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November 20, 2006
Wilderness Week- and More Underwear
The Tiny Kingdom has a long tradition of sending its entire fifth grade off for a week-long stay at a nature camp, where they learn about Alabama’s plants and animals and the state’s earliest settlers. The kids wade in the river and collect wiggly specimens, and they hike for hours over unforgiving terrain to see breathtaking scenery. Sometimes they learn about things that are not on the planned curriculum.
Finn left Monday, with plenty of outdoor gear and the few pair of underwear we were able to scrounge up for him. Although the boys and girls stay in separate cabins, I stressed to him that he was to be extremely careful about wearing appropriate clothing at all times.
As Finn and I were packing, I said, “Whenever you’re around the girls, I want you to wear more than just underwear. I want you to have on pants and a shirt, too.”
He looked at me with that special pre-teen look that is simultaneously condescending and compassionate, the one that says, ‘My mom has lost her mind but I’m going to let her think she’s perfectly sane.’
He said, “Yes, ma’am. I usually wear clothes, you know.”
“Even if y’all have some kind of get-together in your pajamas, I want you to be completely covered up. Everywhere. With something over your underwear,” I emphasized.
“Mom, I don’t really want anyone to see me in my underwear. And I think we’re a little old to be hanging out in our pajamas,” Finn sighed as he rolled up his sleeping bag.
I realize that my directive sounded bizarre to him, but reasonable to me because of my own experience on the same trip.
Back in my day, we went on the field trip in the seventh grade. I went in 1979, the year of “I Will Survive,” “Heart of Glass,” and “Le Freak.” Along with my hiking boots, I’d packed Tickle deodorant and Love’s Baby Soft, because twelve-year-old girls must stay fragrant at all times, even when enduring life in the woods.
I was thrilled to be in a bunk next to the girl with the glass eye. I had always wondered what she did at night– whether she slept in it or whether it had to be put through a good cleaning every so often, like a retainer. It turned out that she understood the drama of her situation. When it was close to lights out, she extended her toilette so that she was the last one to get in bed. The rest of us were already in our bunks, anxiously peering at her. She got in bed, put a hand to her face, pulled out her eyeball with a theatrical gesture, and plopped it into a glass on the window sill. It sat there all night, unblinking.
One day we toured an old schoolhouse that pioneer children had attended. I doubted that the leader would be able to teach me anything about schooling in the 1800s that I didn’t already know. I’d read each of the The Little House on the Prairie
I dimly remember hearing about the four Indian tribes that lived in Alabama (Choctaw, Chickasaw, Cherokee, Creek), and watching the boys bounce the spongy scrambled eggs we ate for breakfast off the cafeteria table, but I must confess that my most specific memory, as vivid to me today as if it had happened yesterday and not twenty-seven years ago, had nothing at all to do with Indian lore or spelling.
I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to have all the seventh graders change into their pajamas before we met in the dining hall for one last class, but those were our instructions. The girls came out in an assortment of Lanz flannel nightgowns, while most of the boys wore sweatpants or flannel pajama bottoms and T-shirts.
One boy, however, sauntered into the dining hall clad only in boxers. The girls looked at him and let out a collective gasp. My best friend and I only had sisters and we were thrilled to see a boy in his underwear. We’d read Forever
I don’t remember what happened next– whether he remained in his underwear while we sat in a circle and shared our favorite memories of the week, or whether he was asked to cover up, but it doesn’t really matter. The image was, and is, indelibly seared in my memory.
That’s why I took special care to make sure Finn kept his family jewels covered at all times. I loaded him on the bus with the assurance that in 2033, when Finn is coaching one of his classmates’ children in baseball, she’ll think of him first as Coach Glamore, and not the boy whose penis she almost saw at nature camp in fifth grade.
Posted by Anne Glamore @ 9:15 am • Fashion: Turn To The Left!, I Birthed 'Em, Now What?, Tiny Kingdom Exclusive Stumble it!
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November 20th, 2006 at 10:24 am, Jana Says:
Thank you, Anne…I haven’t even thought about the book “Forever” by Judy Blume (or the movie Forever with that chick from Remington Steele) in over 25 years…but it does seem like only yesterday!!
November 20th, 2006 at 12:49 pm, amanda Says:
i mean, it’s good advice. inadvertent flashings really do stick with you.
(just a side note: i didn’t read “forever” until i was at least in my late teens/early twenties. i wanted to know what all the fuss was about. and i guess i have to admit this is a testament to late-blooming.)
November 20th, 2006 at 6:41 pm, Hopkinscutie Says:
Oh my goodness! HILARIOUS! I also grew up with only a sister and thus, did not know about male…things…for a long time. Like sophomore in college long time. I realize that makes my job as a “relationship advisor” incredibly funny and ironic, but I’m OK with that
I still have some Love’s Baby Soft powder right now, Anne! It’s really just an aid to waxing my eyebrows and not the feminine mask of odor that it is to most seventh graders, but apparently they still make it!
November 21st, 2006 at 8:35 pm, liz Says:
You gave him some excellent advice.
November 24th, 2006 at 8:52 pm, Leeny Says:
I remember Love’s Baby Soft! It does smell good!
November 26th, 2006 at 6:28 pm, Mrs.Boxershorts Says:
Just think if you HAD seen the penis! Now, THAT would have been an image from nature camp indelibly seared in your memory. Love from, Mrs. Boxershorts