Why couldn’t I just be Daisy?

Eddo posted a story about Kanakuk Kamps today and it got me thinking. Well, it really doesn’t take much to get me reminiscing about Kamp because it summed up the best 6 summers of my life. The funny thing is that I don’t know if I can really share how much each of those three months out of the year meant to me. Some of my best friends were made at kamp, friends that I will have for a lifetime. Some of my best and most fun memories come from kamp: climbing on the blob from the side of the pool and falling in fully dressed, deep lake diving for a sunken boat, thunder muffins, midnight runs to night watch, tornadoes, the stories keeps coming.

But today, in honor of Eddie’s post on TP 1, I will recount a story that is funny.

As with all that I seem to do, my job at kamp was administrative. My first summer I worked in the kitchen (great place to have servanthood beat into your body) and then the next summer I worked in the office. After that I spent four years running the K-7 (our specific kamp) office. I LOVED it. I got to spend time with all the kids whenever I wanted, I got to let my organized and administrative mind go crazy, and I got to work with the greatest girls and pour into their lives.

Kamp loves to give titles to all it’s workers. There is the pool daddy (runs the pool), dock daddy (runs the lake), kitchikomos (girls that work in the dining hall), DHDL (dining hall discipleship leader), CIT (counselors in training), and then me, the head office girl, otherwise known as the HOG. Yep, my title spelled HOG.

Now this creates so many opportunities for jokes and I decided early on to be the person that spearheaded most of these. I accepted the title of HOG, in fact I embraced it. I was the HOG and I was proud of it. Well that is until one moment ruined it all.

One day I was standing on the front porch of our office watching TP 1 (the youngest boys in kamp, ages 6-8) march down the road. As I watched, their counselor looked up at me and waved, I returned the way and yelled out a hello to the entire TP. Micah (the counselor) gathered the boys together and chatted with them for a second.

Then in unison all 12 little boys cried out,

“HI, BOSS HOG”

Now I’m not sure what you think of when you hear the words BOSS HOG, but a fat man in a white suit that chases down the Duke boys is what comes to my mind. I guess I just watched a lot of the Dukes of Hazzard growing up.

So I stood there in shock with my mouth gaping open. How do you respond to 12 cute little boys calling you a FAT MAN IN A WHITE SUIT.

For the rest of the week those 12 little boys knew nothing about me but that I was the BOSS HOG. For 7 days I was greeted in that manner each time they saw me. In fact I think they sought me out to call me BOSS HOG.

There is humor in a 6 year old calling a young 20 something girl BOSS HOG, but not that much humor. As the name began to catch on with the counselors and other kampers I had to take action. HOG is one thing but BOSS HOG is another all together.

So to this day the ONLY person that gets away with calling me BOSS HOG is Micah. Even this summer when I went to visit kamp, the first words out of his mouth were BOSS HOG.
SAD. Funny, but SAD.