They Ruined My BeBops

 

They Ruined My BeBops

I have very fond memories of attending young women’s girls’ camp in my youth.  I loved being in the mountains and the fun activities and mostly sharing the week with the other girls.  But my girls’ camp experience got off to a rocky start.  It was a tradition in our ward that the first year girls were initiated.  I didn’t really know what that meant, but I knew it wasn’t good and I was scared.  The first activity for initiation was a “snipe hunt.”  They blindfolded us and led us up on the mountain and then took off the blindfolds and told us to find snipes.  It was all a big joke as there was no such thing as snipes.  I survived that okay. It was even kind of fun. But the second part of my initiation I did not survive too well.  In fact, I was so upset after this incident, that I did not go to camp my second year. 

One of our camp leaders was a young mother in our ward.  Her name was Hila Clapier.  She had one daughter and a slew of sons.  She was loud and happy and funny and not real ladylike.  She became my not best friend when she participated in the next part of my initiation.  She surprised me one afternoon by having older girls take my feet, she took my hands and they carried me down to the river and threw me in.  All the way down the mountain, I begged them to please let me take off my bebops. 

At that time, bebops, as we called them, were the most popular kind of shoes.  They were leather lace-ups, with two colors.  Some girls had black and white, but, as I remember it, the brown and beige ones were the most popular in our school.  Shortly before camp, I finally got a pair of bebops.  I was so thrilled with my new shoes.  I loved them.  I was not wise to take them to camp.  That was pretty dumb, in fact.  But I did.  And I had them on when Hila thought throwing me in the river was a fun idea. 

Hila was chortling the whole way down the mountain, as were the other girls.  They did not listen to my pleas and threw me right in with my bebops on.  I was completely soaked.  And it hurt as I landed.  I tried to be a good sport at the time and laugh it off.  But I was devastated.  I changed my clothes and tried to dry my beautiful, new shoes.  But they were ruined.

When I went home, I told my mom the story.  She also was very upset.  I can remember her being angry with Hila.  I don’t remember if I got new bebops or not, but I do remember that my mom supported me in my decision not to go back to girls camp the next year.  The young women leaders encouraged me to give it another try in my third year, so I reluctantly did.  I was so glad I did.  I really had a great time.  Ever after, I was always a year behind the girls my age as I progressed through the years.  But that was okay as I made a really good friend my fourth year when we were stake leaders with a girl who was a year younger than me.  Her name was Pam Jensen and we became really close friends.  She lived on a farm in Middleton, Idaho, but my mom was willing to drive out and pick her up so she could come over at times. I remember one time in particular that she came over for a family barbecue. I would probably not have made friends with her if I had stayed with my age group.  It all worked out fine, and, like I said, I learned to enjoy girls camp in spite of the bebop incident.