Camp by Michael D. Eisner

Author:Michael D. Eisner [EISNER, MICHAEL]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780759513983
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Chapter Eleven

The Lengthened Shadow

present

At lunchtime, a meal gong sounds. All activity ceases—in tents, in forts, on fields—and the campers swarm in a collective rush toward the dining hall. Some of the younger campers choose to sprint, some of the more distracted (or less hungry) kids walk absentmindedly, and some of the older kids do nothing, at least for a few minutes, too cool to be part of the mad rush.

The staffmen at the doors hold a new weapon—waterless hand-soap. Each entering camper, staffman, and visitor gets a squirt in the hand. They pass inside through this human checkpoint and through the open wooden screen doors, scores of hand pairs rubbing together.

It is then he walks into the dining hall, or, rather, is walked in, today by daughter Laurie. In the summer, his whole family has traditionally been together again, the family that started here. This year, the kids are all here—Laurie in from Seattle, Peter up from Philly, and Steve just down the road from the health club he owns—only their mother is absent. She is not well, and her absence at camp is noticeable.

Laurie escorts her father to a familiar spot, aptly numbered Table 1, then to a familiar chair at the end of the table, a camper on each side and a Waramaug staffman directly across.

“Who’s going to go up and get the lunch meat? . . . Okay, good, you can go.”

“Where is the pitcher of juice? Where is the water? . . . Okay, pass the water around starting here, the juice around starting there.”

He doesn’t seem to know the names of the faceless campers around him, yet he still indicates some understanding and recollection of their personalities. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t like milk. Well, I know you’re the one who didn’t like syrup at breakfast, and you don’t like mayonnaise; you like your food plain!”

After the meal has been eaten, a camper waiting the table takes the dishes and glasses back into the kitchen and returns with apples for dessert. The bowl of Macintoshes is placed in front of Waboos, and no one seems sure what to do next. There aren’t enough for the whole table; they’ll need to be cut in pieces.

As if he could see the problem himself, Waboos asks the camper next to him for a knife. He feels for and grabs one of the apples from the bowl and begins slicing it. The first slice is made, and then Waboos, in a swooping movement, impales it with the knife and holds it out for the camper next to him, who grabs the apple slice from the knife and takes a bite. Another impaled slice is held out for the next camper, and so forth. Even the other staffer at the table reaches across to Waboos and grabs a slice off the knife.

What’s most intriguing about all this—aside from the tableau of the blind octogenarian holding apple slices out for campers with his knife—is that during the whole scene, which goes on for about fifteen minutes, nothing is said.

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