Every year about this time, Mom and Dad would load up Ben and me and drive us to Hamilton, Alabama so that we could attend Maywood Christian Camp. It was one of the best parts of every summer from the time that I was ten until I was 16.
A close friend who went to church with us told us about Camp Maywood. Her husband was originally from Hamilton, which was about 45 minutes south of where my dad’s parents lived. So it was a good match. We would spend a week at camp, and Gramma and Papa M would come and pick us up to spend a week with them.
Ben and I would have so much fun that we would later, at home, stay up late into the night talking and laughing about camp stories.
I think Ben actually had better stories, and he probably had a better time. By the end of the week, I was exhausted from the heat and all of the girl drama. The boys, on the other hand, did crazy stuff like rat-tail fights, cabin raids (which really weren’t allowed and resulted in swim suspension!), and rafter-climbing.
In spite of the heat, humidity, and drama, I really did love it and went back every year!