Campmeeting memories - by Shelley Hopkins

                                    Camp meeting memories.

This morning I started the day drinking coffee on my back patio, sitting under a 50 year old tree and listening to the morning sounds, the cicadas and tree frogs.  Instantly the sounds and feels transported me back to mornings at camp meeting.  As an adult I would get up early, sit on the porch with my coffee and watch the day wake up.  The sounds, the cool air under large trees, and the neighbors in their tents waking up and preparing for the day, it is as familiar as my life is today.  As a child I started the day on the porch, but quickly moved to my bike, or to the swing, or playing with barbie dolls on the picnic table.  I was a bit of a stranger at camp meeting, my aunt and uncle had a tent and I spent every summer meeting there, but I didn’t know well the other kids.  Frankie and Collins invited me and my cousins, and we had wonderful times racing around outdoors, or playing on the squishy beds in the tent.  Frankie never enforced the rules with me, you might say she spoiled me a little, but there was nothing like the feeling of love and belonging she cultivated.  As I said, rules weren’t enforced, so my strongest memory is of sitting on the bed playing barbies with a cousin or two during the church services.  Frankie would sit on the porch, and Collins would be singing in the choir.  Windows and doors were always open, and while playing, we could hear the singing.  Once the choir was done the preacher would start, and we could usually hear him until the sun went down and his voice was drowned in cicada song.  We kids would become involved in our play and start speaking and laughing a little louder, and Frankie, in a not so quiet voice, would whisper yell, “Shush. Quiet.”  We would giggle, and try to keep the noise down.  After a moment I would step outside, letting the door slam.  “Shush, church is still going on.”  Frankie would loudly whisper.  Our neighbors told me later they could easily hear her, she might have been louder than we kids were.  It was all very funny.

Our daytime was spent outside, running from one end of the large shaded campus to the other, looking for kids to play with, or swings to try out, or running to the stand to buy candy.  My favorite candy choice was the long stick of pixie dust. Camp meeting had 4 swings at the 4 corners, but the swing in front of our tent was the highest and most popular.  It was just a single board with a hole drilled through it and a thick rope knotted under the swing. The other end of the rope was wrapped around a high tree branch.  The brave person sat on the board, and held on tightly to the rope. A friend or an adult would grab the rope hanging from under the seat, and pull the swing up high, maybe even over his head, then jerk and let go.  The swing would fly up into the air.  A second person would jump, grab the rope and repeat.  The rider went higher and higher, shrieking and laughing.  When they had had enough, the rider would wrap his or her legs around that bottom rope so no one could get it, and the swing would slow down.  Sometimes the rider was treated to a special stop ,a super stop we called it, when the friend would grab the rope above the riders head and swirl the swing and person around and around until the momentum was gone. If that didn’t make them sick, that person would jump back in line for another turn.  That swing was the highlight of every day, and the scariest part of the day as well.

Another wonderful memory for me took place at night.  Once again I think we were supposed to be in our tents after a certain time, but Frankie let me stay out.  I would lay down on the concrete picnic tables and stare up into the sky.  The tables are gone, and the darkness of that night sky is going away as well.  Then, in the 70’s, I could see so many stars while laying on that table, that at times I would feel dizzy.  The air was cooler, the camp was quiet, and the stars were crowded across the sky.  I never wanted to go back inside.

Camp meeting is about church, and growing spiritually.  I attended church services some as I got older.  I loved the idea of “going to church” but still being able to hear the insects and watch the lightning bugs.  The sounds of the choir and the congregation singing mixed with the night sounds.  When the services were over we kids would run away from the arbor and race to the stand for our nighttime treats of candy or ice cream.

When I was a kid the folks at camp meeting held water balloon fights in front of the tents, between them and even a few people would launch water balloons from above, standing on the rooftops.  After a few years of this the water balloon fight was moved outside of the circle.  Now only those that wanted to participate get wet.  

When my kids came along I brought them to camp meeting as well. They enjoyed all the same things I did.  They loved having water balloon fights down at the water pump, jumping on the beds in the tents, listening to the songs from the arbor church meeting and of course, candy from the stand.  I think one of the special parts of spending a week at camp meeting is the freedom the kids have.  They can run out of their tent in the morning, and play and explore all day, wandering back home as they get hungry.  The tents are built in a circle, and everyone sits outside so the kids are under many watchful eyes, but the feeling of freedom is strong.  With no air conditioning, everyone sat outside ready to visit, watching as different family groups and friends wander by, and sharing meals and sweet tea.  I hope those things are still the same, as the tents become modernized.  I realize how lucky I and my kids were to have these camp meeting experiences, and I am very thankful for my aunt and uncle and all they did to make our family a part of this magical time.  Thank you Frankie and Collins Thompson and tent 49!