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Good dormparents. The Stricklands treated us with love. They were very caring. Very polite. Very polished.
We had fun.
Barney fell from the top of the manga tree.
James threw the big bowl of fresh fruit salad in the garbage.
Gauntt the Older sustained less than life-threatening injuries on that bike ramp near where we had a dirt-clod war with Brazilian kids (before we got the post about calling out in love). They were on our side of the fence, Gauntt had driven part of his bike deep into his lower right extremity (through no fault of the Brazilians, nor a Knievel youtube video), and I think the sight of blood had us whipped into a patriotic frenzy...until an adult yelled at us from the Jane House, whereupon we had to retreat, while one of our richer brethren crossed into the demilitarized zone to buy a picolé from one of the invaders. Back at the dorm, Gauntt milked his injuries for all he was worth...extra snack, got to stay up later while he worked through his pain, after describing to the females his attempted jump over the Snake River canyon dirt clod ammo dump as though his courageous act merited some medal of honor....as if......he had a sissy bar on the back of his bike.
I'm counting 20 total in the dorm, and guessing between 14 and 16 made the trip "downtown" to get ice cream....at the same time...in that little green car.
The World Book Encyclopedias, including the 1967 yearbook....Caylor and I learned a lot while devouring snack....I'll take those any day over an iPad, Kindle Fire, Google Chrome.....well, not Google Chrome, and not over the map function on my phone.
The little work details.....easy as pie compared to Stalag 79 the next year.
The creak of the spring on the door to the house at 6:00 a.m.....and the explosion of activity which followed as 16 human beings dressed, swept, mopped, laughed....then off to breakfast at 6:55, and if it was the end of the six weeks grading period, Kerry, Caylor, and I would eat as much as possible to see who would weigh the most when Aunt Gill put us on the scale to register our weight for the report cards.
Nap time on Sunday afternoon. Allegedly, one hour of absolute silence, so young minds could be refreshed for the week ahead. Reality: more activity than during the "ball drop" at Times Square. Caylor, James and Joel, in strict observance of the one-hour code of silence which included an oft-violated "don't leave your room", found new ways to employ shoes and egg shells for storing extra tea from lunch (why did they have egg shells in their rooms, and how much can you really fit in an egg shell, and why not just use the bathroom)
We played shark on the mutirama, we rode our bikes a lot. Retreat at ACAMBAGO was fun. And there was nothing like seeing a white Opala from Shekinah cross the mata-burro at the end of the semester, after we spent a whole day looking out the front window of the dorm, hoping the next dust cloud on the road would be our parents.
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