System Architect

In the month that passed before I would go to camp, I took the time to harvest more vegetables from the garden. The prickly cucumbers came next. I was surprised that I didn’t bleed with just how much I hurt my fingers picking them! The lettuce was a lot easier to harvest, thankfully.

I also got a chance to compare the experience gained by harvesting similar plants that weren’t grown by me at Grandpa Milton’s house. What I discovered was intriguing. The amount of experience was about two-thirds as compared with the plants I’d raised—after accounting for harvesting technique and quality.

In some ways, that meant I would be able to get a lot more by doing everything on my own. At the same time, was the extra fifty percent experience worth the extra effort expended? I wasn’t sure. I’d also have to see how much I had to put into growing my own materials for me to get more experience. Was it just a hard fifty percent or on a sliding scale? More investigation was required.

Then it was the first day of camp. Mom dropped me off in the morning. The camp was set on a large plot of wooded land. I had to assemble with the other campers on a large mostly shaded field that was surrounded by a pole fence. Each age group and gender had their own group—sometimes more than one. I found my group after getting escorted there by one of the staff.

The group ended up being ten boys aged six and seven. I wasn’t the smallest of the boys, but I wasn’t far off. We had two counselors—both boys, one teen and one in his early twenties. The older one took attendance while the counter kept us in line.

“Alright,” the older counselor said. “My name is Adam. My co-counselor is Brian—“

Brian waved when his name was called.

“—First thing we need to do is come up with a name. Any suggestions? Say your name and your idea so we can get to know each other.”

“Alex, ‘The Fighting Dragons’!” one of the taller boys—Alex—shouted.

“That’s good. Any others?”

“Micah, ‘Blue Stars’!” added a pudgy boy.

“Mmmm.”

I decided to throw my own idea in the ring based upon the idea that we were all about six.

“Eddy, ‘The Six Shooters’!”

“Good one. Any more?”

A couple other names got shouted out but the response to them from the other boys was fairly weak. After not hearing any more ideas, the counselors put the name to a vote.

“Alright, raise your hands if you want ‘The Fighting Dragons’!”

Six hands went up, including mine. I thought it was a pretty good name.

“’Blue Stars’?”

Seven hands went up for that one—though mine did not. Micah shot a look at the handful of us that didn’t vote for it. My suggestion only got five votes while none of the others after broke three votes. ‘Blue Stars’ was declared the winner.

Micah had a smug look on his face. I shook my head and rolled my eyes. He glared at me for an uncomfortably long time before returning to taking his proverbial victory lap. Several of the other boys nearby to him began chatting with him so I was able to ignore him. Thankfully, the first activity of the day came immediately after.

“Follow me, Blue Stars,” Adam said. “We’re going to soccer.”

I heard a couple of groans but most of the campers were excited to run around. The walk to the soccer field wasn’t far. It was just across a small dirt track that ran along the other side of the pole fence from where we were. One of the boys tried to climb through the fence instead of going around once he figured out where we were going but only got a reprimand for his efforts.

When we arrived at the field, Brian disappeared to get a ball while Adam held our attention. We were split into two teams of five. Not being terribly fast, I chose defense. I knew I could park the bus and stifle the strikers from the other team—at least at this level of competition.

My squad consisted of me and Alex on defense, Juan and Michael up front, and Mac as our goalie. This formation was mirrored on the other side. Juan got to kick off and passed to Michael after winning the coin flip. I watched the ball scoot down the field. Alex moved up to midfield and I followed but kept a bit farther behind just in case.

The other team swarmed Juan and Michael. It was more effective than it should have been. Michael looked like he played some soccer, but Juan was struggling. Micah stole the ball from him and evaded Michael’s attempt to get it back. He cruised onto our half of the field. I positions myself between him and the goal.

Micah was quick, but I had years of experience on my side. Even if my body wasn’t exactly what I had been used to before I returned, it had been over a year now. I was in tune with my body. I backpedaled, giving ground for time. I didn’t dare block Mac’s view of the ball, so when I got close to the box, I charged Micah. He sneered at me. I smiled back as I got close. His expression changed when he realized I wasn’t going to stop or flail at the ball. Instead, I predicted where he would go based on his amateurish style an got a foot on the ball before he could shoot—he certainly didn’t strike me as the kind of boy to pass. The ball scooted over to Alex who then passed it back up to Juan.

The ball went back and forth for a while. After several shots by both sides from entirely too far from the net, our team scored one. That was answered shortly thereafter by the other team. By the end of the sixty-minute game, the score was tied at 2-2.

“That was a good game,” Brian said to both teams after making us all high-five at the end.

“At the end of the camping season, we’re going to have a competition,” Adam added. “We’ll be going up against other groups of campers. The Blue Stars will be the best, right?”

“Yeah!” came several voices.

It was half-hearted at best.

“I can’t hear you!” Adam called back. The Blue Stars will be the best, right?”

“YEAH!”

It took all my strength to not roll my eyes. It was just too cringy.

“Blue Stars, line up and follow me!” Adam announced.

I stood with Mac while we strolled to the next activity behind Juan.

“I really love racing games,” Mac told me excitedly. “Especially the ones where you can crash and blow up other cars!”

I smiled and nodded.

“That does sound like fun,” I said.

“Yeah! You know, Mom just got me this game recently—“

Mac told me all about the game and how much fun he was having with it. I couldn’t say much. The boy was a ball of energy with a clear focus and love. I appreciated just how straightforward children were. I didn’t have to guess how they felt when they wore their emotions on their sleeves. Just the simplicity of it was refreshing after a year in college.

“—boom, crash! It was awesome!” Mac finished.

We arrived at a wooden shelter that only had walls on three of the sides. Inside were six picnic benches—enough room for two groups at the same time. A sign on the outside of the shelter indicated that it was for arts and crafts. Already seated at their tables was a group of girls.

“Eww,” I heard Micah complain. “Why are there girls here?”

“We’re here first,” one of the girls retorted.

A handful of people on both sides started making rude remarks and gestures towards each other.

“Campers,” said an older woman from the far side of the shelter. “There won’t be any of that in my room.”

She stared at everyone with a withering look. That was enough to cow the rowdier campers.

I sat next to Mac and waited for the rest of the boys to settle in. The woman began passing out paper and popsicle sticks to each table. We also got a couple bottles of glue to share as well.

“Today, you can make whatever you like with the materials in front of you,” she said. “Maybe you want to make a log cabin, or a fan to cool yourself with. There are many options! If you need anything, just raise your hand and I’ll come over. After you’re done today, I’ll save what you’ve made on the side to dry. Please make sure you write your name on your project somewhere.”

I took a piece of paper and made it into a square by making two diagonal folds and tearing off the excess strip. I turned the square of paper upside down. It was time to consider what to make.

The first thing would have been the easiest: a square stacked house. I rejected the idea simply because it was easy and boring. I wanted to try making something else—even if that something else was some kind of abstract art. I eventually settled on making a box.

I turned another piece of paper into a square before splitting both into four squares each. To each smaller square, I applied a thin layer of glue and a row of popsicle sticks on top to create a flat side. The paper was there to prevent the popsicle sticks from moving around too much so that the glue could dry properly.

From the excess strips of paper, I fashioned eight hinges. Each hinge was then glued to the dry sides of two walls. I carefully did this until I had assembled a cross pattern. Then I let the glue dry some before bending the paper such that the walls would be standing vertically. To reinforce these new corners, I glued more hinges on both the inside and outside of the box. The last wall—the lid—is where I wrote my name.

While it wasn’t anything special, I felt pleased with what I had created in the short amount of time I had. Since I was done early, I looked around at what they others were doing. Mac created a car out of popsicle sticks on the paper and was excitedly telling me how it could go off of ramps and into space. I nodded along.

“It feels weird!” Alex exclaimed while peeling bits of glue from his finger.

They were absolutely caked with glue. I could see that he had laid a couple sticks on the paper before dumping out a lot of glue and dusting it with some glitter. I guessed that the pleasure of peeling glue took over around that point.

When the time was up, I carefully moved my box to an open place and set it to dry. It looked like it was holding well enough, but only time would tell if it stayed upright the whole time.

The next hour was lunch. Definitely the best part of the day so far. Lunch was served in a large shelter with many tables in it. It had no walls but would probably be enough space to keep all the campers dry if it rained.

For lunch, I had a choice between chicken strips and a burger that looked a little suspect. I chose the chicken and piled on a few fries to go with it. Like I had In my youth, I filled a small paper cup with mayo, ketchup, and a dash of mustard for dipping.

“What’s that?” Mac asked when I sat down with him.

“For the fries and chicken,” I said while stirring the mixture together with one of the crispier fries.

“Is it good?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s in it?”

I told him. He jumped up and made the same mix as I had. I saw his face light up when he took a bite of a fry dipped in it.

“Yummy!” he exclaimed.

I smiled and began to eat my food. A couple of the other boys joined us to chat and eat. I finished quickly but stayed with the others until it was time for the next activity.