Page 194 - WhyAsInY

Why (as in yaverbaum)
where the entire camp was assembled. As it happens, the Gold Firemen prevailed in a squeaker in the War, notwithstanding the failure of their four heap-builders, who were probably from Brooklyn, to start an effec- tive (non-insurance) fire. Thus, having led both the Chippewa and the Firemen to wins, I became somewhat of a personification of the merger of the cultures.
I had a wonderful time that summer and, on the last day of camp, I found myself crying as the buses pulled out.
The next summer, the summer of 1965, I returned to Brookwood, this time as a general counselor, and I was the Chippewa Tribe Chief again. My team won that War as well, and I was three for three. Once again, my good deed was punished, and I became the general of the Gold Gladiators, whose opponent was the Blue Centurions. This time the challenge was not just to hide the time and manner of the Color War break but also to convince the camp that I would not, as was expected, be one of the generals. How? Perry Sandler, who was the Assistant Head Counselor, and I staged a very public shouting match, timed to the arrival of the senior boys in the area of the baseball field. The “fight” ended with Perry shouting the typical “You’re fired!” to which I replied with the traditional “You can’t fire me. I quit!” To make sure that the story stuck, my ostensibly final check was drawn, and I left with my trunk, which I had conspicuously packed, jammed into the back of my trusty 1958 black Chevy Impala convertible.
For the next two days, I slept in a bed that was provided to me cour- tesy of Camp Lokanda, which was across the lake from Brookwood, until I returned via helicopter for the Color War break. The fight song was set to the theme from The Longest Day, the alma mater did not con- tain a rhyme for the word Brookwood, my team lost (narrowly, I liked to say), and my string was broken. After that, my participation in the Wars was limited to that of being a judge because I was a group leader during the summers of 1966 and 1967 and because, and here I’ll beat you to it, enough is enough.
Of course, Brookwood was not all about Wars. I made many friends and many social advances there, and I left the camp with three girl-
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