Camp Manitou

Another example of my mom's complicated relationship with her parents... The girls seemed to constantly get shipped off somewhere or another from the youngest of ages....

 Today, I recognize that my young father must have had a hard time of it with Mother's requirements for the upbringing of  four girls. Not only did we have Ethel our dear Nanny, to watch over us,  but we were packed off to day camp in Wilbraham Massachusetts, when I was about four years old, and Marge was probably three. 

When I was nine and Marge was seven, off we went to camp in the Laurentians. We were put on a train from Springfield to Montreal where the grandparents were to meet us. I still remember that the train had hard wooden seats. I imagine the conductor was tipped to look after us, but when we got to White River Junction in Vermont, he wasn't doing his job. Margy and I were allowed to go into the station and buy some candy. Next thing we knew, the train was pulling out of the station, and we weren't on it. I panicked, and ran. I remember the conductor  standing on the back of the train. He must have signaled the engineer, because the train stopped and poor frightened Marge came running and crying. Whew! What would we have done in Vermont by ourselves? I can't imagine how it would be today, casting your children so blithely  off on a train.

Eight hours on the train! I cannot remember how we passed the time. I got a cinder in my eye, and the conductor asked some woman to remove it. It was very painful, but not an uncommon occurrence  on a coal driven steam engine.

I do recall being  disappointed when my Grandfather wasn't at the station to meet us in Montreal. He was such a dear, so tall and so dignified. I remember auntie scolding me for saying,  'What are all the brown spots on your hands? 

  Aunty Alice, always a bit fussy and stern, was waiting. She was upset because I had lost a glove. In those days we wore hats and white gloves when we travelled or went “downtown” or to church.  There was some fuss about it. Auntie insisted on searching the train, and there was quite a commotion. Auntie had a knack of embarrassing us in public over trivia.  It must have been upsetting the train's schedule! I was too tired to care.

We went to my Grandparent's large comfortable house, with its turrets and clutter of art,  books  and well polished silver. The next day we took a bus with a whole hot packet of  children, jammed, three to a double seat, for another long ride, north to Camp Oureau. I remember feeling desperately shy until I met a girl named Marigold. She was squashed next to me. I liked her straw hat, I had never heard such a beautiful name.  There was someone next to her in our seat. She whispered to me not to talk to that girl. She was in the junior camp and we were intermediates. What a comforting gift of superiority. I made sure to ignore the little girl .  Marigold handed me a stick of gum. GUM! The forbidden substance that was never permitted at home.

When we were assigned a cabin, there was Marigold! What a relief!  I would stick with her like chewing gum.  

“What do we do now?” she asked. 

 I remember searching for my sister. A counselor, oh so old, must have been at least seventeen told me to go back to my cabin and she would find her for me. I waited until the supper bell  having missed the afternoon gathering where my name had been read out that I was a member of the Algonquin Tribe. 

At last, I found Margy crying under a tree outside her tent. Her councelor had told her to go to supper.   Terrified by this whole camp experience,  she actually hugged me. I couldn't have been more embarrassed. “Why am I an  Iraquois?

What's an Iroquois? “

No one came looking for me. I could have drowned in the lake for all anybody knew I was there. Later, The counselor for our cabin taught me the cheer for the Algonquins. Very important. 

“Alegonquin! Algonquins

Bravest of the red skins!

Bows arrows tomahawks

Aleeeeeeeeegongquins!!!!!!”

Marge was reluctant to  squeak out her chant. Later, when I knew my way around, I  wended my way through the pine trees to her tent and  made her repeat it until she knew it. The counselor, who felt her position of power appeared and caught us in this heinous crime and took us to be punished by her friend. They broke off branches from a bush and gave us several lashings and sent us off to bed.

“Iroquois! Iraquois!  Out of the West!

“Iraquios! Iraquois! We are the best!

OUR TRIBES NICE AND STRONG

We shout out our song!

Iraquois! Iraquois! We are the Beeeeeeeeeeest!”

The day before we left camp,  all of us  were indoctrinated into proper Indian customs .  In the evening, about one hundred and fifty bewildered little girls straggled together under a cliff like  rock and  gathered around a bonfire  where the great spirit of Manitou, we were told, bade us come. I heard Margy's counselor muttering to her charges, “Any of you kids step out of line, Manitou says,” into the fire you go!” 

The Great Spirit, Manitou, had shared his spirit with the head of our camp, Miss Percy, and she would pass it on to us. In the dusk, she stood silent,   on the peak of the rock, transported by the spirits hovering above her head that only she could see. Her head thrown back, her shoulder bare, and her skinny  arm raised,  she was a ghostly gray apparition bestowing mystical spells  over her subjects. Suddenly, she intoned words we all believed  were Indian,   straight from Manitou,  challenging us to feats of strength. Trying not to speak, we chose partners, then were told to hold one of our  legs up by hand and hop around trying to knock each other over.  We were told to go “woo woo woo”, putting our hands over our mouths and dancing around the fire, imbued with the spirit of  Manitou.  In between our sacred activities we were not allowed to utter a word. Somebody coughed to cover up a laugh, probably a counselor.

Most of us  were  too mesmerized to sort out what was going on.  Finally, in silence, in the dusk, we were herded, single file down to the lake to wave farewell to Miss Percy and the Head girl . They paddled off  in  a canoe to one of the islands,  to spend the night with the GREAT SPIRIT!     This was Miss Percy's yearly ritual. I remember feeling awkward and embarrassed by the whole affair, but as young as I was my chief feeling was not to allow myself to laugh and hurt Miss Percy's feelings, and to spoil the solemn  mystery of Manitou. Manitou might just be watching me.