Writing and Drawing

Curled up in my sleeping bag, flashlight in hand, I turned page after page of “meanwhiles” and action sequences paired with colorful panels on thin yellowed older than me by at least seven years paper. I had four thin books borrowed from the barn stash, two of which were completely devoid of the glossy covers, the other two still had the remains of the outer shell. A portion of the covers had been removed, the top couple of inches on of the front sliced cleanly away. Evidence in the form of slivers through the first few pages indicated that when the other two still had their covers, a similar situation might have occurred. I wondered, perhaps, if these where stripped issues, something I was familiar with in my book store working days, sitting in the back wharehouse, removing covers of mass market (paperback) books and magazines to be sent back to the publishers, and the contents destroyed. Seems like a waste, I know I was always tempted to keep the castoff portions. If this was in fact the case, that these old issues of illustrative narratives somehow escaped destruction, well it made them seem a little bit more adventurous for the journey. True, yes, if they had been better preserved versions in more pristine condition they may have had some sort of monetary value, and maybe handled with more reverence, bags and boards, maybe even graded. But what fun is that on a night in tent when I was the only one too wound up to sleep? So I’m a little excitable, it’s true, but this was even without the pixie sticks I wasn’t permitted to purchase from the gas station where we stopped in to pee (Amanda convinced me it was a courtesy to refrain from unleashing the effects onto the other three people that would be in close quarters for the rest of the car ride).
The light coming from my wind-up style was in full strength to illuminate the pages I was reading in my tent, all three beams were blasting onto the well-spoken seaman with Spock like eyes and a green Speedo. Another character remarked that he spoke as if he was reading from a book, or something similar. There was a panel of two girls embracing, I made up my own mind and read between then lines with that one. It was very late, and at thirty I was engaging in a summer camp fantasy in the Catskills, color wars and all. I grew tired before my light faded and needed to be rewound. The mechanical whirl of the recharge, I feared, would most likely wake my tent mates. Up closer to the barn the fire still crackled and murmured conversation soothed this city girl into a Sub-Marnier themed sleep until the tacking up of the outhouse sheet for a door and chopping of firewood roused me in the morning. However the other two in my tent where still asleep, and there was a fantastic four to be read, so I stayed nestled between the protruding root to my stomach sleeping left and gulch to my right where the visible rock was removed before pinching our tent. I had to sort of nestle in to the hole, which gave me a bit of anchoring to minimize slipping down towards the corner at my feet. You see, it wasn’t until it was rather dark that we had gotten our sleeping quarters situated. There was already quite a bit of a slope to contend with and it wasn’t until later that we realized how rough the terrain we had chosen was, an inconvenience that seem to grow as the damp ground below dried and settled. It was a minor setback to a well needed out of the city weekend trip. My team, incidentally, had the task of maintaining the fire, which I have to say was a stroke of luck in my book. Rummaging through the woods, for dry kindling to start in the morning amongst the ferns was a lovely chore indeed. Also enjoyed, was breaking up the brush that needed cleared away, which also provided a nice accumulation of ash for cooking later in the evening. Through the day, members of the purple team could be seen snapping and stepping off twigs as well as sawing and swinging axes. I liked having a task, I have to say, being a guest and all, it felt nice to contribute. The day was filled with games and fun, points were scored, and the whole thing was taking in varying degrees of seriousness. We had an injury during volleyball, an obstruction during the egg toss (I was part of a pair that went all the way to the end until a cradled catch of an egg lobbed from one end of the gaming area smashed into the metal chair that was used to tie the finish lines for the other games. The judges on the deck above had mixed reviews. One woman felt sympathy towards the misfortune of being so close to an obstruction, but a boisterous voice said, “She should have looked” which made the call and I was out. We also lost the wheelbarrow race, mainly because we would rather forgo the points than to possibly induce injury on our youngest team member. I think we ended up in fourth place. Maybe we should have kept better score in badminton, and maybe our end of the evening skit would have benefited from better direction, and there is a slight possibility that we kinda sorta dropped the ball in the baking portion of the competition (rice crispy treats were no match for woven pie crust or cheese cakes.) However, all points aside our efforts as a team of fire maintainers glowed brightly well into the evening that was filled with music and fireside chats. So suck it, striped team! General cleanup? What’s that anyway? People pretty much took care of there own mess anyway, I didn’t see any of you wielding an axe in the name of friendly competition.