The camp director marched out to the playground yelling my name. Huffing and mumbling under her breath, she grabbed me by the arm and dragged me inside the lunch room. Lunch had long been over and all of the tables were empty. Except, there was one person still there staring at the lunch tray in front of her.
Wearing the light blue, rainbow adorned camp shirt and a clenched jaw, I instantly recognized my sister as the single person in the entire room. She was the, “only camper in the 23 years of the camp,” that refused to eat the green beans. The soggy, canned green beans were the ticket to recess. And knowing this, most of us ate them first—before our taste buds knew what was going on. My sister was the exception—she was defiant.
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“Tell her. Tell her to eat the green beans or I am calling your parents!” Seeing the determination in my sister’s eyes I knew no matter what I said she was never going to do it. Thirty minutes later my father showed up to find my brother and I sitting on either side of her with the plate of untouched green beans. We were asked not to return.
Unable to return to camp, it was arranged that we would spend the remainder of the summer alternating weeks between my grandparents’ homes. That is how I ended up spending every summer during my tween years building strong bonds with my grandparents, learning important life lessons and immersed in my family’s cultural roots. My greatest memories come from this time.
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