Camp food

Bohuslav Martinu, composer; La Revue de Cuisine; Camerata de Geneve

In the Lutheran Church, we label “church camp” as “bible camp”. My first year at bible camp occurred the summer after the seventh grade. Camp NeSoDak (think Northeast South Dakota) sits on the shores of Lake Enemy Swim and has fairly rustic accommodations. My mom and the mothers of M.M. and D.G. packed us up with suitcases, sleeping bags, bug repellent and twenty dollars to spend at the canteen then stuffed us into Pastor B.’s car. We left on a Sunday in June after church for a week of swimming, hiking, worship and food.

On one afternoon, the camp counselors took us up an old fire tower out in the middle of a forest and it seems like we could see for a hundred miles or more. One evening, they took some of us halfway around the lake where we had hamburgers and a bonfire. Right before going to bed, at an appointed time with the kids who stayed behind at the camp-site, we yelled the Lord’s Prayer back and forth across the lake; we shouted the first two words, they shouted the next four, we took the four after that, and so on. We slept under the stars that night, just a few yards away from the water.

After lunch, in the dining room, on the day before we left to go home, somebody started a chant: WE WANT A KITCHEN BAND!! WE WANT A KITCHEN BAND!! WE WANT A KITCHEN BAND!! Soon, the three women who had been preparing all of our food during the week burst through the kitchen door, each of them banging on a pan with a metal spoon right in time with the chant. Then somebody started us off singing…

Oh, when the saints

Go marching in

Oh, when the saints go marching in.

How I long to be in that number

When the saints go marching in.

I don’t remember how many songs we sang after that one. The cooks kept playing their instruments; up this aisle and down that. We stomped our feet and banged on the tables. When we ran out of songs, our three culinary heroes stood up on top of one of the tables and bowed to all of us. And that was how we thanked them for all of the food preparation for the week. I often wondered if we could have gotten away with that at home.

My friend J.F. from the Marine Band recruited me in the formation of a sextet, clarinet, bassoon, trumpet, cello, violin and piano, that would perform “La Revue de Cuisine” on one of the Marine Band Chamber Recitals in 2000. Bohuslav Martinu originally wrote this music as a jazz ballet in 1927. From the ten movements in the original dance production, Mr. Martinu formed a four-movement suite that tells the ballet story a bit more succinctly. The Charleston and the Tango identify this composition as a 1920’s, almost European, art deco piece de resistance. The synopsis of the ballet comes across as very “Be Our Guest”-ish, with the marriage of Pot and Lid with the interfering of Twirling Stick and Broom. You can read about it here.

I went one more year to bible camp; this time to Outlaw Ranch in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The following year Mom and Dad sent me to South Dakota All-State Music camp. My biggest concern during “camp” years was bullying. I always felt that I easily wore the target. A part of me followed sheer logic: I should be safe at bible camp. Who’s ever heard of a Christian bully? They exist all the same. My younger sister D. was very brave. She went to music camp and faced the “music bullies” before going to bible camp. D., you’re my hero.

Credits: To Mom, and moms all over the world, for the cooking of the food. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, makes better potato salad than my Mom.