Ski

Dear Nelsongirl, You are not going to believe this, and I hope this message gets to you now ten years after you posted your e-mail; but I was your dad's tent-mate at Chin-Be-Gota during the summer of 1969. Lloyd and I were great friends, but our paths diverged and we lost track of one another over the years. His lady friend visited one week that summer. I wish I could remember her name: a pretty woman with blonde hair I think. Was she your mother? Below you will find something I just posted on the Chin-Be-Gota website. Please let me know if you get this message. John Scepanski (email address hidden for your privacy - RS moderator) No, Steve, I come from Green Bay, WI. The summer of 1969 I had just graduated from the U. of Wisconsin and was kind of foot loose and fancy free. I am an Eagle Scout and Brotherhood OA. My cousin's husband, Frank Wergin, was one of the scouting professionals in Aurora. Frank and Cheryl knew I was an aficionado of swimming and water sports. So, they asked if I would be interested in the Aquatics Director’s position at CBG. Frank was camp director that year. Steve, if not the best summer of my life, that summer ranks in the top three. The junior staff with me were Bert Grey, Mike Dannenberg, Bill Dunham, and Steve Karich. They were all outstanding. Oh, everybody was outstanding. I could write a book. My tent mate, by the way, was Lloyd Nelson, another great guy. Lloyd was Field Sports Director. He bought a de-scented skunk from somewhere nearby and kept that damn skunk in a cage in our tent. Every time I entered our tent, I'd give the cage a little rattle (now I kind of regret it as, I suppose, a bit of cruelty to an innocent animal) -- and the skunk would pound the floor and turn its backside to me, tail up. Of course, nothing came out. Also, we had The Great Turtle Race of Chin-Be-Gota toward the end of the summer. Frank had told the senior staff that as the summer wore on the junior staff often got antsy and a little bit homesick, missing their girlfriends, etc. Frank recommended that we look for ways to liven up those last couple of weeks. The aquatics staff had captured a full-sized snapping turtle that we called “Sir Royal” something-or-other. We kept Sir Royal in a cardboard box. According to tradition, we challenged the Scoutcraft staff to a turtle race. They came up with a puny, little painted turtle about one-100th the size of Sir Royal. We drew a 50 foot in diameter circle in the gravel of the parking lot and put our racing turtles in the center and turned them loose. Nothing happened! Neither turtle moved. We learned later that both teams had approached the camp nurse for a shot of adrenaline, or something surreptitiously administered just before the race. The nurse went along, and both turtles got a shot. Little did we know that whatever chemical the nurse shot into our turtles acted initially as a downer before it became an upper. Scoutcraft’s little painted turtle woke up first and shot like a rocket into the bushes and got away. In my next message, I will explain “the rest of the story.” John