Pawtuckaway State Park

When I was young our family would take summer trips to various parts of the country. We'd pack up the camping gear (Dad probably did most of that work!), cram into the car and off we went. My Dad's job was such that he needed to visit several State offices of the American Heart Association to train the staff on accounting policies and procedures. He took that opportunity to bring the family along during the summer months so we could camp and enjoy the summer visiting a host of state parks throughout the eastern United States.

One summer, when I was around 12 or 13, we found a new park that was not too far from home. It was newly opened and provided all of us with plenty to do. I remember this park specifically because of two significant events that occured there. The first was getting to know some of the other campers, especially this cute girl. Ah! The first girl in my life and to me, she was pretty. I specifically remember a time where we kissed on the beach while under a beach towel. (Wouldn't want anyone to see us kissing!) I do remember that she was from Sommerville, MA, we from Tewksbury. I had no idea where Sommerville was. Could have been on the other side of the world as far as I was concerned. I just knew it wasn't Tewksbury so for me she lived far away. We spent most of the time at this park together with her friends and other kids our age. We would hang out on one of the bridges crossing a creek between two areas of the park. As is likely to occur when an immature boy is smitten by a lovely girl, he feels the need to impress her. Seems that the thing to do then was to remove the nuts and the bolts that where used in the guard rails and toss them into the creek. It was risky but it impressed the girls! And I wasn't the only boy doing it but clearly we were not thinking of safety, the danger created by weakening the railing, etc. We had more important things on our minds.

"Stephen!" I remember my Mom's voice calling me from my basement bedroom shortly after returning home from our vacation. "Stephen" she called again! (Hey, a kid never responds on the first call.) I indicated that I heard her and came to the foot of the steps leading up to the 1st floor of our home. There she stood looking down at me and asked me if I had removed some bolts from a guard rail at the park. I sheepishly admitted that I had. It seems when the parks rangers discovered the issue they began to ask the campers questions. They talked to the girl and others who identified me by name. They, in turn, contacted my mother. Ugh! How embarassing. She'd never understand I was just trying to impress a girl! "Well," she said, "They want us to pay them for the repairs and to never go back to that park again! It makes me so mad because we really liked that park and it was close to home!" As if that wasn't enough to make me feel terrible, she said the most dreaded thing she could say, "Wait 'til your father comes home."

Oh, man. "Wait 'til my father comes home" meant a disciplinary act that would be sufficient to make me regret ever doing it and would instill the necessary conversion of will to never do something like that again! As I returned to my bedroom to begin the long, excrutiating wait period before the arrival of Dad at my bedroom door, I couldn't help but have mixed feelings. Heck, she turned me in! I thought she liked me! Well, if that was the case then she must have been uncomfortable giving the rangers my name and she too must have been embarassed along with her family. And my Mom really did like that park. She mentioned it several times throughout our stay. And there goes the money I'd be earning delivering papers for the next few weeks to repay the park. Man, this growing up stuff was going to be difficult!