March 25, 1979

My daughter was conceived in a Boy Scout camp! (I know, too much information!) My then-husband Joe and I were area directors at the camp for the summer...and, well, there was no TV so we had to find ways to entertain ourselves...
Actually, no. That was the joke that we told people. Megan WAS conceived while we were there, but not because we were bored. The whole summer camp experience was pretty miserable. Let me back up...

Joe and I were married in December of 1977. We were both educators, living in a rented Craftman house in a little town called Monee, IL., and were looking for summer jobs after school was out. I happened to see an ad somewhere that the Rainbow Council, BSA, was looking for people (teachers) to work at their camp near Morris, IL, so we applied. They REALLY wanted Joe as Program Director because he was a former Boy Scout and a former school principal. They decided I could be the camp Nurse, if I would take a first aide course, but then changed their minds and made me the Ecology Director. We had to attend National Camp School for the BSA--a week-long camping experience--in order to qualify. Unfortunately, the only Camp School that was close enough for us to get to was in eastern Ohio, and the only offering that was available to us before our camp actually started was when school was still in session. Joe decided that we should just go and take the days as sick days from school. Like no one would notice that we were both gone at the same time for five days????

At first, the national scout executives told the local scout executive that had hired us that NCS had no facilities for women and that I couldn't attend. Supposedly, he told them that they'd have to "get over it" because they would be unable to keep me out. (These were Women's Lib times.) When we got to camp, I had to laugh. Facilities? Surely they jested! We were issued a bottomless canvas tent, and two cots. The only restroom was an outhouse. I shared the tent with my husband and made sure the outhouse door was locked when I used it. No biggie!

My presence in camp did cramp the guys' style some. On the first night there, we were divided into patrols (or platoons, or something) and each group was to come up with a name. One group was told that they had to clean up their act because a lady was present. Why? Their chant was, "Eat a beaver; save a bush"! Still, by the time the week was over, I had been accepted. Thus, I became the first woman in America to attend National Camp School for the BSA!

When we hit home after that, we were asked to explain our joint absence from school. The school district wasn't too fond of our excuse, so we were both docked a week's pay. Ouch! We were scraping by as it was! Stupid us!

One of us--not sure if it was Joe or me--decided to invite Joe's two children (Stephanie and Eric) to join us for the duration of the summer camp experience. Stephanie was 6 and Eric was 8. I was a brand new stepmother with virtually NO experience in mothering! The kids' mother agreed to let them come. She also had a summer job, so the children's being with us was going to help her out. We compiled a huge list of things we wanted the children to have. Their mom objected to all of the "requirements". (Years later, I understood the added expense to her budget. Joe didn't.) We were issued a three-bedroom cabin in the woods. The kids' bedrooms had bunkbeds. Ours didn't. In any case, we prepared for what we thought would be the experience of a lifetime for us and the kids.

Just before school ended and camp started, Joe left our Irish setter in the car on a hot May day "for just a little bit" while he had lunch with co-workers...and she died. He raced her to a vet but she could not be revived. Then he had to come and tell me at the end of my day at school. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that I scared myself with the strength of my shock and grief. The worst part for me was that the last thing I had said to Joe that morning was "It's going to be hot today. Don't leave Ann in the car." I was sick. Couldn't eat; could hardly breathe. It was awful. And it was in this mood that we started our camp experience.

We had to wear uniforms. Dark green Explorer shirts, khaki shorts, knee-high green socks with red tabs. My hair--always short and always curly--suffered in the humidity, but I still wore nail polish. The troops that drove in to be greeted by me, not expecting to see a woman, were shocked, thinking the BSA had employed a gay! Tell you what: I would gladly have worn ANYTHING but that uniform. I looked awful in it!

Our schedule was that we had 24 hours off each week. One day! It soon became obvious that I was going to have to spend my one day off in town doing laundry in a laudromat. Stephanie wet the bed virtually every night. I had her bed linens to wash, plus at least two outfits per day when she didn't make it to the bathroom in time. Eric stashed his dirty clothes under his bunk or in a trunk, along with spilled cans of Sprite--all mildewed. His laundry for the week would consist of two pairs of underwear and a sock or two. All I could find!

Poor Stephanie had never been away from home before, and we weren't offering much by way of entertainment or supervision. Eric didn't care. He was on a lark in the woods, but Steph suffered. I tried talking to her about things, to no avail. EVERY night was a struggle to get her to go to bed because of the bugs she either saw in her room or imagined. I lost patience. Joe didn't do much. We were all too tired every night to want to fight with children to go to bed! It wasn't much fun...for any of us. I think Grandma and Grandpa McNary came to visit one weekend...and maybe took the children home to visit their mother, before bringing them back. It was a couple of days of respite. Whew!

At the beginning of camp, Joe and I volunteered to be divers for the Lost Bather's drill. We were snorkelers and strong swimmers, so it seemed like the (bragging) thing to do. Kids at the waterfront were assigned buddies. When they entered the water, they put their "buddy tags" on a board. When they left the area, they were supposed to remove their tags. Invariably, someone would forget to remove his tag, launching an alarm to put divers in the water to look for a "lost bather". The first time this happened, I ran to the waterfront, stripping my clothes as I went...entered the water out of breath...and as I was diving in formation, realized that I was looking for a body...and what would I do if I actually found one? The "lost bather" was found, high and dry, at his campsite. He got chewed out for not following protocol, but I realized that this was probably not for me. The next time the alarm sounded, I was conveniently far enough away that I didn't respond!

Scouts were endlessly bringing me injured or abandoned baby animals. Most of the time, the animals were injured or abandoned BECAUSE of the Scouts. I did what I could, with not much experience. One such critter was a fledgling robin who seemed to have broken legs. I fed it cooked egg yolk with a pair of tweezers, at the advice of a veterinarian. It soon healed. That bird thought I was its mother! It followed me everywhere. Would perch on my shoulder. Flew at the screen of the cabin to be let in if we happened to leave it outside. Everyone was agog! One day, I came home to the cabin to find the bird wet near a shallow pan of water...and dead. Eric and the ranger's son had been playing there, but no one had ANY CLUE how the bird could have died. It broke my heart.

Another critter was a 13-lined ground squirrel that had been hit by a car. It looked dead but was still breathing. No blood. I got an eye dropper and put some sugar water in it, put it up to the little guy's mouth, and he started sucking on it! Over a week or two, he recovered. He had one leg that was probably permanently injured, but I eventually turned him loose in the woods. I always hoped I made a difference...

Then there were the five baby cottontails. Bunnies are highly susceptable to stress, so I had to be careful. I kept them in an aquarium tank, feeding them with an eye dropper. At night, I put the aquarium in the ecology shelter. It was just like a picnic shelter in a park. One night, we had a terrible thunderstorm with lots of lightning and very loud thunder...and the next day, every one of the bunnies was dead. There were no marks on them. I could only assume that they died of fear in the storm.

As I attended to the critters, Joe accused me of caring more for the animals than his children. I resented the accusation. I was doing more for his children than he was...but it didn't matter. I accused him of not caring about our dog...that he had always resented my attachment to her. He said he KNEW that would come up...and so it went. In the first summer of our married year, we weren't very happy with each other!

There were scout people not happy with me, too. Several scouts submitted garbage to me as requirements for ecology badges. They not only didn't fit the requirements, they didn't even fit the spirit of the requirements. I refused to pass them. Their Scoutmasters were angry. I got the feeling that there was an assumption that if a scout attended camp, he would be passed on things. Pretty poor message to send to boys--or girls!

The camp employees also consisted of "Comissioners " who inspected troop campsites for a daily award. Joe put all of us on an inspection rotation--including me. I had never done anything like this before. I was totally impressed by things that the troops did in their campsites. The Comissioners, however, complained about my high praise and resented that someone beside them should be given the inspection job. Understand that the mean age of camp employees was probably 19/20, if you took me and Joe out of the equation. We were both in our early 30s. There was one other dude in his 30s. I did what I had to do...and tried to defend myself...but it wasn't easy.

The other dude in his 30s was assigned with me to clean/inspect the mess hall once. He said something to me, like, "I found a roach." I said, "Oh...I know! We have them all over our cabin!" At that point, he put his arm around my shoulder and said quietly, "Peg...not THAT kind of roach." I felt so stupid!!!!

It was in this atmosphere that Megan McNary was created. We returned home from the dead dog and unhappy kid situation, only to discover that I was pregnant. Wish I had a happier story! Leading up to my baby's 33rd birthday on March 25th... My next post will be about that night!