Summer camp, in all of its cultish glory, ruled my life for 13 years. Beginning at age 9 as a camper at Camp Don Bosco and ending at age 22 as head cook at Camp Gallagher, I spent my summers at camp eating grilled cheese, making friendship bracelets and not showering. Running around the woods all summer under the facade of employment was the funnest and I was lucky enough to make it out before they started pushing the God agenda.
As a tribute to my camp years, and as a way of kick-starting the summer, here are my top five favorite summer camp movies (in no particular order).
'Troop Beverly Hills'
Shelly Long leads a group of young, Beverly Hills girl scouts (including Donna Martin and that girl from Riley Kiley) to their first ever victory at the Wilderness Girls Jamboree. Speaking of Shelly Long, she was almost unrecognizable when she was on Modern Family. I only knew it was her because of that distinct voice of hers.
Best quote: "Patches? We don't need no stinkin patches."
Best scene (The Freddy...fast forward to the :38 mark)
'The Parent Trap' (the original)
Both my parents idolized Hayley Mills back in the day and when watching The Parent Trap, it's easy to see why. Anyone who can pull off that haircut is one charming gal.
Best quote: "Let's get together, yeah yeah yeah."
Best scene (just the first 21 seconds).
'The Parent Trap' (the remake)
Starring a likable Lindsay Lohan (before she became the 49-year-old she is today), this is a fantastic remake. It also makes me really want to live on a vineyard ("A what-yard?" "A vineyard- it's where you grow grapes to make wine.").
Best Quote: "Oof, Ice Woman!"
Best scene (I have always wanted to do this...fast forward to 6:34)
Also, check out this clip featuring a girl that I have always thought resembled a young Jody Norwood (fast forward to the 8:51 mark, she's playing the hand slapping game and wearing a green sweatshirt).
'Wet Hot American Summer'
For the summer camp counselor, this movie just cannot get any better. Letting the campers roam free while you weasel your way into a trip into town- I can relate to that. Despite being somewhat unknown, it has quite the all-star cast (Molly Shannon, Janeane Garofalo, Michael Ian Black, Paul Rudd, Amy Poheler, David Hyde Pierce, Bradley Cooper, Christopher Meloni).
Best quote: "Douche-bags are hygienic products; I take that as a compliment. Thank you."
Best scene.
'Camp Nowhere'
This movie is actually terrible (it has more cringe-worthy moments than every Julia Stiles movie combined, which is saying something), but it has two magical elements: Christopher Llyod and kids getting to do what they want with no rules!!!! YEAH!
Best quote:
"Who's this?"
"Winston Churchill- Jimi Hendrix of the spoken word. "
Best scene- there isn't one.
Honorable mention: "Heavy Weights"
I'll leave you with a spooky camp story that rivals that of Kalamath Man, Gravel Pit Girl and Clear Cut girl. It's the story of the Tiedman Terror and maybe it will be made into a movie some day.
Hours had past since campfire. The campers were in bed. As the last of their whispers gave way to soft snoring, a few insomniatic counselors gathered in the kitchen. Their evening had only just begun. You see, the brain of a camp counselor is unique. Cluttered with songs about tea-drinking pandas and lanyard weaves, they are starved for peer-to-peer conversation. Even the most polite of counselors cannot resist the urge to yell "FUCK" the second they are out of camper ear-shot. That night was no different- the counselors were craving a bit of nocturnal adventure in the remote south Puget Sound wilderness.
After taking down a final mouthful of four-layer bar, they were off; up the hill, away from camp and toward the paved road leading into town. It's a long walk to the top, about twenty five minutes maybe. The counselors didn't mind. The post-campfire sleepiness had faded in the bright shine of a full moon and time was of no concern. As they walked, the counselors gossiped eagerly about their fellow staff members and asked the juiciest would-you-rather questions they could think of. They were carefree, for that is the default setting. Don't blame them for being lighthearted. How could they have known what was to come? Why should they have been wary about the night, those woods, that full moon?
By the time they reached Tiedman road the moon had dimmed, the temperature had dropped and it was evident that the mysterious presence of deep, deep nighttime was upon them. They sat on the road near a streetlamp. Not even the counselors themselves remember much about their conversations at the road. Some reports say one of them tried to light a firework. Others, however, say they wouldn't have had time for such tomfoolery. What we do know is that it began with the sound of an engine. Distant at first, and then growing ever nearer. The counselors jumped to their feet at the site of headlights in the distance. They stood to the side of the road and watched the jeep pass in those last few seconds of naiveté.
Then, they saw him, caught in the headlights of the passing jeep, 20 yards away, and walking straight toward them. He was tall, wearing jeans and a white tank-top undershirt. Despite being completely bald he had a tiny, well-defined forehead that lasted only an inch or so before rounding off into the top of his hairless scalp. He had sunken, bug-eyes that did not blink. His gaze stayed fixed on the group of young counselors in his path. As he walked, one leg dragged slightly behind in a Vietnam-vet-style limp. The counselors stood in silence, until one of them finally managed to squeak out the word, "run!"
So they ran. And he ran after them. His slow leg churning up dust as it skipped swiftly along the country road. As they stumbled down the hillside in flipflops and moccasins, the counselors looked over their shoulders in fear. He was gaining on them. He grew closer and shouted at them; a garbled mess of words that, though indiscernible, were clearly hostile.
They continued their pursuit down the hill, no longer looking backward for fear it would slow them down. Tears streamed down their cheeks as they ran in a petrified silence. At last, they made it to the camp grounds and, exhausted, collapsed onto the kitchen porch. The man had fallen behind and they hoped he had retreated. Not taking any chances, the counselors stood guard with kitchen knifes and a telephone until sunrise.
No one knows where the Tiedman Terror went that night, or how much he knows about the camp that resides down the hill. What we do know is that things often went missing at camp that summer, and in the summers since. A kayak, a kickball, and an entire box of Krusteaz brownie mix are all thought to have disappeared at the hands of the T.T. Whether or not these events are the extent of his terror is a matter of speculation.
Ok, I am back. That was fun. Did you guess that one of those terrified counselors was me? Well, that was indeed the horse's mouth speaking and I must say it was the most scared I've ever been in my entire life (I don't really know if that's true. I don't remember anything before I was 3, so I could have been more scared at some point.).
Now I am off to bed. Well, first I'll eat a spoonful of nutella and then I will go to bed.
Love ya, mean it,
Madge
Hours had past since campfire. The campers were in bed. As the last of their whispers gave way to soft snoring, a few insomniatic counselors gathered in the kitchen. Their evening had only just begun. You see, the brain of a camp counselor is unique. Cluttered with songs about tea-drinking pandas and lanyard weaves, they are starved for peer-to-peer conversation. Even the most polite of counselors cannot resist the urge to yell "FUCK" the second they are out of camper ear-shot. That night was no different- the counselors were craving a bit of nocturnal adventure in the remote south Puget Sound wilderness.
After taking down a final mouthful of four-layer bar, they were off; up the hill, away from camp and toward the paved road leading into town. It's a long walk to the top, about twenty five minutes maybe. The counselors didn't mind. The post-campfire sleepiness had faded in the bright shine of a full moon and time was of no concern. As they walked, the counselors gossiped eagerly about their fellow staff members and asked the juiciest would-you-rather questions they could think of. They were carefree, for that is the default setting. Don't blame them for being lighthearted. How could they have known what was to come? Why should they have been wary about the night, those woods, that full moon?
By the time they reached Tiedman road the moon had dimmed, the temperature had dropped and it was evident that the mysterious presence of deep, deep nighttime was upon them. They sat on the road near a streetlamp. Not even the counselors themselves remember much about their conversations at the road. Some reports say one of them tried to light a firework. Others, however, say they wouldn't have had time for such tomfoolery. What we do know is that it began with the sound of an engine. Distant at first, and then growing ever nearer. The counselors jumped to their feet at the site of headlights in the distance. They stood to the side of the road and watched the jeep pass in those last few seconds of naiveté.
Then, they saw him, caught in the headlights of the passing jeep, 20 yards away, and walking straight toward them. He was tall, wearing jeans and a white tank-top undershirt. Despite being completely bald he had a tiny, well-defined forehead that lasted only an inch or so before rounding off into the top of his hairless scalp. He had sunken, bug-eyes that did not blink. His gaze stayed fixed on the group of young counselors in his path. As he walked, one leg dragged slightly behind in a Vietnam-vet-style limp. The counselors stood in silence, until one of them finally managed to squeak out the word, "run!"
So they ran. And he ran after them. His slow leg churning up dust as it skipped swiftly along the country road. As they stumbled down the hillside in flipflops and moccasins, the counselors looked over their shoulders in fear. He was gaining on them. He grew closer and shouted at them; a garbled mess of words that, though indiscernible, were clearly hostile.
They continued their pursuit down the hill, no longer looking backward for fear it would slow them down. Tears streamed down their cheeks as they ran in a petrified silence. At last, they made it to the camp grounds and, exhausted, collapsed onto the kitchen porch. The man had fallen behind and they hoped he had retreated. Not taking any chances, the counselors stood guard with kitchen knifes and a telephone until sunrise.
No one knows where the Tiedman Terror went that night, or how much he knows about the camp that resides down the hill. What we do know is that things often went missing at camp that summer, and in the summers since. A kayak, a kickball, and an entire box of Krusteaz brownie mix are all thought to have disappeared at the hands of the T.T. Whether or not these events are the extent of his terror is a matter of speculation.
Ok, I am back. That was fun. Did you guess that one of those terrified counselors was me? Well, that was indeed the horse's mouth speaking and I must say it was the most scared I've ever been in my entire life (I don't really know if that's true. I don't remember anything before I was 3, so I could have been more scared at some point.).
Now I am off to bed. Well, first I'll eat a spoonful of nutella and then I will go to bed.
Love ya, mean it,
Madge
4 comments:
omg - how have I not heard that story? is it for real? this post really made me want to watch wet hot american summer again - so good!
Brilliant Smadge!
That girl does look like Jody!
this was soo scary, but so good to read. Maybe you could blog about your neighbor's mom we found... creepy.
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