SHORT:
One time my teammate Korby couldn’t attend our swimming and diving training trip, so we drew her face on a potato and took the potato to Florida. We threw it across the pool to simulate her swimming really fast. Then she sunk to the bottom.
For some god-forsaken reason we brought the wet potato back to Providence. This resulted in it sprouting all sorts of weird roots and mold. Korby is not covered in weird roots or mold in real life. She works at Citibank and is really successful.
MEDIUM:
I attended an all-girls high school in California. During my senior year, a tall man entered a padded room and taught me how to fight.
“When a man attacks you, you have options.”
“Hammer strike. Elbow jab.”
“Get loud and push back.”
“Eyes, nose, neck, knee… maximize damage.”
I was never a girl and don’t know what to do with the things I was taught in that padded room.
I am constantly attacked by my own masculinity. I elbow jab myself in the face a lot. I’m loud and then cower.
I don’t know when to fight back and when to let things in.
LONG:
In third grade, my Jewish Day School decided to have us go on a camping trip (setup of the century). Jews of all ages drove to the Palo Alto woods (read: hills) to experience this incredible night of bonding (read: horrible idea, chaotic, very bad, was cancelled the year after).
For many Jews, this was the most nature they’d seen since attending the Passover play (The Burning Bush was played by a person covered in leaves and sticks). My mom arrived with us, ate the s’mores, and then drove home before the sleeping-in-a-tent part began. My dad and sister slept in a small tent together. But I, I got to sleep in the COHEN’s tent. The CADILLAC of tents. A tent that you could STAND UP IN. I got to sleep with my best buds Emily and Eliza and Eliza’s parents.
We smushed into the massive fabric structure. For some reason my friend Eliza’s dad had brought his briefcase. Her mom was like “why did you bring your briefcase to the woods a.k.a the hills above Palo Alto.” I don’t remember his response.
As we settled into our sleeping bags, Eliza’s mom checked in with all of us to make sure that we were “doing ok”. I was like “ya I’m good” and fell asleep moments after.
Then. In the middle of the night. CHAOS.
A loud growling noise echoed through the air. Eliza’s parents sprung up and whisper-screamed what the hell was that! Emily, Eliza, and I cowered in the corner of the Cadillac (tent). The noise happened again. It’s a bear. It’s definitely a bear. I burrowed into my blankets.
Eliza’s mom decided that, should the bear enter the tent, she would throw herself over us so that “the bear would have to gnaw through her.” Eliza’s dad was instructed to leave the tent and “beat the bear over the head with his briefcase.”
On the count of three, Eliza’s mom lunged over us. Eliza’s dad unzipped the tent and swung his briefcase out in front of him.
The noise continued. Eliza’s dad returned. He couldn’t find the bear.
I fell asleep and hoped my little third grade body would rise in the morning.
I did. We all did.
At the morning campfire (where we had s’mores round two, my mom missed out), we were like, “so did anyone else hear the bear last night?”
All the Jews were like THERE WAS A BEAR?
My friend Nick was like, “was the noise coming from the Southeastern side of the camp?”
After 10 mins of figuring out what Southeast was, the Cohen’s were like, “yeah”.
Nick laughed and explained that the noise we heard was definitely just his dad’s violent snoring.
We laugh laugh laughed like the night before didn’t take years off of our lives.
EXTRA:
Want more camping material? I made a short film called Can’t Touch This that takes place in a tent. Message me for link and password if you want to watch.
Did you enjoy this? Did you hate this? Could you tell I was inebriated while writing this (sorry)? Respond with thoughts and suggestions for future newsletters! Thanks to my girlfriend for editing because I am drunk.
-Meg
Social- @megspope@mpopetweets
Venmo- @mpope-venmo-26
Website- meganpopework.com
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