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What’s That Mean?
I understood everything else he said
My father owned a summer day camp. Every year I was expected to be a camper. After all, if Bob Barrabee’s own son didn’t go to his own father’s camp, then there must be something wrong with the camp.
Makes sense to me now but back then as a kid, it didn’t.
When I was 12, I graduated to become a junior counselor and at 15, I became a full fledged counselor.
I was playing three sports in high school and although no phys ed instructor I knew more than the campers. So instructing the pampered children who didn’t know which end of a baseball bat to hold or the difference between a basketball and a football was pretty darn easy.
However one of the lesser responsibilities assigned to me as a camp counselor was to scoop out ice cream. Yes as a reward for doing well in the daily sports activities a few kids at every level got an ice cream cone treat at the end of the day.
That aspect of my job as conselor presented the greatest challenges.
My dad only got a deal on the price of the lesser purchased flavors such as pistachio, mint chocolate chip, neapolitan….
Made it tough on me.
Imagine trying to satisfy an 8 year old that had his taste bud set for a vanilla…
