The other day the kids got out the toilet paper and did what
was only natural – they strew it around the house. I conned John into wrapping
it back up. As he did so, the memory suddenly did a knee jerk back in time.
My step-mom did the best that she
could to raise us by setting good examples. She got upset when we did not do
the right thing like any trying parent would.
The summer of 1980 we went up to Bass Lake in California. My
cousin brought his friend, Dawn along. Dawn had her driver’s license. Like
typical teens, we took advantage of the opportunity by driving into “town” on
the opposite side of the lake. Lo and behold they were having a sale on PINK
toilet paper – 4 rolls for 79 cents. Of course, when one is camping in the wilderness,
one needs lots of PINK toilet
paper. We bought a whole lot of it, inconspicuously storing it in my uncle’s
yellow pickup truck. PINK toilet paper is hard to hide but we somehow
succeeded without any obvious suspicion.
As the
afternoon merged together with the evening we were getting antsy. Several
family members enjoyed activities in each other’s camps. Sing-along’s were
headed by my dad. He played his guitar and sang. Uncle Dean joined in with his
harmonicas. In another camp, family was eating Aunt Marge’s cakes and
gossiping. Her cakes were memorable because she used real cream frosting with a
center layer of real fruit. I can still taste them after 30 years. Few have
compared to hers since. Watermelon was the fruit of choice for others. My
brothers took pride in how far they could spit the seeds – about the only time
they could get away with spitting in public.
My cousin and his friend and I moved from one event to the
next just waiting for all to go to bed. In an effort to cover our plan, we went
to bed when everyone else did. Precariously we snuck out and had fun! My cousin’s
camp got the brunt of it. Oh…we wrapped it everywhere – including the food -even
wrapping ourselves in bed to avoid suspicion. My own family didn’t get as much –
mainly because we ran out of toilet paper.
Not long after we finished, a group of motorcycles rumbled past
our tents. One of the cousins swore they stopped to decorate our camp. She kept
saying she heard them outside her tent-wishful thinking on her part.
In the morning we again roamed from camp to camp; again,
trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Not easy! One aunt, I think it was
Olive gave me a direct look – eyes gleaming, “You kids did it.” Of course I
protested innocence. I was never a good liar. “Yes, you kids did it” she
charged with a confident smile.
Down at the other end of our row, my step mom was fuming.
Totally humiliated, she kept saying how she taught me better.
In her younger years she and her friends were notorious for
t.p.ing members of the Church, whether it was the bishop or the young, male
missionaries. They had to be out of their homes early in the morning. Mom and her
friends took great pleasure in decorating. To ensure a solid look, they would
carefully water down the paper. The missionaries, dressed in 3-piece suits were
required to keep their living environments spotless. Wet, soggy toilet paper
melts into the grass making it nearly impossible to remove it. This often
caused them to be late to their appointments.
So…I had a legacy to live up to. And I did not in her eyes.
Basically I got into trouble for not spreading the PINK
toilet paper around our camp better. However, one look at my aunt and uncle’s camp
said it all. After all this time the only thing that I feel true remorse for is
the mess that my aunt silently cleaned up in embarrassment.
Once again though, my sweet little ones began the tradition
by mixing toilet paper, water, and soap. At least this time it was in the sink.
Uncle Johnny helped them clean it up while I cleaned up another mess of theirs.
Kelli
L. McDonald
July
30, 2014
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