One of my fondest memories from childhood involves watching mom pack my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches into a brown paper bag. After the lunch was taken care of I would grimace as she lathered me up with sunscreen and placed a silly hat on my head to wear during the day. We would hop into the blue van and I was giddy with anticipation as I was transported to DAY CAMP! It was a glorious thing every summer when my mom would announce that me and my brother and sister had been signed up for YMCA day camp.
There was freedom in those hot summer days where I discovered how to prepare bait for fishing in the Wildcat River. I remember how my arm would shake furiously as I would try to hit the bulls eye with my bow and arrow. I imagined myself sailing the high seas as I was the commander of my little canoe where I would bark orders with my oars at hand. It was during day camp that I realized that I was allergic to horses. After my very first encounter with horseback riding I was sent to the clinic because my eyes swelled shut and my body was covered with welts. It was at day camp where I was able to foster independence as I had to make friends on my own , I developed my social skills by overcoming my shyness and talking to cute boys and I was able to gain my very first Indian Name!
During day camp we were assigned to tribes and all the tribes had camp counselors. We would play games with each other, learn new skills, eat lunch with our new BFF´s and then we would gather by the campfire to inherit our Indian name. It was a big deal, almost like a rite of passage and it only happened on the very first day of camp. I felt my knees knocking as the camp counselor called the kids one by one to the front of the fiery pit. One of the blonde hair boys was called BEACH BLONDIE. Not very creative, but it fit him since he actually lived on the beaches of California and only visited Indiana during the summer (seems a bit backwards to me now, but at the time I was not one to judge). Another girl inherited the Indian name FRECKLED DULCE. Her entire body was covered in freckles, and she was from Mexico so Spanish was her native tongue and she knew that the word DULCE meant "sweet". Next it was my turn. I could hear my heart about to pound out of my chest. What was my name going to be? How was this going to shape my identity? The counselor called me toward the front, I wobbled to the center stage and he said, "From now you you will be called Sweet Thunder! Misty, the reason why I chose this name for you is that it is evident that you have a big heart for others. You are sweet, but at the same time, you are one of the loudest campers I have - sometimes when you talk it is as loud as thunder!" Everyone in the group cheered for my new name. I walked back to the outside circle elated and realized that name given to me on that day would follow me for the rest of my life.
I love my Indian name - I embrace my Indian name - Sweet Thunder is here to stay!
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