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Why (as in yaverbaum)
them before they could actually kick the ball on goal. Thus, I repeatedly dove at the ball as it reached, or was on the foot of, the potential shooter. I got plenty bloody, but I pitched a shutout and was a hero for a day.
It was also during Tribe War that I scored somewhat of a moral vic- tory. I was pitted against Lloyd Harris, clearly the best athlete among the co-ops, in a tennis match, of all things. Tennis was far from my sport. It was a match that I was absolutely expected to lose (it was in fact unlucky seeding for the other tribe that brought Harris into combat with me, rather than with someone who was actually good at the sport; as most anyone else could have beaten me, Lloyd’s skill was wasted). I did not disappoint, but I remain proud that the match ended at a sur- prising and respectable loss for me, at 4–6. Approximately twenty years later, I required emergency endodontic care and dutifully reported to the large office to which my regular dentist had sent me. I was then introduced to Dr. Lloyd Harris, who I hadn’t seen since 1963, and he performed the root canal. I was glad that I had lost the tennis match.
Co-ops had a social life. That’s what the “teen girls”; the camp’s after-hours eatery, the “Chuck Wagon” (inaptly named, if you ask me); and, if you got lucky, the golf course were for. They also put on a musi- cal with the teen girls. Our musical was Kiss Me Kate, in which I was part of a trio that sang “I’ve Come to Wive It Wealthily in Padua,” which, owing in great measure to my voice—or, more precisely, the lack of it—was cut from the show.
As important as the social life with the teen girls was, the co-ops had an educational social life of their own. I learned how to drink beer as a co-op, a valuable skill that I carried though college and beyond, and I learned an important economic principle, also in the context of beer: One night, for reasons that I don’t recall, all thirty-odd co-ops were taken out as a group to L&M’s, the pizza place on Route 22 that the counselors favored. Each of us could have as much or as little soda, (ille- gal) beer, and pizza as he wanted, but, for simplicity’s sake, the bill would be divided equally. The result? Well, no person wanted to pay for the excesses of any other person. Accordingly, each co-op, and each of the counselors as well, ate and drank in quantities far in excess of those that
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