R IS FOR RIFLERY

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The summer before seventh grade was the first time I went to Stony Glen Camp.  For five weeks during the months of July and August, the Pioneer Girl Organization rented out the site and it was all girls all the time.  That year I went for just one week.  However, I loved it so much that each year I would increase my time at camp until, by the time I was in high school, I was staying for the duration.

Each week every camper participated in three activities every day.  One of the choices was Riflery.  I signed up that first week, even though there was an additional cost, and my money for extras was limited.   It turned out that before anyone was even allowed to touch one of the .22 rifles, there was a list of 10 rules that had to be memorized.  These were Safety Rules.  It became apparent very quickly that this was Serious Business and not Fun and Games.  There was always a sense of Respect on the Range. 

I discovered that I loved to target shoot that first year, even though I was not very good at it.  I continued to shoot every year after that when I came to camp.  As I started staying longer, and staying consecutive weeks, my shooting started showing improvement.

One year we had an Instructor who was Outstanding.  It was actually a He.  He was married to one of our counselors who was there all summer.  He not only taught all of the Riflery classes, but he would let us shoot on our Free Time if we wanted.  If we wanted??? I was there every day.  He also let us shoot the same rifle every time.  They were numbered.  Mine was number 2.  It wasn't perfect.  The sighting was off on it.  However, if I adjusted it slightly below the dark cirlce and to the left, I could cluster my shots in the dark black bulls-eye area.  Under his tutelage, I soared up through the ranks.  Marksman.  Marksman First Class.  Sharpshooter.  If I'd had a few more weeks with him, I don't know how high I'd have climbed!!!  It was a wonderful experience.

Take a deep breath.  Sight just slightly below and to the left of the black dot on the target.  Let half of my breath out.  Slowly pull the trigger.   Repeat five more times.  Done.   Wait until the "All Clear On the Range."  Go get that target.

After I graduated CILT, graduated college, and quit that job in New York, I had a chance to go back to camp for one summer as a counselor.  They needed a Riflery Instructor.  So, I went through a Training Class with the NRA and was Certified.  It was one of the most rewarding and scary things I have ever done.  For those five weeks, it was MY job to make the girls in my class not only better marksmen, but to always respect the weapon.  I had one Hard Head during those five weeks, who probably will be responsible for a few of my gray hairs in the future, but I think even she got The Message by the time it was all said and done.

Example of an Idiot with a Firearm:

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Rating: Passion  

Have you ever been to the gun range and fired a rifle or handgun?  If so, did you take a class or have an instructor who made you feel the responsibility of being safe with your gun at all times?  Did you experience a thrill when you learned how to shoot accurately at the target?   Have you ever thoroughly enjoyed something that you never thought that you would?

DAY 17: LETTER TO SOMEONE FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD

Dear Stony Glen Camp,

The first time I set foot on your grounds was the summer between sixth and seventh grade. I only stayed for one week, but I knew I would come back the following summer. I loved everything about you. I had no idea when I signed up to take Riflery as one of my three summer activities that it would turn into something that I loved. Loved and Respected. The cabin I stayed in that summer didn't have electricity; in fact, most of the cabins didn't have electricity, so I became well acquainted with where my flashlight was at all times. I never was all that keen on swimming in the lake, but I loved to slip down there alone at quiet times for contemplation and reflection. This was church camp, and I was doing a lot of thinking about God, Jesus, me, and how that picture all fit together.

One of the things I loved best was all of the singing. We sang after each meal in the dining hall. After breakfast, the counselors who played guitar strapped them on, and we sang songs about God. Some of them were so pretty that they squeezed my heart hard. At lunch and dinner, the high schoolers led the songs. They didn't stand up or anything. They just took control by leading. Those were all fun songs acapella style. At night, we broke apart by division and did an evening activity. Those were always so much fun. That meant that four or five cabins would join up (girls all in the same age range). I don't remember so well now what the fun things were that first year. I know that as time went on one of my all-time favorites was Capture The Flag. After the fun was over, we always made a campfire, sang some more, a counselor gave the message, and then we went to bed. I always slept really well at camp.

My riflery obsession eventually led me to try my hand at archery. I never was quite as good an archer as I would have liked. I also became dissatisfied very quickly with just one week of camp. One week quickly turned into two weeks. Two eventually turned four. I would have stayed five, but I was too old by that time. I was already there for the duration of camp. I liked camp so much that I took the Camper In Leadership Training Program (CILT) when I was in high school. That took two years of overall time and two weeks of camp time for two years.

That second year of camp it hit me like a rocket launcher that at the end of the second week I would no longer be a camper. I would graduate CILT, and they would expect me to be a counselor. That meant that I could no longer hang out with my friends. My days of living at Sam Grey were over. This was devastating. Sam Grey was the best place ever. Sam Grey was this A-Frame house with electricity set far away from the rest of the camp, where the high school kids lived. Sam Grey was the bomb. I never wanted to leave Sam Grey. How did I not see this coming? Ironically enough, the theme song for camp this year couldn't have explained my predicament any better than I could. The chorus started like this: "Mmmmm I want to linger, Mmmm a little longer, Mmmm a little longer here with you." We sang it every day. Check that. Everyone but me sang it every day. I cried through it every day. Two weeks of crying.

Adulthood was coming for me and I wasn't ready. They didn't put it in the manual. I checked. I kept praying for time to stop or slow down and it steadily moved forward until the day of graduation. One day I was a camper and the next I wasn't. Snap. The next three weeks I was a counselor. I was a fairly miserable counselor, but I was a counselor nonetheless. The following summer, after my senior year of high school, I came back as a counselor and it was completely different. I knew I was coming in as a counselor, so this summer was I was perfectly aware that I was a grown up now. Being a counselor this time around was a lot of fun.

Stony Glen Camp, so many of my best memories happened with you. I learned so many things about fire building, riflery, archery, people, and myself, that I wouldn't have learned if not for you. Most people transition into adulthood so seamlessly that they are only vaguely aware that it is happening. One day they wake up and realize that it snuck up on them, passed them by, and they cannot pinpoint the when or the where. That is not my story. I know exactly when and where it happened. It wasn't painless, easy, or desirable. I was dragged through the doors of adulthood kicking, screaming, and crying, because I knew that something beautiful was dying. I would never get it back and there wasn't anything I wanted more. However, you are patient and waited for me to come and appreciate you from my new perspective of adulthood. I did. That next summer I realized it was my privilege to give each girl the wonderful experience that I had every year. If they left with a heart filled with more love, faith, songs, confidence, and joy, then I had done my job.

I haven't been back to see you in almost twenty years, but I can picture you clearly in my mind. The website indicates that you have undergone some changes. I prefer not to think of that. I like to picture you the way I remember you. On those nights when I wake up, and cannot fall back to sleep, I imagine myself in Milner Cabin. It is the only cabin close enough to the waterfalls that you can lie in bed and hear the water as it goes over the falls. When I was in junior high school, I prayed every year that I was placed in Milner Cabin so that I could fall asleep listening to those falls. The sound of those waterfalls is still one of the best sounds I've ever heard.

Love,
Robin


image stolen from Miss Angie at My So-Called Chaos