LJ Idol 9.19: Kindling...
A photo surfaced on my desk, recently, of me at a camp one summer over half a century ago. The black-and-white image brought back pleasant memories, and I paused in the course of my day to let them have free rein for a little while.
I learned to do so many new things that summer! I learned to swim, albeit barely, and how to shoot an arrow from a bow and consistently hit the target. I learned to cook an egg in a skillet over a campfire, as well as how to select and arrange the wood and the kindling so as to reliably get that fire going without worrying about the wind or a few drops of rain. I sang new songs, I learned to play croquet, and I made a small bookshelf out of wood.
I recalled the excitement I felt playing a camp-wide game called, if memory serves, "capture the messenger," and I was suddenly struck by how the significance of one aspect of that game had eluded me until now, when the photo reappeared.
You see, in that game, campers were divided into two teams, the camp itself was divided into two team territories, and counselors were assigned the role of umpires. The point of the game was for each side's "offense" to deliver messages, written on slips of paper carried by some (but not all) team members, to a point situated deep within "enemy" territory. Defenders were tasked with "capturing," using the "two-hand touch" technique, members of the opposing team who had invaded their territory, whereupon "prisoners" were searched (under the watchful eyes of an umpire) and any found message was confiscated. At the conclusion of the game, delivered and confiscated messages were tallied using some arcane formula and the wining side was announced.
What I remember is being assigned the role of a "decoy," meaning I was supposed to try to get to my team's goal even though I carried no message. The idea that my purpose was to deliberately get captured to make the other side waste time searching me (thereby possibly allowing a real message-carrier to reach the goal) never dented my skull, nor do I remember my role being explained to me that way.
I recall only two things about that game. First, I never crossed the dividing line into "enemy" territory because-as best as I can reconstruct my thought processes at the time-I wanted to make the other side think I was carrying a message that I didn't want them to find if they captured me. Second, at one point, a fellow teammate-an older camper who was also a "decoy"-casually strolled across the dividing line with arms raised, making no attempt to evade "capture," and was immediately subjected to a search.
* * *
A few years later, after a series of humiliating defeats at chess at a different summer camp, I set about improving my chess skills during the course of the following school year. My "teacher" in this undertaking was a paperback book written by one Fred Reinfeld, whose introductory books on chess are still read today. I forget the book's title, but it seemed like just what the doctor ordered, roughly along the lines of How to Play Brilliant, Winning Chess.
I blew through that book like a hurricane through a dilapidated straw hut. Then I went back and read the book again. This time however, I could look at the printed position diagrams and move the pieces around in my head without having to set up pieces on a board. I kept going back to that book, from time to time, until the end of the school year, whereupon I returned to camp and took my revenge (but that's a different story).
The move sequences Reinfeld was illustrating were pretty direct, and weren't long or complicated. They stressed two major things. First, moves often had to occur in a certain order to mate the opponent's King (a concept that, serendipitously, helped me with algebra that spring). Second, the point of the game was exactly that-to mate the opponent's King-as opposed to merely avoiding the loss of one's own pieces, which would eventually result in a lost game. What this meant in practical terms was that, for example, giving up a Queen for a pawn is absolutely the right thing to do if you win the game as a result.(Not only that, but it's something you can brag about to all your chess-playing friends if you manage to pull it off, but I digress...)
* * *
So now, looking at the photo in my hand and knowing the importance of keeping one's eye on the goal, my mind goes back and I vividly picture that older camper as he was being "captured." I recall the smile on his face and light-heartedness in his voice as he teased his captors, saying "You'll never find any message on me...or maybe you will!" And I cannot help but wonder: Was he trying to set an example for me and some of the other younger campers around me? Was he trying to show us how the game was supposed to be played?
If that was his point, it eluded me at the time. But whether he was trying to enlighten us or not, it was a lesson I eventually learned.
I learned to do so many new things that summer! I learned to swim, albeit barely, and how to shoot an arrow from a bow and consistently hit the target. I learned to cook an egg in a skillet over a campfire, as well as how to select and arrange the wood and the kindling so as to reliably get that fire going without worrying about the wind or a few drops of rain. I sang new songs, I learned to play croquet, and I made a small bookshelf out of wood.
I recalled the excitement I felt playing a camp-wide game called, if memory serves, "capture the messenger," and I was suddenly struck by how the significance of one aspect of that game had eluded me until now, when the photo reappeared.
You see, in that game, campers were divided into two teams, the camp itself was divided into two team territories, and counselors were assigned the role of umpires. The point of the game was for each side's "offense" to deliver messages, written on slips of paper carried by some (but not all) team members, to a point situated deep within "enemy" territory. Defenders were tasked with "capturing," using the "two-hand touch" technique, members of the opposing team who had invaded their territory, whereupon "prisoners" were searched (under the watchful eyes of an umpire) and any found message was confiscated. At the conclusion of the game, delivered and confiscated messages were tallied using some arcane formula and the wining side was announced.
What I remember is being assigned the role of a "decoy," meaning I was supposed to try to get to my team's goal even though I carried no message. The idea that my purpose was to deliberately get captured to make the other side waste time searching me (thereby possibly allowing a real message-carrier to reach the goal) never dented my skull, nor do I remember my role being explained to me that way.
I recall only two things about that game. First, I never crossed the dividing line into "enemy" territory because-as best as I can reconstruct my thought processes at the time-I wanted to make the other side think I was carrying a message that I didn't want them to find if they captured me. Second, at one point, a fellow teammate-an older camper who was also a "decoy"-casually strolled across the dividing line with arms raised, making no attempt to evade "capture," and was immediately subjected to a search.
* * *
A few years later, after a series of humiliating defeats at chess at a different summer camp, I set about improving my chess skills during the course of the following school year. My "teacher" in this undertaking was a paperback book written by one Fred Reinfeld, whose introductory books on chess are still read today. I forget the book's title, but it seemed like just what the doctor ordered, roughly along the lines of How to Play Brilliant, Winning Chess.
I blew through that book like a hurricane through a dilapidated straw hut. Then I went back and read the book again. This time however, I could look at the printed position diagrams and move the pieces around in my head without having to set up pieces on a board. I kept going back to that book, from time to time, until the end of the school year, whereupon I returned to camp and took my revenge (but that's a different story).
The move sequences Reinfeld was illustrating were pretty direct, and weren't long or complicated. They stressed two major things. First, moves often had to occur in a certain order to mate the opponent's King (a concept that, serendipitously, helped me with algebra that spring). Second, the point of the game was exactly that-to mate the opponent's King-as opposed to merely avoiding the loss of one's own pieces, which would eventually result in a lost game. What this meant in practical terms was that, for example, giving up a Queen for a pawn is absolutely the right thing to do if you win the game as a result.(Not only that, but it's something you can brag about to all your chess-playing friends if you manage to pull it off, but I digress...)
* * *
So now, looking at the photo in my hand and knowing the importance of keeping one's eye on the goal, my mind goes back and I vividly picture that older camper as he was being "captured." I recall the smile on his face and light-heartedness in his voice as he teased his captors, saying "You'll never find any message on me...or maybe you will!" And I cannot help but wonder: Was he trying to set an example for me and some of the other younger campers around me? Was he trying to show us how the game was supposed to be played?
If that was his point, it eluded me at the time. But whether he was trying to enlighten us or not, it was a lesson I eventually learned.