on his desk and spoke into it:

"Bo. Can you find that no-good grandson of mine and post-haste your asses up to the office to meet your new boss-lady!"

I didn't understand the reply that crackled over the radio, but Dave stood and said, "Let's get your stuff to the female staff bunky, since 'urgent' for those boys usually means 'sometime over the next hour'."

Insisting that I would carry my own gear, which earned me an approving look from Dave, we chatted amiably about my outdoor experience and walked across the busy campground, around a large open sports field, to a quiet and private staff area in the woods with male and female dormitories separated by a concrete block house with bathrooms, showers, laundry, kitchenette and covered eating area.

Being early afternoon, no one was about, but Dave insisted he would wait outside in the common area while I entered the female housing, not knowing who might be resting or getting changed. Despite the rustic and laidback atmosphere of the camp, I was impressed with the professional operation and modern facilities. These people were professionals, and I was a bit intimidated to be joining them. I hoped I could live up to their standards.

Dropping my gear onto an obviously unused bunk, I returned outside to find Dave on his radio again, wrapping up a conversation. As I approached, he looked up.

"Well, I guess this is the ONE time this year that I'll be proven wrong!", he said with an impish grin. "The boys are already at my office".

Following the well-maintained camp path back to the main area, we returned to find his office empty.

"Probably raiding the kitchen!", proved to be accurate as not a minute later the sounds of muffled voices and lumbering boots stomped down the wooden hallway, the "boys" entered the office deep in grunted conversation, mouths stuffed full of sandwich, a spare in each hand. A joint "whullowe", accompanied by half eaten sandwich falling out of their mouths, earning them an exasperated glare from Dave.

Emphasizing a sarcastic "Gentlemen.......", he added, "This is Mrs. Wilson. She will be the staff and safety representative on the school excursion this year. Try not to embarrass me any further than you already have! Say hello and introduce yourselves."

Taking the initiative while they quickly gulped down a full mouth, I stepped up with an extended hand,

"Please. Call me Taylor. It's so nice to meet you. I can't tell you how relieved I am you gentlemen will be coming along. This is my first time on this trip and must admit I'm a bit nervous."

I confess to some surprise. These "boys" were actually young men in their early-to-mid 20's. Obviously "finishing school" meant university. A sense of relief and trepidation filled me. On one hand, I wouldn't need to babysit them as I had feared, having expected younger teenage boys. On the other hand, I questioned what my role and authority would be over these "men", obviously more experienced with the area and trip logistics of this trip than I.

I immediately saw the family resemblance in the boy on the right. Easily 6'1", a blond flop of hair, blue eyed and broad shouldered, a big goofy grin, his normally pale Scandinavian heritage now tanned dark brown after a month in the water and sun. Davey (actually David Thompson, the 3rd) was the spitting image of his grandfather of 50 years earlier.

However, as handsome as Davey was, his companion was even more striking. Embo was the darkest black man I'd ever seen. Obviously of recent African descent, "Bo", towered over Davey, easily 6'4" or taller, shaved completely bald, with a lean-but-powerful frame. He seemed about to burst from his cut-off jean shorts and Staff t-shirt.

I was a little ashamed to fixate immediately on the bright white teeth of his huge smile, contrasting against his coal black skin and the bright pink pigment of his palms as he extended his hand to shake mine. Snapping out of my shock, his rich and smooth baritone voice immitted the most surprising Posh upper-class British accent with a "My very great pleasure, Madame".

Still speechless, in a daze I shook his hand without thinking, aware that my lifetime claims of being 'race blind' were being put to the test. In truth, my relatively sheltered upbringing in middle America hadn't prepared me for the young man before me.

In the past, there had been times when I was embarrassed by my husband's views on race, gender, and religion. Though I knew Paul was loving, compassionate and kind, I'll admit his views on Blacks and Hispanics, on gays and lesbians, on Jews, Muslims, and Catholics, made me uncomfortable.

It's not like he didn't believe they had a right to exist, but it was clear his opinion was that the way they led their lives was wrong, misguided, or inferior in his world view. It took me a while to accept this difference of opinion and I always prided myself that I wasn't that way. After all, I had a number of close African-American friends, had briefly dated both Jewish and Catholic guys and, to top it all off, we were about adopt a little girl who was coming from an Muslim country. She would grow up to have dark hair and eyes and an olive complexion, nothing like my husband and me. Surely, I was immune to issues of race, sexism, and xenophobia?

Nevertheless, before me was the personification of an African Man and I felt like a deer in the headlights. I didn't feel fear, or revulsion, or superiority. Just surprise and fascination. His ebony skin brightly radiated light and life. He was breathtaking.

Trying to recover my senses without humiliating myself further, I looked around to note that everyone in the room was watching me with amusement. It was obvious that this was not the first time that he'd had this effect when meeting new people.

"Embo is from Nigeria, via Oxford University near London, England. His father is a senior government minister in his home country and Embo is studying forestry sciences here in the USA", explained Grandpa Dave.

"Davey and I met my first day of university and have been best mates since. Bloody good thing I'd say to, as someone needs to keep him on schedule lest he kip through ALL his classes", said Bo, pronouncing 'schedule' the British way as "SHedule", and not the American "SKedule". It was charming.

Davey interjected, "I even went to Africa for the first-time last summer. It was an amazing experience! I can't wait to go back."

After some all-around introductions, it was agreed that we'd meet tomorrow morning after breakfast to go over the trip plan and logistics. As the boys scurried off, Dave took me to meet various people who kept the place running, especially Mrs. O'Donohue, camp cook and all-around surrogate grandmother. Mary O'Donohue had been working every summer at the camp for almost 40 years. Supervising a crew of five other cook staff, she was busy getting ready for the evening meal service but promised to stop by the staff quarters later that evening to chat with me about food planning.

I was quickly engulfed by almost 100 hungry campers of various ages, pleasantly surprised that the meal choices were more than burgers, pizza and chicken nuggets. Despite Dave's grumpy curmudgeon act, they even had vegetarian, gluten-free and vegan options.

Obviously warned of my arrival, a group of college-aged girls wearing 'staff' polo shirts, river sandals, shorts or bathing suit bottoms, corralled me and introduced themselves as my bunk mates, escorting me to the staff tables in the back of the dining hall. A cacophony of giggles, laughing and cross conversations overwhelmed me, as I gave up any hope of remembering the names I'd been told. I admired their raw energy, optimism, and joy of life. All of them wore the fresh beauty and vitality of their youth, despite the smudges of mud, chipped fingernail polish and stray strands of hair escaping ponytails. Wistfully I recalled, that had been me only a decade before.

As our meal ended, a conversation started indicating that some of the staff still had 'after dinner entertainment' duties with the younger campers and groaned as they rose to prepare for another 3-4 hours' work, to the teasing and ridicule of their friends now 'off the clock'. The girl next to me, Cindy I believe, tugged on my arm, and said,

"Come on, Taylor. NOW, the fun begins".

Dropping off our trays at the kitchen pass-through, we walked back to the staff area, surviving a gauntlet of good-natured cats calls from the equal number of male staff. However, the girls confidently gave as good as they got, hurling insults and middle-finger salutes back at the boys, clearly friendly teasing between the sexes.

After getting cleaned up and setting up my bunk area, I chatted with my new roommates as the late evening sun began to set everyone adjourned outside to a large crackling fire pit ringed by an odd assortment of chairs, makeshift benches, and logs. The young staff appeared to naturally break into smaller groups as a relaxed evening was well earned after a hard day of work and fun. I sat marveling at the happiness and carefree lives before me, feeling guilty at my churlishness, looking at the young women thinking 'Enjoy it while you can'.

Scanning the group, I saw Davey and Bo sitting with a mixed group of guys and girls, just outside the ring of firelight, obviously laughing and enjoying each other's company.

Feeling a tap of my shoulder, I turned to find Mary O'Donohue sitting down into the empty Adirondack chair next to me, a bottle of wine and two real wine glasses in her hand. Smiling at the kids, she said to me.

"Takes you back, doesn't it? Oh, to be that age again. But truth be told, I wouldn't trade places. Life is so much more complicated for kids nowadays.... especially the girls. In my day, there were rules and norms. A young lady knew what was expected and permitted. More restrictive perhaps, but less ambiguous. Now, sometimes I'm shocked at what comes out of the mouths of 13- and 14-year-olds. Nothing rude, mind. Just things about life I didn't know or understand until I was well into my 20's and married to my first husband."

With this, Mary and I proceeded to chat well into the evening like we'd been old friends forever. My escape from my everyday life .... and the bottle of wine...... all contributed to me sharing my life story with Mary. She listened with empathy and understanding, which I found comforting. As the evening deepened, I was feeling like a new woman, ready to face both the short-term (the canoe trip) and longer-term (Paul and our relationship) challenges with new energy and optimism. Around us, the carefree soundtrack of youth carried on, while we Women, wiser with age and experience, tackled the realities of life.

Intentionally deciding to move on to happier topics, Mary sent Bo off to her office for a second bottle of wine. I confess at the time I was a little taken aback that she'd sent the "black butler" on an errand, but she anticipated my unspoken observation to explain that only Bo was over 21 amongst this group, as required by state law to handle alcohol ...... and she only trusted him to have a key to her office. The second bottle of wine went down just as smoothly and I finally stumbled back to my bunk around 1:00am, noticing that half the bunks in the female dormitory were still empty. I smiled imagining where and what they might be doing, not a little jealous I sheepishly admitted to myself.

As is my habit, I awoke early with the sunrise. Despite too few hours of sleep and too much wine, I was anxious to get outside to the lake to watch the dawning day. Tiptoeing my way quietly out of the bunk area, now fully occupied with sleeping forms huddled under blankets, I carefully navigated a floor full of discarded shoes and clothing, while a dozen lights of charging cellphones blinked at me in the gloom.

Carefully opening the screened door, I stepped into the morning daybreak, deeply inhaling the pine-scented fresh air. Walking to the water, I stood along the shore watching the morning fog rise off the lake, the sound of a Loon off in the distance.

Reflecting on the last few years of tension, anger, and sadness in my life, I was stuck by the perfectly calm paradise I now found myself in and the rejuvenating effect on my soul. I think I sighed aloud, feeling a small tear of happiness begin to sting my eye.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Startled, I turned to find Davey standing a few feet next to me. I hadn't even heard him approach. Obviously back from a run, he stood in running shoes and nylon running shorts only. His bare skin flushed, he glistened with sweat as he pulled out his earbuds and inserted them into the armband carrying his phone on a muscular bicep.

"My earliest memories are of coming here as a kid. I thought I'd get tired of it, but I never have. I frequently stop here in the middle of a hectic day, just looking and listening in peace for a few seconds. It centers me.", said Davey as he looked dreamily out over the lake.

Suddenly embarrassed, he looked at me and sheepishly said.

"Sorry. A little too deep for this time in the morning, I know."

"No! I know EXACTLY how you feel", smiling at him and touching his arm in reassurance, when he continued.

"My grandfather says I'm an old soul. When I was a kid, I used to wish I was older so that I could be cool and party with the staff. Now that I am that age, I wish I was younger again. I love working here with all the other guys and girls, but I find many of them immature and silly. It's frustrating that most of them are here just to party, more than work. Don't get me wrong. I like to have fun just as much as the next guy. But we are working in this amazing place, and most of them haven't even noticed! Never stopped to take a real look around. For them it's about making a few bucks and chasing pussy.........."

Suddenly catching himself from his absent-minded reverie, he turned away from me, deeply embarrassed, turning beet red, a look of alarm on his face.

I laughed and reassured him, "Relax Davey. Remember, I'm a married woman, former nurse, and a teacher. There is NOTHING you can say or do that will shock me. It's only natural to be attracted to some of these young women."

Taking on a mock tone of offence, I then playfully punched him in the shoulder and said,

".....And anyway, I'm not that old, you know!!! I well remember what kids your age are doing! Not too long ago, I was doing the same! It's perfectly normal. Don't let this time in your life slip by. It will be gone before you know it."

As his worry quickly subsided, I continued.

"Besides, some of those girls ARE hotties. And, based on the underwear and boxes of condoms I saw strewn about the women's bathroom, I think I have a good idea of what goes on here after dark".

I teased him with a smirk and raised eyebrow, at which he burst into laughter at my unexpected boldness. Something clicked, and I could feel I had a new friend.

To seal my Laid-Back-Cool-Adult-Status, I continued,

"Anyway, I feel a little underprepared. Based on what I saw last night, I way under packed on the skimpy lingerie, booty shorts, and I forgot my Beer-Pong t-shirt at home", as we both broke out into simultaneous smirks and eye-rolls.

"You know, you are pretty cool, Mrs. Wilson" he said in between giggles.

"Taylor, remember!", I said.

"Taylor, yes, sorry".

After one last gaze out over the lake, he turned to me and said,

"Well, I better get cleaned up. It's going to be a busy day. See you at breakfast."

At which he walked off, me now noticing the muffled sounds of the camp just starting to come to life. As he left, I caught myself absentmindedly watching his glistening body move away with animal grace and ease. I felt a shiver course through me, unable to explain the meaning of it.

One of the first to the dining hall, I got a smile and wave from Mary back in the kitchen, firmly directing her staff to the expected deluge of ravenous campers, the smell of coffee, bacon, pancakes, and other breakfast staples more effective than any alarm clock in waking the camp.