Randy appeared at camp in time for Thursday’s Chapel service. His uniform was brand new. A Commissioner, a Lutheran Pastor had brought him down. Found out he’d never done Scouting before, and was going to be the Chaplain. He played his guitar and sang for that first chapel service. He was really friendly, laughed a lot, and enjoyed being the center of attention.
The summer progressed and Randy became best friends with the pool staff, helping in waterfront activities as much as possible. He and a life guard named John got really close, and Randy started wearing John’s skimpy Speedo’s. Everyone loved Randy, and Randy was everyone’s friend. I didn’t trust him.
Since I was camping, cooking and hiking counselor, I spent most of my time away from the dining hall, leading cookouts, overnight camp outs, and early morning 5 mile hikes. I didn’t interact with the late night social set, nor the “underwear gang”
The “underwear gang” was led by the waterfront director and included the life guards, the program director, and some kitchen staff guys.
The “underwear gang” got together every night at bedtime and read sexy paperback books to each other (Amish Love was the favorite). They laid around in the Directors’ tent in their underwear (righty whities and T shirts) and the challenge was to listen to, or be designated reader of, the graphic descriptions of heterosexual sex. The unspoken goal was to not get a stiffy or leak precum. Most of the guys sat bent over, or with a pillow over their crotches. Randy was always the laughing center of the group. I stayed busy with equipment cleanup and reading in my tent. I wasn’t invited to join in the festivities.
Camp finished. I was elected OA Lodge Vice Chief, and everyone went back home. I went back to work with my dad at the slaughterhouse, before and after school and weekends. Since I’d finished my Eagle, I didn’t have anything to do in Scouts, and my only activity was weekly troop meetings helping the younger Scouts with advancement.
I was really lonely, with working before and after school and weekends, and no opportunity to interact with guys my age from Scouts. They all lived in the small city an hour away from my little town.
I had no friends in school. My father didn’t approve of any of the kids my age. They were either “toughs”, rich kids, or “fairies” (his words). When I was 12, he’d told my brothers and I, “If I thought one of my boys was ‘queer’, I’d kill him myself and put him out of his misery.” I lived in dread of my father.
I’d played lots of sports in school until two things happened.
First, our varsity basketball coach singled me out for humiliation in front of all the athletes and their parents at a sports banquet. He announced that I, using my name, shouldn’t come out for basketball next year because I couldn’t make his team. My father accused me of humiliating HIM in front of HIS friends.
The second thing happened at track practice shortly after. I was a good runner. I was first in the quarter mile, and ran on the varsity mile relay team. I was only a freshman. After practice, I was getting dressed next to a really popular guy on our team. We were talking and joking. Three other popular guys came up behind us and said, “You know you’re talking to a ‘queer’, don’tcha?” The guy next to me turned bright red from his blond head to his feet. He turned away. I finished dressing and left. Next day, the guy next to me had moved to the other side of the locker room, and he and his friends never spoke to me again.
I hadn’t thought it could get any worse after that. But my senior year proved I had no idea how bad it could get.
(Next chapter – Randy the Next Summer)