The password for today is all that junk inside yo trunk.
Before my first summer at camp, my Mom took me trunk shopping. After unsuccessful trips to Target and Bed, Bath, and Beyond, I sat, desperate, in my room surrounded by all the clothes I planned to being to camp. Thankfully, my Mom walked in with an old trunk in hand. It was small, navy blue, and had scratched metal buckles that looked like they had been constantly slammed shut many years ago. The top of the trunk had a pink felt cutout in the shape of a baby’s foot and every inch of the inside was covered in newspaper. Simply, it was a really weird trunk.
Eleven years, I still bring my Mom’s trunk to camp. Even though it is about half the size of everyone else’s, I never get tired of sitting inside of it. It’s too old and weak for me to sit on top of . . . or maybe I’m just a little nervous to do since because of all the delicious cake yesterday. My trunk doesn’t close most of the time and frequently has clothes spilling out of its sides. When I was a Junior, my friends and I would say that my trunk was burping when this would happen.
Over the years, there have been some small personalizations. Every summer, I tape my Opening Day nametag to the top. On the inside, over the newspaper, I have taped pictures of my family, despite the fact that many of the people in the pictures are at camp with me. Although there have been times where I’ve contemplated investing in a new, bigger trunk, I love the consistency that this one had brought to my time at camp.
For me, my trunk does more than hold clothes. It’s a chair, an art piece, a burping mess, and a constant companion that always comes to camp with me. I encourage all of you to find a small consistency to have at camp with you, whether it’s a journal, friendship bracelet, or adding your 1st, 7th or 11th nametag to the top of your trunk.
-Lady Katie O’Malley