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James Hall

Hard to believe that there are no stories from this decade -- the '50s -- but I suppose memories fade with time. Camp was very different in some ways (and much the same in others) -- there were two four week sessions, with the opportunity to stay over the break, which I did. I was very much a loner then -- and still am -- but some of the memories linger. I learned to sail there (Class D and E Inland Lake scows -- in later years I owned an E) and also to canoe -- perhaps not well as our teacher did (an Indian, whose name, regrettable, I've forgotten) but passably; something I've never given up. Games, particularly Capture the Flag! In those days we had a daily short chapel, plus Sunday -- the highlight of the daily chapel was that it concluded the Taps, by a lone bugler across the lake, just at sunset. There were three overnight canoe camping trips -- one to a lake I don't recall; one to Big Race Lake (and we all got caught in the most awful rainstorm on the far side of the lake from the camp -- oh well) and one, over the break, on the St. Louis river -- during which I discovered that one runs rapids one canoe at a time, by the expedient of starting my canoe a bit too early (a lovely wooden Old Town) and ramming the preceding canoe (a Grumman) amidships when they'd gotten caught between two rocks and flipped. Didn't do the Grumman any good at all... so we were short one canoe for the rest of the trip. But good times...