packing -- small clutter -- church camp

Packing has begun. First, it's the littles. All the things I haven't quite the heart to give away or otherwise dispose of -- I mark these boxes "small clutter". If one of them is lost, I will only miss the contents momuntarily and then only if I ever remember that item.

items like:





Little cast iron stove and rocking chair that I bought when I was 17 and away at Christian camp. Yes, I went away to Christian camp. I loved it. We woke early, met for flag-raising and prayer and went to breakfast and then to chapel and then we worked until lunch. I hlped break up rocks for the driveway and I helped brush the horses and I helped hoe the corn. I loved it.

Then there were prayers and lunch and then we had the afternoon to swim, play volleyball, ride horses and meander along the mountain paths. I loved it.

Then evening, the best time of all, we dressed for church. I had long dresses to wear -- it was lovely. A little preacher named Ray something-or-other, who called himself "God's little messenger boy" and he was rather happy and delightful. We would meander back from chapel and go to the saloon. It really looked like a saloon, but of course, they didn't serve alchohol. We'd order whatever we wanted that we could afford and someone would be raucous and tell jokes. I had my own tribe because we came together. Jennifer McNeil, Jose Guzman, Loraine McNeil and several other folks from the East High School's Christian club. We met new friends too -- it was easy to do because I was with a group and so those who befriended one became the friends of all. I made an enemy too, because that's half the fun. Her name I forget, but she had a cool sister. She was bitchy and snarly and kept "sort-of" calling me a liar, but not really -- so you couldn't defend yourself or you would end up sounding like you really were a liar. I told stories about "back home" and she suggested that I'd maybe read Christy one too many times.

I did learn a song from her though and thought it was lovely -- I played in on my guitar: "Traveling down the trails together, Jesus Christ, my Lord and i -- I never walk alone since Jesus is my own..." and more words I've forgotten - the tune was pure cowboy and fit just right with the whole "Miracle Mountain Ranch" experience.

On my last day there, it rained and we were inside the saloon and I had a bit of change left and I looked around at everyone and memorized them and bought the little stove and rocking chair. They are salt and pepper shakers, but I've never used them for that. They sit on an available window sill and are forgotten until I move to a new place. Then I wrap them and pack them with other small things and mark the box "small clutter".  I will think of them again when I unpack in some other place and place them reverently, lovingly on the windowsill, recalling the borrowed tribe, Jose, Jennifer, Linda, Lorraine, the girl who called everything "decent" and of course my enemy. Ah... good times.