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October 30, 2009 |
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Letter from Camp
FOUND by Emily
in Canada
I found this old letter a while ago while searching through old recipes. Since there's no date on this letter, it's hard to tell when he wrote it. It's also funny because, since he wrote it on the last day (not considering how long the mail takes), I know he didn't write that letter because he wanted to be picked up (otherwise he'd have written it sooner).
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We collect FOUND stuff: love letters, birthday cards, kids' homework,
to-do lists, ticket stubs, poetry on napkins, telephone bills, doodles -
anything that gives a glimpse into someone
else's life. Anything goes...
I like Emily's convoluted description of when it was written.
1) I don't know when it was written because there's no date.
2) It's hard to tell when he wrote it.
3) He wrote it on the last day.
4) He didn't write that letter.
5) Otherwise he'd have written it sooner.
So my guess is Emily wrote the letter and is a horrible liar.
It's not a letter, it's a note. This isn't even a postcard or notelet format, it's a scrap of paper.
How many kids say "Dear Mom" and then end "From Dave To Ellen"? Nah, I think this is a joke note that got passed in dining hall, or even at school.
Is that a portrait of Ellen, Dave, or Mom down there at the bottom? Either way, it looks like the writer was either a) exploring those 'interesting' mushrooms around camp before drawing, or b) writing from a Halloween costume-making camp.
...or, wait a second, maybe it's "From Dave/To" [that's his name: "Dave/To"] and the "Ellen" part is the portrait label.
Ellen is a frightening scarecrow.
Dave is the stepdad; Ellen is the mom. The kid goes to camp and Dave expects unbridled passion from Ellen for a week without the kid under foot. Instead, Ellen mopes about because her kid isn't writing. Dave tries to assure her: "Honey, it's because he's having so much fun." Ellen isn't buying it. She's distressed. Dave creates the cute drawing to cheer her up. She is so impressed she slides it into her recipe book. Here's to renewed passion next summer...
Hey all, Emily here....I didn't say that my brother Dave didn't write the letter, because he did. What I said was, his reasons for writing the letter probably had nothing to do with actually wanting to be picked up from camp, because if he'd wanted to be picked up, he would have written it earlier in the session. Also, I know that he did write it, because I remember our mom (that'd be Ellen), finding it pretty hilarious when she got it. I just wasn't sure what year it was, because our summers at camp were kind of a blur. Oh, and one more thing--in our family, we call our parents by their first names. As for the drawing, Ellen made up her own "logo" of herself when she was a teenager, and it's kind of stuck ever since, so Dave probably drew that to poke fun at this "logo" phenomenon. As for the date being missing.....come on, who doesn't remember being a kid in the summertime, when all the days seemed to run together? It was especially true at camp, because we did the same kinds of things every day, so that's why "LAST DAY" was sufficient as a measure of time for my brother. Bear in mind that he was just a kid.
Emily,
You don't have to defend yourself to me. I believed you.
Besides, you're Canadian. And we all know Canadians never lie!
Delightful find by the way.
I wanted to write that very same letter in 1967, but I'd still be hearing about it today...
Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda,
Here I am in Camp Wawanda...
(That's probably not quite right, but it's the best I can do at this moment.)
Oh, so your brother wrote the letter, Emily? I was a bit confused.
In my experience, summer camp is overrated. My B&W Brownie Box Camera photos make everyone look like we're havin' the best of times.. chopping wood, eating from mess kits, learning to tie knots, gluing dried beans on boards to make designs, stitching leather wallets with strips of colored vinyl, feeding the goats, canoeing in the "lake" (in reality it was a pond).
It's fun to remember, but it wasn't so fun being there: six girls to a noisy cabin and not getting enough sleep, getting side-aches on hikes, rising to the chimes of the mess hall bell, lining up in the morning rain for the raising of the flag, doing chores (the one everyone hated most was scrubbing out the "Suzies" with Pine Sol -- which had to be good enough to pass inspections.) Sometimes it rained the entire week - this was the Pacific NW before global warming.
My favorite part was singing the Camp Fire songs and making up a skit to perform on the last night.
Hey.. I guess it was pretty fun, after all. Glad I did it.
Clover in the Lawn: "Camp Granada" by Allan Sherman (1963)
Hello muddah, hello faddah
Here I am at Camp Granada
Camp is very entertaining
And they say we'll have some fun if it stops raining.
I went hiking with Joe Spivy
He developed poison ivy
You remember Leonard Skinner
He got ptomaine poisoning last night after dinner.
All the counselors hate the waiters
And the lake has alligators
And the head coach wants no sissies
So he reads to us from something called Ulysses.
How I don't want this should scare ya
But my bunkmate has malaria
You remember Jeffrey Hardy
They're about to organize a searching party.
Take me home, oh muddah, faddah
Take me home, I hate Granada
Don't leave me out in the forest where
I might get eaten by a bear.
Take me home I promise I will not make noise
Or mess the house with other boys.
Oh please don't make me stay
I've been here one whole day.
Dearest faddah, darling muddah,
How's my precious little bruddah
Let me come home, if you miss me
I would even let Aunt Bertha hug and kiss me.
Wait a minute, it's stopped hailing.
Guys are swimming, guys are sailing
Playing baseball, gee that's better
Muddah, faddah kindly disregard this letter.
ohh...you all beat me to the Alan Sherman song...
I wrote the same letter to my mom when I was 9. I was sent to Girl Scout camp and had a terrible time. She saved the letter and showed it to me years later..what a hoot!
**Applaud**
Yay, Allan Sherman! awesome, that did cheer me up that did, I do love this website
I used to have that Allan Sherman song memorized. I remember asking my mother about the Ulysses reference and being disappointed by not really getting any sort of answer.
Which is probably better than me trying now to make some obscure reference to a professional football player named Dave not liking rookie camp.
Loved the song, too, but never knew what ptomaine poisoning was until I was an adult.
Emily ruined it.
Don't feel bad, HPD...we have no actual evidence that's really Emily, anyway.
I do remember Joe Spivy, but I don't remember Leonard Skinnerd. Anyway, the song wisked me back to that terrible week at Camp Pottawatomie.
This doesn't even seem like a real find, she said grumpily. How old was Dave at camp, anyway? 19?
Three cheers for Propagandhi (Newbie) in UK, who has the best posting name I've seen in a big long while!
(tay lizardo, lizard bits in a blender, tingle boyjohnson, and .o0(in a thought bubble) being some of my other faves. None of them are around anymore. Hope you stick with us, Propagandhi! Welcome)
I'm with Journalist...is it a "find" if it was generated by a family member and you "found" it in your own recipe box at home? Especially if you remember every detail of its creation? There are many things I could "find" in the drawers of my own cabinets...but since I put them there, I don't think they qualify.
Diffrent strokes.
After my beloved Grandmother passed away last year, some family members were looking through some of her cook books, which were actually kind of like journals or scrapbooks. Overstuffed books oozing clipped and saved recipes, newspaper articles, funny pictures saved throughout the years. I don't think anyone had EVER really looked through her books. If we wanted a recipe for something, SHE would Find it for us.
There in the middle of it all was a receipt from the dime store (dated!) and on it, a little "3-year-old-me" had drawn kitty cats for G-Ma. There was some little phrase, too, but I don't remember now what it said.
I wouldn't ever send it in to Found Magazine, but I consider it a Find. So YEAH. When you're all grown up and stumble upon something from the Land of Ago that someone else Found worthy of hanging onto for untold years on end-- whether it's family, friends, or the crazy housebound hermit-man at the end of the road-- it's a Find.
Oh Yeah. It's also a Find if the Found Editors and the Find Authenticator 3000 say so.
You mean it wasn't Lynrd Skynrd in that song?