Years ago, while living out my high school life as a closeted homosexual pervert, my mother decided I needed to go to a Christian summer camp and sleep in a cabin full of girls.
We sang some Christian songs each night and spent our days in the sun swimming and tanning and sometimes talking about our relationship with the Lord. I didn’t tell anyone about how, during my sixth grade religion class, I learned what a homosexual was and, for the first of many times, thought I might be one.
Camp wasn’t all bad. We spent most of the time lounging about a remote part of Canada in the sun, away from our parents. We had theme dinners. I don’t know who the guys in this picture are, but the woman in the middle was our counselor and the girl between us is named Lisa. Lisa was the object of my friend Dave’s affection. Once, I asked Dave out to a dance and he said yes. He called me back not even five minutes later and said, actually, no. He was going to ask Lisa instead.
My favorite thing about the camp was that every morning and every evening they played Closer to Fine by the Indigo Girls. It brings me a certain tiny bit of joy knowing my high school Christian summer camp’s theme song was a popular lesbian anthem.