My second group of students arrived. I like them. I don't love them, but it has only been a few hours, and it took me a few hours more than a few hours to love my last group.
And did I ever love that last group. They were swell. I want to describe them before they defer into the vaults of memory–becoming periphery to this current group simply because of time, the fourth dimension, described by a boy on the last trip as a "flat-bed train that moves under a person. You are stationery, but the train always moves along. You can't stop it or turn it around," or something like that.
Where to begin? How 'bout with OCBs, or open crib bangers. Open crib bangers was a term that, before I truly understood it, I didn't much like considering its somewhat, er, crass connotation, and considering my job as camp leader is creating a exceptionally fun, exceptionally PG environment.
However, after I first experienced an open crib banger, my distaste for the phrase was irrevocably changed into a taste.
Before I begin describing the transcendent experience that was my first OCB, I should mention that I tried to delay its launch a few minutes past its scheduled 8:55 PM opening because all the campers weren't in the room. But I couldn't delay it, as much as I begged. The hosts were adamant that such a sacrilegious act as delaying an OCB, even if for a mere two minutes, would undoubtedly upset the otherwise peaceful spirits that govern such things as our camp, the world, the Universe, and whether it's grammatically correct to write PM or p.m. or pee 'em. Thus, my first OCB started right on time, at 8:55 pee 'em, sharper than that Cabot cheese called Seriously Sharp Cheddar.
The first order of business in an OCB is an opening speech, obviously. That was led by a gentle giant aka the self-professed beast titan. (He didn't call himself beast titan; I just made that up for good kicks.) Gentle giant aka beast titan did a stellar job of appeasing the spirits in his opening speech, and then he transitioned smoothly, naturally–as if he'd hosted countless open crib bangers–into an otherworldly meditation period that began promptly at 8:57 and was three minutes of silent, lucubratory reverie. During that time, I felt the energy of the room soar to a climactic frenzy, and it continued to build as each of the seconds ticked by.
At 8:59, I was informed either by the spirits or a girl named Lauren (co-leader shout-out since I'm wary of naming students on the blurg) that the C part of OCB stood for crazy dancing, and it would begin at 9:00, not a moment after. I held up my phone and all of us intently watched the time, waiting for those big, bold numbers that read 8:59 to click to 9:00. And when they did–utter mayhem. Reckless abandon. Crazy dancing.
Gentle giant aka beast titan took his shirt off and picked up a person. Or maybe it was five people; the careening, carefree, even cleansing dancing made seeing solids difficult. It was also pitch dark in the room. Luckily for our fragile bodies that we were putting through such raw expression, the dancing lasted only forty-five seconds, or maybe it was eternity.
At 9:00:40, a frenetic period of hiding, in preparation for a quick game of hide-and-seek, took place. I was the first found, still recovering from the zaniness of my first banger. So I went back into the OCB room. I waited. I looked out a window and saw stars peak out from behind a fat cloud. They twinkled. I knew the spirits had been appeased.
As the sought sifted into the room, I knew that they had been appeased as well. They had kissed the sound a hummingbird makes as it drinks sweet nectar from those hummingbird feeders. They had laughed until tears poured forth. They had danced like their feet were ablaze. They had hid like being found would make a thousand splendid penguins painfully thirsty. And it was unifying and all things bright and beautiful and the epitome of delightful whimsy.
We had a second OCB exactly forty-eight hours after the first one. It was not as transcendent as the first one. Greatness can be imitated but not duplicated, like childhood.
And did I ever love that last group. They were swell. I want to describe them before they defer into the vaults of memory–becoming periphery to this current group simply because of time, the fourth dimension, described by a boy on the last trip as a "flat-bed train that moves under a person. You are stationery, but the train always moves along. You can't stop it or turn it around," or something like that.
Where to begin? How 'bout with OCBs, or open crib bangers. Open crib bangers was a term that, before I truly understood it, I didn't much like considering its somewhat, er, crass connotation, and considering my job as camp leader is creating a exceptionally fun, exceptionally PG environment.
However, after I first experienced an open crib banger, my distaste for the phrase was irrevocably changed into a taste.
Before I begin describing the transcendent experience that was my first OCB, I should mention that I tried to delay its launch a few minutes past its scheduled 8:55 PM opening because all the campers weren't in the room. But I couldn't delay it, as much as I begged. The hosts were adamant that such a sacrilegious act as delaying an OCB, even if for a mere two minutes, would undoubtedly upset the otherwise peaceful spirits that govern such things as our camp, the world, the Universe, and whether it's grammatically correct to write PM or p.m. or pee 'em. Thus, my first OCB started right on time, at 8:55 pee 'em, sharper than that Cabot cheese called Seriously Sharp Cheddar.
The first order of business in an OCB is an opening speech, obviously. That was led by a gentle giant aka the self-professed beast titan. (He didn't call himself beast titan; I just made that up for good kicks.) Gentle giant aka beast titan did a stellar job of appeasing the spirits in his opening speech, and then he transitioned smoothly, naturally–as if he'd hosted countless open crib bangers–into an otherworldly meditation period that began promptly at 8:57 and was three minutes of silent, lucubratory reverie. During that time, I felt the energy of the room soar to a climactic frenzy, and it continued to build as each of the seconds ticked by.
At 8:59, I was informed either by the spirits or a girl named Lauren (co-leader shout-out since I'm wary of naming students on the blurg) that the C part of OCB stood for crazy dancing, and it would begin at 9:00, not a moment after. I held up my phone and all of us intently watched the time, waiting for those big, bold numbers that read 8:59 to click to 9:00. And when they did–utter mayhem. Reckless abandon. Crazy dancing.
Gentle giant aka beast titan took his shirt off and picked up a person. Or maybe it was five people; the careening, carefree, even cleansing dancing made seeing solids difficult. It was also pitch dark in the room. Luckily for our fragile bodies that we were putting through such raw expression, the dancing lasted only forty-five seconds, or maybe it was eternity.
At 9:00:40, a frenetic period of hiding, in preparation for a quick game of hide-and-seek, took place. I was the first found, still recovering from the zaniness of my first banger. So I went back into the OCB room. I waited. I looked out a window and saw stars peak out from behind a fat cloud. They twinkled. I knew the spirits had been appeased.
As the sought sifted into the room, I knew that they had been appeased as well. They had kissed the sound a hummingbird makes as it drinks sweet nectar from those hummingbird feeders. They had laughed until tears poured forth. They had danced like their feet were ablaze. They had hid like being found would make a thousand splendid penguins painfully thirsty. And it was unifying and all things bright and beautiful and the epitome of delightful whimsy.
We had a second OCB exactly forty-eight hours after the first one. It was not as transcendent as the first one. Greatness can be imitated but not duplicated, like childhood.