The summer of the fire Arvy no longer worked at Scoutcraft.
It was the first summer that he was going to be 18 for his duration at camp—meaning he was eligible for middle management positions. The previous summer he was asked if he wanted to be the forthcoming scoutcraft area director, and he realized that he did not. He wanted to come back to camp and see all his friends and have fun adventures with them, but he did not want another summer of doing the same job.
“In truth,” Arvy said to me, “I had it in the back of my head that this would be the last summer before I stopped coming back.” He hung his head. “I just wanted to enjoy camp one last time before I had to grow up.” Immediately the picture of Gregory Karver erupted. An image of returning to work at camp summer after summer for ten years. Stuck forever trying to recapture something long gone.
So, the summer of the fire Arvy didn’t work in a program area. Instead, he was a commissioner.
The staff referred to them as commies. The commissioners went to each campsite that the troops stayed in and helped them with the maintenance of their site. Mostly Arvy was a free agent. He went around doing work that needed to be done without being tied down to a specific program area. Arvy said it was one of the best summers he had—that is, of course, right up until the end.
Arvy and his best friend at camp, Conrad, spent the summer together doing miscellaneous jobs and messing around. At every mention of Conrad, Arvy was visibly nostalgic. “Conrad and I did everything together this summer,” he said. “It was like living in a buddy comedy movie.”
Conrad was not a commie. Conrad had the special designation of being the “Ass Ranger.” Of course, when campers asked Conrad what his job was, he had to tell them he was the assistant ranger. The real ranger of the camp oversaw all maintenance year round, not just the minor stuff that the commies dealt with. Conrad, being his assistant, was a member of the summer staff that helped to lighten the ranger’s workload.
Though sometimes the difference between their positions was muddled. This muddiness was perfect for the duo, however.
When he first arrived for the summer Arvy took his bags into the side room of his assigned cabin and found excitement. Conrad was already setting up his bunk with sheets and blankets. “Yo,” was all Conrad had to say. Arvy jumped into Conrad’s arms and gave him a hug.
“Roomies!?” Arvy said excitedly.
Conrad gestured to the mold ridden rotting wooden wall. “You know what it needs though right?”
“What?”
He smiled. “Motherfucking corner shelves.”
Arvy took a step back and thought for a moment. The synapses in his brain sparked away as he tried to make the connection between what he had just heard and what he considered reality. “Corner shelves?”
“Check it,” Conrad said. He ran his fist around in the corner of the room opposite their beds. “We get some scrap wood, and we could put in a little shelf right here, and there,” he pointed to the corner across from Arvy’s bed. “Look,” he pointed to the area beneath his planned construction. “There are some outlets. Corner shelves would be a fucking sweet addition cause then we could plug in our phones and then rest them on the shelves instead of the floor.”
“Alright,” Arvy said. “But tell me, where are we going to get the stuff for corner shelves, let alone the permission to build them.”
“ARVY! I’m the ass ranger now. I have full access to the shop!”
“Oh?”
“The ranger has a bunch of scrap wood. Like a huge fucking pile of it. I can just take from that and use it to build shit. Like some tight corner shelves.”
Conrad led Arvy out of the cabin and down what appeared to be a deer trail. It led from the adult staff cabins to the shop—a shell of a metal warehouse which housed shoddy lumber and a plethora of woodworking tools.
Lining the walls were a collection of old camp signs pointing to places in the camp that no longer existed. David Douglas, Thunderbird, Shoshone. Campsites that have been lost to history. Moved or destroyed so that there was room to build new camp structures or areas, and some that were just merged with another smaller campsite. Within the piles of scrap was a sign for the old Thunderbird campsite, which was demolished when the new dining hall was constructed.
“You ever heard of Thunderbird?” Arvy asked.
“Nope! Okay here is the scrap pile.” Indeed, there was a large pile of several bits of wood. Different types of wood too. Conrad looked for some decently shaped plywood, and blocks to use as a support against the wall. However, Arvy was more curious about what they passed by on their way into the shop.
“Dude,” Arvy said. “What do we need all that machinery out there for?”
“Fighting the Japanese.”
“What?”
“What? Sorry, what are you talking about?” said Conrad.
“What are you talking about? I’m talking about all those construction, Bob the Builder-ass machines outside the shop.”
“I didn’t see anything like that.”
“Look,” Arvy led Conrad, who had an armful of wood, out of the shop. Sure enough there were several excavators and backhoes lined up on the side of the dirt road which led to the service road.
“Oh shit,” said Conrad.
“What’s this all about?”
“You haven’t heard about the golf course?”
Arvy gave the machinery and up-and-down glance. “No? They’re building a golf course? Where? Here?”
“Yeah,” Conrad carried the wood back into the shop and set them down on a workbench. Arvy followed him inside. “The council is shit poor, so to be able to continue to pay people like us to work at their camps, and even keep their administration operational, they are leasing a part of the land here to some golf course guy.”
“The hell? Why would they even consider that an option? What part of the land?”
Conrad measured the angle on a piece of plywood to make sure it was 90 degrees. “Like, I think it’s everything north of the old flagpole. So the staff housing, this workshop, the graves, and all the forest north of here for a few miles.”
“The staff housing? Where are we gonna stay if they destroy the staff housing? And didn’t they sink a bunch of money into making the youth-staff cabins a bunch of years ago?”
“Yeah, I think they are gonna convert Totem Pole into the new staff cabins,” said Conrad.
“What the campsite? Totem Pole is right next to the nature area. So what? We are just gonna sleep in nature’s backyard? Won’t all the scouts be able to just wander in?”
“Dude, I don’t know. It all sounds kinda fucky to me.”
“I guess we could sleep in for a few extra minutes since we won’t have to walk as far to the dining hall.”
“Pretty sure they aren’t doing a thing until all the staff leave. So we don’t have to worry about it this summer. You planning on coming back next year?”
There it was. The question that would plague Arvy all summer. At least with Conrad he could be somewhat honest, but that didn’t stop him from lying. “Eh, maybe. I can’t really say,” Arvy responded meekly. “I don’t really know what I will be up to when I get back from camp this summer. College I guess, but I don’t really want to end up like Gregory.”
Conrad laughed. “So you don’t want to work for like twenty summers in a row or something ridiculous like that?”
Arvy chuckled back at him. “No. Not really.”
Conrad patted Arvy on the back and about faced back into the shop. The corner shelves were the first of many constructions that Arvy and Conrad would make that summer. They would build frames and signs and mailboxes. They would fix pipes and fences. Any tent canvas that needed patching or picnic table that had fallen apart would be mended by the giggling hands of the duo. This was how Arvy spent his final year at camp. Doing odd jobs in exchange for chuckles with his best friend Conrad.
I enjoyed seeing Arvy smile so much. But I could tell that he was about to divulge the worst of it soon because he began fidgeting with his scout cap again.
Arvy spoke of the morning of the fire. How it began with one such odd job. The waterfront wanted a new flagpole for their area. Since Conrad used to work at the waterfront in summer’s past, he was happy to do it.
Conrad pulled up at the dining hall in “the Lake”—a beat-up ancient truck that had no windows (its accumulation of water when it rained earned it its name). From the driver’s seat, Conrad beckoned Arvy, “Hey baby, you want to cut down a tree?”
“Gimme some of that tree,” Arvy said before hoping into the passenger seat. After a brief beat of silence Arvy continued, “I’ve never cut down a tree before.”
Conrad slammed the breaks, “Never cut down a tree? Yo, you are gonna get some learn today!”
They drove far enough down the service road that they were almost out of camp. Conrad wanted to find a place that was secluded, but he also wanted to find the perfect tree.
He stopped the Lake when he found a nice skinny tree. Tall enough. It had branches but not many. In the back of the truck was an assortment of tools, and Conrad pulled out an axe. He took a few swings toward the bottom of the tree. “What you are gonna wanna do,” he said between chops. “Is not cut in the same spot for the entire time you are swinging.”
“Oh?” said Arvy.
“Yeah, what’ll happen is it will fall directly on the axe, and you. So cut around the base, we want to weaken it so that it will fall in the direction we make it fall.”
Conrad then handed Arvy the axe. Switching back and forth, they each took turns swinging. After about ten minutes they had weakened it enough to push the tree over. They directed it to land on the side of the road where they then chopped branches off to make it clean and pole-like. “Okay, now we gonna put this on the Lake. And then drive the Lake to the lake.”
The tree trunk was long. Somewhere in the area of 30 feet. They put the thicker end toward the rear of the Lake so that the trunk was weighed down backside. It was then leaning up over the front of the truck like a seesaw. When they started driving, they felt an incredible drag and a freshly dug line in the service road below the trunk. That was when the balancing game begun.
The pole stuck out for about 15 feet in front of them. It made making turns very difficult but fortunately the service road was mostly a straight shot with the few turns being fairly wide. They drove it to the waterfront and amassed many a strange look from the campers.
On the way, they passed by the nature area. Nature was secluded just off the service road behind ever expanding bushes of salal. Even the base of the giant entrance gate which read “Nature” in big friendly letters was obscured. Noah, a nature staff member, heard the unmistakable puttering of the Lake and popped out for a chat. He asked them what they were up to. “Is this for the camp… or for something crazy you two are cooking up?”
“Tell nature I brought them my dick,” Conrad said.
Arvy waved a hand to interject. “It’s for the waterfront. They asked for a flagpole,” Arvy explained.
“Well shit,” Noah said. “We’ve been asking for a flagpole too.”
“We already built you those signs,” said Conrad. “They working out okay?”
“Yes. It’s sort of weird to be honest. We used to be able to say, ‘looking for nature? It’s all around you!’”
“Well I am sure they will find something to be confused about,” said Conrad. “What is it they call your Oceanography merit badge?” Conrad smirked as the words left his mouth. Arvy tells me that Conrad knew perfectly well what they called it. He just wanted to hear the goofy cadence of her voice.
“Oceanology!” screamed a voice from the Nature area. It was Kamila Garza, the current Oceanography merit badge instructor. Her class was very popular, even if the scouts kept getting its name wrong. Pretty much any merit badge class taught by a girl staff member was popular. If many of the newer staff members could, they would have taken her class as well. Most staffers failed to realize that she and Conrad had been dating on the sly since last summer.
Kamila appeared from the bush beneath the nature entry gate. She had shoulder length brown hair that flooded out from her scout hat and a dopey smile that Arvy always found endearing.
“Going to the lake already?” she asked.
“Alright, I have a class to teach,” Noah said, excusing himself.
Conrad gave a thumbs up. “Decided to start without you.”
“How rude,” she joked.
“No,” Conrad corrected, “Just delivering a giant tree for them to do what Waterfront does best.”
“If that is a veiled joke about waterfront bromances then I should be more worried about you and Arvy I think.”
Arvy laughed. “He’s mine now, sorry.”
“Now?” Kamila said with a chuckle. After doing a quick glance of the scene to make sure nobody was watching she gave Conrad a quick peck on the cheek before returning to nature. In bliss, the duo then continued their journey.
When they arrived at Lake Hamilton, they rolled the log off the top of the truck and observed the massive dent they had made in the roof. The Lake was already so beat up and worn that they weren’t worried about repercussions.
They heard Alex, the waterfront director, call for his staff. “Jeff! Bart! Jeremy! Duncan! The flagpole is here!”
Three shirtless staff members wearing only red lifeguard swimsuits jogged up from a picnic table on the lakeshore. They were a skinny collection of off-brand Baywatch jocks. That is, everyone but Jeremy.
Jeremy could be seen running out of the water in the distance shivering. He wasn’t a full-time waterfront staff member. He wasn’t even a full-time staff member. He was a SIT, a staffer in training. Or as they often referred to them, staff helpers in training. You can follow the acronym for yourself. He wore his own swimsuit that his mother had packed for him.
Jeff and Duncan were both incredibly tan from working a summer in the sun. “Hey Meek,” Jeff said to Jeremy, “Think this will be big enough for you?”
Duncan immediately started laughing. “We got more sunscreen in the tower if you need some lube.”
Jeremey gave his best, “very funny guys,” in response.
Arvy cleared his throat, “is that cause you guys never use it?” He then pinched Jeff’s side. Jeff in turn yelped from the unending sunburn that he had.
“Cut it out,” Alex said. “Jeremy, go grab the post-hole digger and find a good patch of dirt behind the kayaks. The rest of you, get hauling.” They then carried the pole off through the sand leaving Arvy and Conrad completed in their task.
The duo then went on their way giggling about the dent in the roof. It was still just the late part of the morning, but they decided to return to the dining hall under the guise of grabbing another job from the list. Though truly it was for food.
At this point of the day none of the program staff were in the dining hall. The only staff who would be there would have worked in the building. Kitchen staff and trading post. This meant that the staff room was empty.
It was adorned with hooks all along the wall for staff members to hang their uniform jackets or their backpacks on. Above the hooks were photo collages of camp staff past. It would have the year on it, and a collection of funny photos documenting the group who worked that summer.
In the center of the staff room were several tables. Usually they were all separated, but today they were all pushed together into one mega table. On the table was a bowl of chocolate pudding with a note saying “Up for grabs” next to it.
Conrad looked to Arvy and raised his eyebrows over and over again. “You want some?”
“No,” said Arvy, “I am going to go check out what is in the fridge.” Arvy went through the connecting door into the kitchen and procured a grilled cheese sandwich from the previous day’s lunch and heated it up in the microwave. He returned to the staff room to see Conrad, spoon in hand, guzzling down the bowl of pudding.
“I’m eating it all,” Conrad said with pudding in his mouth.
“Why?”
“Cause I am skipping lunch today.”
“Just have some grilled cheese sandwiches dude.”
“But I also want to see if I can eat all the pudding.”
Arvy laughed. “Why are you skipping lunch?”
“Going kayaking with Kamila and Jeff. Won’t be any scouts on the lake since its lunch time. Kamila wanted to kayak at least once before the summer ended. And uh, well Jeff was there when she was talking with me about it and offered to show her how to kayak.”
“Classic Jeff,” Arvy said. “This is his first summer, right?”
“Yeah. Idiot. Anyways so if you want to come,” Conrad took another massive gulp of pudding, “you can.”
Arvy gobbled his grilled cheese. “I am in. Look, I already don’t need lunch already.”
As it grew closer to lunch time more of the staff began to arrive in the staff room. Conrad became a spectacle. Everybody wanted to see him finish the entire bowl. “It hurts!” Conrad said, but still took more gulps. “It doesn’t even taste good anymore!”
People cheered him on saying stuff like, “You can do it!” “Come on Conrad,” and “What the hell, I wanted pudding.”
Slightly before lunch was about to begin and all the staff would have to join the scouts in the dining hall, Conrad consumed the final scoop of pudding.
Arvy laughed when telling me this story, but also let out a somber sigh. “He was a moron,” Arvy said to me. A hand rubbed his chin. He was trying to figure out how to nicely put: “He ate the whole fucking bowl and then felt incredibly sick. He told me he was going to see the medic really quick and that he would meet me at the Waterfront for the kayaking.”
Arvy took a deep breath; I suspect to fight a tear. He wiped his forehead and chuckled, hiding an intense pain that he didn’t want to present to me. Conrad was presumably in the medic’s office, complaining about an upset stomach when he and the medic found out that somebody had locked the door. Unable to leave the office, which was attached to the dining hall, they both perished in the fire.
Adam McDonald 