The Mushrooms

She loved to go mushroom hunting

With Father or the counselors

But especially with Father

Walking through the woods

She learned how to spot them

Hidden in the leaves by the trees

She liked the earthy smell and

Enjoyed their taste in the soups

And gravies the cooks would make

Father double checked

To make sure she didn't pick

Any poisonous ones

She always had him check

Before giving them to the cooks

Or cutting them up and

Laying them out on the

Window sill to dry to

Take home to her mother

Funny that her mother

Never used the mushrooms

She brought home

© Alice Vedral Rivera - 2010

Reconnaissance  

Her ability to

Move through the forest

Without being seen

Without being heard

Was uncanny

Silent and swift she

Was hard to spot

Weaving through the

Trees - climbing them

When it suited her

Privy to secret

Conversations between

Priests and counselors

Eavesdropping on plans

To raid the girls' camp

Gathering intel

Worthy of a master

Spy proved that being

A confirmed tomboy

Clearly had its perks

© Alice Vedral Rivera - 2010 

The New Cabins

Her first year at camp

The boy's tents disappeared

One after the other

Replaced by cabins

Slowly but surely

Volunteers sawed

Fitted, hammered

And nailed

Everyone was drafted

Into this army of

Amateur carpenters

Children and adults

Even the littlest ones

Assisted in building

These three windowed

Three bed shelters

The cost - a few minor

Cuts, bruises, smashed thumbs

The reward - pride in

New accomplishments

Elegance compared

To the romanticism

Of leaky green tents

On wooden platforms

Her second year the

Girls were the happy

Participants/recipients

Of hand made luxury

 © Alice Vedral Rivera - 2010

Evading Capture

The rest of the group

Took the main road

Back to camp

Afraid of taking the

Shortcut through the

Woods at night

They ran right into

Father waiting

To catch them

Coming back from

Sneaking out to

Visit the store

Play the juke box

Buy candy and have  

A bit of fun

She had veered off

Took the shortcut

No flashlight

To avoid detection

Just in case Father

Checked this path

Like he had the last

Time when she followed

Behind him

She had purposely

Left the rear cabin

Window open

Climbed through it

Revealed pajamas

Beneath clothes

Jumped into sleeping bag

Just as Father –- out of breath

Opened the door

© Alice Vedral Rivera - 2010

A Shrewd Move

Her 'don't mess with me

Or my little brother'

Attitude served her

Purpose more than once

Checking on the welfare

Of her younger brother

The excuse for her

Presence in the boys' camp

Her agility

At climbing trees

Helped her gain their  

Grudging respect

Ultimately she was

The only girl allowed

Free access to the boys'

Inner sanctum

A seriously

Shrewd move on her part

That paid in spades of

Useful information

© Alice Vedral Rivera -2010

The Hunger Strike

An extra 100 points

Enticed her to

Participate

No one managed to

Complete the no

Talking strike

Especially not her

But not eating -

Piece of cake

Many times she was

Forced to finish

Her meals

She could even resist

Chocolate for

24 hours

But Father was sneaky

Special instructions

For the cooks

The aroma of cooking

Blueberries wafted

Through the camp

Blueberries for breakfast

Lunch and dinner

Tempting her

Blueberry dumplings

Blueberry slices

Blueberry crepes

Salivating all day

She surrendered

At dinner

© Alice Vedral Rivera - 2010

Lac Duffy

Short hike to Lac Duffy

No beach just trees,

Bushes, dirt and rocks

Vegetation brushing

Against toothpick legs

Squishy mud between the toes

Short for her age

Father threw her into

Deep dark water

To avoid drowning

She learned to swim

The hard way

In the leech

Infested waters of

The yucky deep

© Alice Vedral Rivera - 2010

The Unpleasant Punishment    

Everyone was already

Seated at the long tables

In the enclosed

Porch-like dining area

Father called her to

Come to his office

Next to the kitchen

Behind the veranda

Silence as she obeyed

Knowing she was

To be punished for

Climbing the Big Pine

With the ace bandage

Wrapped in a

Figure eight around

Her slight shoulders

Her collarbone felt fine

Climbing trees had been

A forbidden but not

Acquiesced to activity

Father took out the

Karabac* - a piece of

Bungee cord he used to

Enforce discipline

She stood there trembling

Father ordered her to

Yell when he hit the table

With the karabac*

Relieved she yelled

As loud as she could

Yet she still needed

To be punished

Father grabbed the

Brown shoe polish and

Painted her face with

It and iodine

Brown and red streaks

Marked her cheeks    

Warrior style

For over a week

© Alice Vedral Rivera - 2010

* karabac - pronounced carabotch (cara as in cara mia)

My muse has decided it’s time to add new poems to the camp series – so here is a new poem:

The Beautiful Leech

The Camp Series was written about my experiences at Camp Hostýn in 1961 & 1962.  Camp Hostýn was about 50 miles outside of Montreal – the closest town was St. Calixte du Nord.  It was founded in 1954 by Father Bohuslav Janicek, a Czech Jesuit, for children of Czech and Slovak descent.  I almost didn’t get to go to camp in 1961 as I tried to swing on a clothesline and cracked my collarbone about a week before we (my younger brother and I) took Greyhound buses from Chicago to Montreal. 

The very first ‘publication’ of my poetry was in the official camp ‘pamphlet’ in 1962 (I was 11, the poems were in Czech).  Both poems were republished in the 1979 25^th anniversary issue.  I was the first (perhaps the only?) former camper to send her children to Camp Hostýn.    The poem, ‘The Legend’ was inspired by my re-climbing the Big Pine the year we picked up my younger son, and after listening to his recounting of camp lore, I realized he was talking about my exploits totally unaware that he was talking about his mother.   I really should add a poem about my pet leech to the series and about the fact that I was the only girl allowed in the boys’ camp (all recounted in camp lore stories by my son that year) – but my muse isn’t quite ready yet or is he?

Sadly, the Big Pine is no more.  Someone said it had been struck by lightning.