The wonder of May Day

Margie was looking up into the lush green leaves of the trees on Everett Street when she asked me, “How many Springs have I seen?” I said 97. She laughed and looked up again, “And I’m still not tired of them. Isn’t it something? They come back every year.”

She was in good form today, remembering her brother Bernie, who died in 1943. Talk turned to Camp Mikan, as it often does. I asked, “What was the name of the lake?” Without a moment’s pause she said Lake Cohasset. I said, “See? You have a wonderful memory. You tell me you have no memory, but you do! And what about the food at Camp Mikan? You’ve never mentioned the food.”

“It was better than anything I ever had at home. They had fresh oranges. They had sugar you could put on your oatmeal. I remember sitting at the end of the table when I was a Senior Camp Counselor. I was in charge  of six kids, and they sat at the table with me, three on each side. We were all poor kids, unaccustomed to having sugar, as much as we wanted, in a bowl in the middle of the table. We thought we were rich! The kids only got to spend two weeks at camp, but I worked there, so I got to be there for the whole summer, with six new kids every two weeks. I’ve never been happier.”

Update on PSU Student protest: the students are still in the library.