From left to right: Danny Trevor, Ben Trevor, me (Jim Gibbons), half of Quint Owen's head and Sam Hulka. I have no idea who took this photo. Possibly a sasquatch, but more than likely a camper.

Taken down at the archery range on a sunny afternoon during my last year at camp (2001), I’m a second year JC (junior counselor) in this photo and instructing/supervising these fine young lads in their arrow-flinging endeavors. Obviously, I was sporting a soul patch and a “Hi, my name is Slim Shady” t-shirt because I was a super cool 16-year-old. ‘Nuff said, right?!

I’ll wager a guess that before, during and after this picture was taken, I was lamenting the fact that I had become an American Archer when I was a camper. Quick explanation: An American Archer is someone who has achieved every target shooting award at the 15, 25, 30, 40 and 50-yard lines with a bow and arrow under the Camp Archery Association’s achievement program. There were usually only one or two handfuls of American Archers at camp each summer making the bragging rights it entailed a cool perk as a camper (Note: They are also kind of cool as a 25-year-old.), but as one of only three staffers with the distinction in 2001 it was a different story. The other two American Archers on staff were Waterfront Director Brent Parker and Head Archery Instructor David Owen, a fellow JC one or two ears older than me. Brent, busy with all things waterfront-related, would have been a rare staffer to see instructing archery that year, which made me (more or less by default) Assistant Head Archery Instructor—or something like that. What that meant was David normally got the morning shift down at the range (Which was preferable because it was usually cooler and your morning was usually more relaxed—a definite perk for anyone among the sleep-deprived staff.), I ended up down there in the sweltering hot afternoons… when I would have rather been down on the waterfront… by the cool, cool water… doing anything, anything other than archery.

That said, with the rose-colored glasses of hindsight, I realize that I ended up spending most of my afternoons on staff leading a bunch of kids as we all fired dangerous projectiles at bails of hay (or sometimes an old t-shirt) for a few hours. Not too shabby.

This photo also exemplifies a lot of camp experiences. It’s a bunch of dudes, surrounded by trees, doing something potentially dangerous. Good times, indeed.

I love how maniacal Sam looks in this photo. Little would the casual viewer suspect that the half-headed Quint was the real threat here. After the photo was taken, he jabbed two or three arrows into my side, filing them in between the gaps of my rib cage like some sort of pointed and deadly piece of paperwork, before fleeing into the nearby swamp… never to be seen or heard from again.

I’m kidding, of course! In my two years instructing archery, no one was shot, stabbed or lost in the swamp. A few arrows, however, did find their way into that quagmire at my discretion…

I didn’t say being an Archery Instructor was completely without its upsides!Similar Posts:

• Regarding archery in comics and a long, long absence…
• Some song sheets: Johnny Verbeck, Frozen North and more!
• Second generation Shewahmegonites

Hey folks, sorry I’ve been so bad at updating over the past couple of weeks, but if you’ve been paying attention to my other blog (Enemy of Peanuts at www.EnemyOfPeanuts.com) then you’ll notice I have at least been busy. Still, I’ve got a few reminiscences that need telling over here on NMA and I plan on getting to those very, very soon—especially now that EoP is up and running on a regular schedule.

Just as a note, Nothing More American is going to be moving to an “at least once a week” posting schedule. Since my posts here are chronicling some of the greatest times in my life, I end up agonizing over them probably too much. Still, for that reason, daily ramblings and posts about any number of other subjects will be gushing forth at Enemy Of Peanuts many times a week, and updates here will be less frequent but hopefully more enjoyable for their relative rarity. The short version: Be patient with me here, I want to do right by my memories.

Also, I made a post yesterday on Enemy Of Peanuts that could not have happened without my years of archery experience at camp. The gist of it is that after my own days as a camper learning to shoot archery which led to me being one of the head archery instructors during my time on staff at Camp Shewahmegon has given me an eye for numerous comic book moments where artists and editors have overlooked how heroes like Hawkeye and Green Arrow should be holding their bows and nocking their arrows. If you ever drew back a bowstring at summer camp, you can appreciate this post, so head over and check out “Far from a bullseye” on EoP.

Overlooked by many, all those afternoons on the archery range led me to notice quite a few errors with this comic cover.

I’ll wrap up this very managerial post with a little camp-related anecdote… My coffee maker broke recently, and while I haven’t had time or an access of funds to go out and pick up a new one, I turned again to an item I bought long ago before a camping trip: a campfire percolator.

"Roughing it" in my kitchen

So, each morning atop my stove, I load this baby up with some ground coffee and get in percolating. It’s not that odd, but something I doubt would be the case without my camp experience as I (a) wouldn’t have one of these if I didn’t camp and (b) because that sort of “what do I have that can fix this” resourcefulness is a quality I’d credit to my camp years—and one I’ve never really thought about but am now realizing I am very thankful for!Similar Posts:

• A bunch of dudes in the woods
• Random Recollections—Orange Cappuccino
• All Day Hikes