Memories of the May 2003 Squamish Huntington�s Camp By John Penner ... continued from Page 2. However, they were not quite as memorable and special as the bedtime stories in K & S�s room, or the last night tuck-in by the three Florence Nightingales. Not too often was John ever at a loss for words, but as he saw the Seven Spanish Angels come and tuck him home that night he still wonders what really happened. They also played softball, and you can tell Sammy Sousa that we did not even use one ounce of cork in our plastic bats; a few of them still hit home runs. It was a lot of fun, and dangerous too, as John kept trying to run into the girls. Some things never change. The camp grounds were inundated with all colors of floppy-eared rabbits. They were always hiding in the flower beds, sitting under the benches, or even running under our feet�and every morning there were more chocolate raisins. Sure looked cute. There were some local First Nations, Dale and his family, who told of the tale of how the turtle cracked its shell. They told them the folklore stories of the local people. They all sat around the circle and talked till it was too cold. The hot chocolate sure warmed the soul afterward. Thanks, Geri. John had worked too hard on the trampoline on Thursday, and just before supper he was lying on the concrete patio deck enjoying a brief moment of sun in his face� and had a loud snoring sleep. He was �burned� twice, once by the sun, which was a red face. The other face was blue. Continue reading here: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

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