Cul-de-Sac Summer Camp

Some kids went to the YMCA summer camp, some kids went to band camp, some kids went to science or sport camp; not me. 

I went to the cul-de-sac street camp of life.

It was sponsored by our parents yelling, “go outside and find a friend.”

And so, we did. Between 10 a.m. and 11 a.m., there were no more excuses, no more cartoons, no more MTV, and we all began to wander out into the sun. I would walk up the road a bit with my apple or granola bar bumping into another wandering soul. On any day we would find ourselves roaming that dead-end street like magnets forming our pack for the day. 

Our camp was boy heavy. The leader was Tony. We would follow him anywhere. He knew all the cool things to do, like leaning on trees with one foot and tossing rocks at fences. There was Luc, a tiny, quirky guy who would engineer all our imaginings into reality.

And there was Luc’s little brother shadow, Stevie. Ricky, the opposite of tiny — a loveable mountain with little to say. And those little boys we named Thing One and Thing Two. They were too young to hang with us but seemed to be on their own, so we let them follow us around.

Us gals were Lizbeth — the tall lanky blonde who was already allowed to wear makeup — Neena, the proper Polish girl who played violin, and me. I was 13 that summer and just discovering boys, cutoff jean shorts, and lip gloss. 

And that is how my summer of ‘learning all you need to know about life’ began.

Everyday started with, “What did you watch?”, “Did you see that wicked video?”, “Who’s got bubblegum?”. Sometimes I would show off with my new ten-speed bike and ride up and down the street and circle around the gang.

Sometimes we would head to the woods playing Murder Ball — a mix of hide-and-seek and dodgeball. I was great at hiding!

Sometimes we would hit the pools or walk, ride, or scooter all together to the convenience store. Mostly it was us gals watching the boys and giggling.

One hot day Lizbeth said, “I like the way you wear your new lip-gloss; pink is your colour.”

Tony didn’t seem to notice this exchange among us preening girls, but he sure wore his tight white t-shirt and tossed the football to Ricky more manly that day. “Whatcha wanna do? Wanna go to the woods, Murder Ball? Wanna go to the pool?”. Luc went on.

It was one of those mid-summer done-it-all-what-now kind of days and we were all a little bored. Even Thing One and Thing Two were just lying in the grass, soccer ball unused.

And then it happened. A big white moving truck came rumbling in. And behind it a wood paneled station wagon with a boy in the back. A cute boy.

We all sat across the street watching as the movers did their work and listening for signs of life from inside the house. Then we heard that familiar call: “Go find a friend!” and another soul for the cul-de-sac camp pack emerged from inside. 

He wandered over to us, bound to our magnet. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked Tony. 

“Hey! I’m Tony. Got a name?” was the tough reply. 

“Rick,” the boy said.

 “We already got one,” retorted Ricky.

 “Be nice.” I reprimanded. 

“He talks funny.” Stevie said and hid behind Luc. 

“I’m from England. You know the queen and all that,” replied Rick.

 “Royalty. Oooooo. Like it,” said Lizbeth. And that was that. Rick was one of us. 

Tony suggested Murder Ball. We wanted to walk around and show Rick the town. Tony shrugged and said, “Fine, follow me then.” It took most of the day and since he was “royalty,” we let him pick what to do the next day.

The call for kids began around 4 p.m. as each parent yelled, “Dinner! And the slow unlinking began. We all agreed to meet the next morning. I couldn’t wait. Rick was even cuter than Tony and had that great accent. It made him sound so smart! 

The next day was a disaster.  I was informed that I had to swing my little brother on his 2-seater glider swing. Luc came running to my backyard. “What are you doing here? We’re all going to the record store. The new kid likes albums,” he was in a hurry. 

“I can’t. I have to swing my little brother.” I was devastated. 

“I can fix that,” Luc yelled and ran to his yard. He came back with a long rope. Luc told me to wrap it around the tree while he made some knots and loops. He gave my brother the end and told him to swing himself for a while. “We have important things to do!”

I was released from swing hell and ran to the light! “I’m going to get in so much trouble!” I told the gang. 

“Thanks for coming with us,” said Rick, adding a wink: “You’re the best!”

My heart raced. My face went red. I’m in love!

The record store was fun. Rick had some extra money and he bought me a Monkees 45’. “They’re my favorite band. I have the poster above my bed,” I giggled.

The call home for me came way before 4 p.m. It rang out loud and clear — and it was not a happy one. “Oh man, good luck, hope it’s not too bad!” everyone was saying. And Rick blew me a kiss. It hit me at a thousand miles per hour! I didn’t care if I was in trouble. I was in love!

I was informed by my parents that I would be spending loads of time with my little brother for the next two days. It was worth it.

I woke up the next morning ready to suffer my consequences, but I had a small itch that got bigger and bigger and redder and redder, covering my hands and arms! Oh noooooooo!

I ran to my parents. Poison oak! A suitable punishment. The rash was so bad; I was a monster. No way I was letting Rick see me like this!

Ten days passed before I would see my gang again. It was worse than death. A whole ten days of reflection on how much I missed Rick (not at all on my little brother).

Finally feeling better, I ventured out to join the cul-de-sac crew. Only things had changed. Rick was making eyes at Lizbeth! How could it be? Tony was making eyes at Neena.

I was out. 

After a few weird days of awkwardness, summer was almost over. We all talked about where we would be going to school. Ricky was going to tech high-school for mechanics, Rick was going to private prep-school. Lizbeth was going to another district. Luc, Neena, Tony, and I were heading to the same school. All our statuses were still to be determined.

A big lady carrying a tray came out and walked right up to us. “Thanks for watching out for Sean and Henry,” She said. 

“Who?” We all responded. 

“My boys. It was nice you did that. Here’s some lemonade and cookies.” Thing One and Thing Two had names! “Come on boys, we’re going school shopping,” she ordered. They groaned and frowned and went off with their mother. We devoured the treats in minutes.   

Then the boys headed off down the street. Lizbeth yelled “flying piggybacks” and started running. Neena and I took off, too. If I beat Lizbeth to Rick, maybe I could get another chance at love. I was way faster than Lizbeth. I could feel it — I was ahead of her. This was it. One jump away from piggybacking with Rick and he would see I’m his girl.

I was almost there, and the most unimaginable tragedy of the summer occurred. I slipped in something hot, squishy and brown. Yes, dog poop. And it was not ordinary dog poop. It was the biggest pile I had ever encountered. It smooshed in through my sandal in between my toes and out the back heel. Gross! 

Lizbeth jumped on Rick, Neena jumped on Tony, and the rest of the boys ran off yelling “Yuuuuck!”

Except for Luc. “Hop on!” he yelled and ran me all the way to my yard. Who knew my summer and my love life would end with dog poop?

I was humiliated — I held back big tears. Luc carefully helped me hose off my sandal and my foot. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “So, who owns the horse?” We laughed so hard we cried.

“Thanks, Luc!” I wiped away my laughter. 

“See ya at school,” Luc yelled and ran off.  

I learned three important things the summer I spent at the cul-de-sac camp of life. One: How to identify poison oak. Two: Young love is fickle and wonderful. Three: True friends catch you, even when your foot is full of poop.

---

Sink into more nostalgic stories in our Writing Memories series — or dabble in some heartwarming fiction next!

• The Walkabout With My Daughter – Writing Memories
• Ripe With Anxiousness – Nostalgic Flash Fiction
• Divergent Memory of a Burning Heap – Writing Memories
• An RAF Childhood – Flash Fiction
• The Isle of Arran – Writing Memories
• A Moment of Discovery – Flash Fiction
• Pins and Needles – Writing Memories