Shampoo Lake

The lake at Camp Forest Acres is in front of me, the silver bleachers off to the left. I'm eight years old, chubby in an orange two piece. The teenage girls cavorting in the water are not wearing bathing suits. They are not wearing anything at all. It's the first time I've seen pubic hair.

Harriett Gross, whose name is fitting, jumps up and down on the diving board. Her wet hair is in a bonnet of shampoo. She giggles as she launches, her giant buttocks quivering. SPLASH! Harriett emerges from the dark water seconds later, suddenly lovely.

Linda Levine is next. Linda's got it going on. Even at eight I recognize the power of a big personality in a curvy little body. Linda doesn't bounce on the diving board. She struts like it's a runway. With a "Whoop!" she cannonballs into the cold western Maine lake.

There are four more girls, maybe five. Each lathers her hair into a mountain of Prell, then bounces off the diving board. They do the same thing again and again. They are simply washing their hair in the lake. How does one wash one's hair? Naked of course! Tee hee! Maybe it's a camp tradition.

"Girls, you're gonna dry out your hair!" yells Scooter, the closeted lesbian swim counselor.

The girls laugh louder than I do. I laugh because happiness is contagious.

This memory came out of nowhere and splashed over me, icy cold and refreshing. It's been over 50 years.