Writers Corner for July 20, 2012

TREBLE CLEF

Coeur d'Alene, Idaho

"Let us tune you up for a life in the Upper Register!"

Dear Mrs. ___________,

On behalf of the staff here at CAMP TREBLE CLEF, I want to sincerely thank you for choosing our facility for ________'s summer outing this year. __________ was an enthusiastic and eager participant in our varied curriculum and conducted himself as a model "camper." He kept his living area very tidy; was always punctual for meals and classes (especially meals, ha, ha) and a paradigm of decorum and civility toward staff and fellow "campers."

It is our professional judgement, Ma'am, that _________ shows great potential in music and we strongly urge you to provide him with all the encouragement and opportunity you can muster. This will be very gratifying for you AND __________.

And, of course, what would Summer Camp be without a prank or two? Fortunately, our insurance carrier has agreed to replace the kitchen windows and underwrite the cost of cleanup and repainting. Mr. Stelling, the adjustor, was a bit surly at first, claiming the damage was technically the result of a criminal act and that his company had absolutely NO responsibility to provide relief. However, there was a dramatic change in his attitude after I showed him a candid photo of an interlude he had on a Montana sheep ranch last summer. Unfortunately, I haven't had much luck assuaging the shattered ego of our cook, Mr. Brunning. (Mr. Brunning, by the way, is a dear, sweet, gentle soul.) It was his great misfortune to have just unlocked the kitchen door at 5 a.m. and took the full brunt of the eruption head on! Although the "fallout" from this blast was in no way life-treatening, the trauma and physical accretion on his person had a significant demoralizing effect on Mr. Brunning's outlook on life. And the unbridled snickering and outright guffaws emanating from the nearby cabins did little to ease his discomfiture. And, I must say, I was somewhat shocked by Mr. Brunning's uncharacteristic and very uncharitable remarks he uttered concerning the parentage of those who perpetrated this indignity upon him. Fortunately, the Lutheran camp down the road graciously took us in for meals in the interim.

Well, wouldn't you know, the Shrine Circus folks, nearby, were all poised to charge us with grand theft and other assorted mischiefs right off the bat. We finally convinced them that putting the matter out in the public forum would very likely precipitate a rash of copycat activity, to their detriment. They mulled this over briefly, and, taking into account the utter mess we were left with, decided to forgo any litigation, much to our great relief! They, too, were much relieved to get their elephant back in, more or less, one piece.

The circus veterinarian who attended "Bertha" at the scene was totally non-plussed. We finally deduced she had ingested about 20 gallons of pre-soaking navy beans during the night. The digestive process culminated in a gigantic flatulent emission which devastated windows and coated the kitchen's interior (and Mr. Brunning's exterior) with a layer of material I choose not to describe. I did point out to Mr. Brunning that there was an up-side to all this: granted we had lost 20 gallons of beans, but we gained a whole year's worth of fertilizer. Mr. Brunning was not impressed.

After the animal was returned to her proper venue, we, of course, had a few questions to pose to our precocious charges: 1) How in the world did they lure her away from the circus? and 2) How did they get her into the kitchen? We were met with such a display of Angelic innocence that any rancor we felt was dissipated forthwith.

Oh well, boys will be boys, I guess. Thankfully, there were no real casualties, Mr. Brunning's bruised ego, notwithstanding. I would suggest, however, that ________avoid any personal contact with Mr. Brunning for the foreseeable future.

Well, that about wraps it up, Ma'am, and I hope you have an enjoyable summer. My analyst is very optimistic about my future here, so there is light at the end of the tunnel after all.

Very Sincerely,

- Joseph P. Dion, Coeur d'Alene

CAMP TREBLE CLEF

•••

A CAREFREE - BAREFOOT BOY

Rumpled hair - inward joy-

Heavens to Betsy-once was I

A carefree barefoot boy.

Across fresh stubble field,

I carefree flew

Crowned by sky of blue.

Beside me also barefoot bound,

My Heinz 57 pure bred

Faithful romping hound.

School bell of the past,

Ceases to chime and toll.

Wore out shoes - off at last.

Joys of nature - again I knew,

By tickling green grass,

Still damp by late night dew.

Penniless, but rich beyond,

Societies rigid rules

As another happy day dawns.

Nature unfolds lessons,

Not taught in books.

But ones of true blessins.

The squirrel flits and prattles,

As tree branches,

He carelessly straddles.

I sit not in a scorners seat,

I hustle and rustle

On these bare bound feet.

For on this day as another day,

I've much to learn.

Chasing sunbeams that tend to stray.

Adults rule world today,

I acquire as I play

And will rule on my day.

My-oh-my - inward joy,

Heavens to Betsy - once was I

A carefree barefoot boy.

- Larry L. Laws, Dalton Gardens

•••

THE PRIZE

When I count up my accomplishments,

as we all do later in life,

I find I have been quite ordinary..

Working Mother, working wife.

My books are still unwritten.

My songs only my heart sings.

My masterpiece is still unpainted.

Too busy doing ordinary things.

The world doesn't know of my existence.

History will not record my name.

No movie will brave my struggle.

I won't have the critics acclaim.

Ah, but I am really not ordinary.

For I won the world's greatest prize.

I have held in my arms children I bore

And seen love in my grandchildren's eyes.

- Sara Lowery, Hayden

•••

Word-slingers wanted.

Send us your poems, your prose, essays and anecdotes. We'll publish them here.

The Press Writers Corner features original, creative writing submitted by our readers. We publish the column most Fridays in the North Idaho Life section of the print edition of The Press.

Send your Writers Corner submissions to Maureen Dolan, [email protected].

We prefer email submissions, and ask that you limit the length of your short stories, essays and poems. Please include your hometown with your submission.

You can send hard-copies by mail to Maureen Dolan at The Press, 201 Second St., Coeur d'Alene, ID 83814.