From left to right: Axel Owen, Owen Aronson, Tim Bergstrom, Andrew Porter (counselor), me (Jim Gibbons) and Brian Swan. In the back, Cabin 10's David Will and Ben McIntyre (Counselor). Photo nabbed from Pete Reckard's Facebook.
I think I’m 11-years-old in this picture. Clearly, at the time, I was an extremely impressive dresser, as are all my compatriots here. Our counselor Andrew Porter was from the Isle of Man in the UK and I consider him to be one of the first truly cool people I have ever known—a title that, disregarding the chronological aspect, I think I likely applied to most Shewahmegon counselors while I attended camp. Andrew played guitar, informed us he was in a band called “Radiohead and the Scabby Donkeys” (the type of outlandish and playful lie you’d hear often at camp) and introduced me (with the help of Australian nurse Steve Guinea) to a song we were frequently regaled with on hiking trips that went a little something like…
There was (Name) (Name)
Looking mighty (word that rhymed with person’s name)
In the store, in the store.There was (Name) (Name)
Looking mighty (word that rhymed with person’s name)
In the Corner Master store.My eyes are dim
They cannot see
I left my glasses in the W.C.I left my glasses in the W. C.!
Andrew, I also realize, taught me that W.C. stands for Water Closet. (A term synonymous with “bathroom” for some Brits and Aussies.) And, if memory serves, Andrew had a shirt that featuring a grenade-like emblem and words that I can’t remember now which had a meaning none of us younger campers, despite numerous guesses, could ever figure out. I presume it was something horribly offensive disguised by British slang—and I have to presume it was more than just a little offensive as we had pretty filthy mouths for a group on 11-year-olds.
At this point, Luis Orduña had not arrived from Toluca, Mexico, to join our cabin yet.
Lastly, memory doesn’t have to play into this reminiscence thanks to the photo, but we were clearly a well-fed group of kids. Look at those chubby cheeks!
Oh, also, I think I wore that St. Louis Cardinals hat (at least, I think it was a Cardinals cap) for 90 percent of the summer.
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Quick notes: If I mention your full name on this blog and you’d prefer I wouldn’t, drop me a line and let me know. I’m at jimgibbons1 [at] gmail [dot] com.
Also, nothing I state here is necessarily fact. I plan to relay stories the way I remember them. Memory is an imperfect thing, so I may get things wrong from time to time. If I do and you know better, comment on the post and help flesh out these long forgotten stories! Thanks!
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Jim Gibbons! Holy Macaroni, I just stumbled on this website and what memories it brings back to me. Such kind words and to repay the compliments I remember you being a fantastic and dependable camper and, yes, you did wear that hat 90% of the summer! Such a pleasure to read your memoirs. I hope you’re well.
Oh, and the phrase you couldn’t remember…..?
Call The Limo Papa