Time Capsules

I used to spend every summer at a YMCA youth camp on Catalina Island. If I was lucky, I would leave for camp the day after school got out and return the day before school started in the fall.

It was a fantastic experience to be "on my own" for three months. With a job and responsibilities and a little walking around $$ to boot.

As I have mentioned before, I am not much into Facebook or the other one as the ol blog here sort of fills that need for me. A while back, a friend made a good point in saying that at the very least I ought to open an account on each so that people who may be looking for me can find me. So I opened a FaceSpace account, posted a photo of the dawg and pointed to "TheDawgRun".

Recently, someone from my camp staffing days started a forum on facebook for past camp staff members - most of whom seem to be right around my era or afterwards. It is sorta neat to see the photos and reminisce.

I remember that one year (I think it was 1988), the camp staff actually buried a time capsule. We had a big luau to celebrate and I was in charge of most of the food. The maintenance crew set up a make-shift stage and anyone who wanted to contribute to the capsule was welcome to stand up, explain what they were adding, and toss it in.

I only remember two items that were added. The camp manager (Dave Powell), a hard-working man worthy of respect, tossed in his sweat-stained ball cap he had been wearing all summer. I tossed in a photo of my current girlfriend, declaring that in 10 years time, when the capsule was opened, I would be married to her (I haven't been in contact with her for well over a decade now).

So far as I know, the capsule was never dug up and remains buried under the archery range to this day (formally the "gymnastics" area).

The camp has fallen under new management now and we have all mostly gone our separate ways. But I wonder . . . .

2013 would be the 25th anniversary of that time capsule . . . I just wonder . . . .

Oh, and the other thing I remember, I neglected to cook the jumbo shrimp cocktail resulting in at least a dozen or so staffers heaving their guts out afterwards . . . . good times . . .