When I was a kid I used to go to church, man did I go to church. I think that by the time I was ten years old I had already filled my church quota for my lifetime. My grandfather was a Baptist Preacher so whenever I went his house or the house of any of father’s family I’d go and hear the fire and brimstone sermons of how God is a vengeful god who will send you to Hell for even one unclean thought and as a kid I had so many unclean thoughts that I was sure the devil was going to show up any second to claim my soul. On my mom’s side of the family, it was a little different. Her family was split on religion. Some of her brothers and sisters were strict Catholics while the others were Methodist. Now, to be honest, I really don’t know what the difference is except that when we moved next to a Morrom church and I decided that I was going to check it out I had everyone telling me that I was joining a cult and that I was going to go straight to Hell for even thinking of stepping foot inside of a Mormon church.

This story is when I was going to the Methodist church because my aunt felt so strongly about the church that she had me and all my cousins involved in the church youth group activities. I think that the reason she was involved in the church was because she had a crush on the pastor and by taking a load of kids with her to Sunday mass and to all the activities then she was guaranteed a place in the pastor’s heart. The funny thing is that in a way it worked. Well, I was the youngest in our group of kids which meant that I really wasn’t a youth at all but a kid who the youth tolerated. I was like everyone’s kid brother who was there pestering everyone but you couldn’t get rid of because then your mom wouldn’t allow your friends to come over.

All year long I participated in all sorts of things from bake sales, to car washes so I could help raise money for the annual church youth group camp. I remember that year I washed so many cars in the hot Texas sun that to this day I hate washing cars so my car will stay dirty until it goes from light blue to a brownish gray color or until it rains - whichever comes first.

That first year I went to camp I was all excited because I had never been away from home before and more importantly I had never been camping before in my life, so I was excited and a little nervous about it. I remember my mom sent me with a brand new pillow and not my old ratty pillow that I’d been sleeping on since…well…as long as I can remember.

“Look at my new pillow” I said showing my pillow to my older cousin who was riding in the van with me.

“if you’re going to hang out with me this week, you can’t act like a little kid” my older thirteen year old cousin. He was still not happy that the preacher had made an exception and let me go to camp even though I was two years too young. The reason he had let me is because my aunt was going too and he figured she could keep an eye out on me.

“I am a little kid, how can I not act like one.”

“I’m just saying” my cousin threatened, “if you mess with me I’m going to leave you out there for the bears to eat.”

“There aren’t any bears out there” I said, but then I looked out the windows of the van. I could see tree after tree moving along at a scary speed as we drove on the little road to our camping destination. “There aren’t bears out here…are there?”

My cousin didn’t say anything he just looked at me and smiled.

It was dark as we made our way into camp. One of the older kids took us to our cabin. As he flipped the lights on I could see big roaches and other bugs run all over the place trying to get back into the darkness. I looked at my older cousin but he didn’t say anything it was if he thought giant bugs running around your room was a normal thing. We were staying in medium size cabins that had four bunk beds in each one. Of course my cousin claimed the top bunk, so I got the bottom one, but for some reason I was ok with that. I didn’t want to fight with my cousin and end up as a midnight snack for some bear waiting outside our door for the first kid to get pushed out the cabin for fighting with his cousin.

“Ok, guys get into your beds and try to get some sleep because we have a long day tomorrow.” the older kid said, I don’t remember but I think his name may have been Manny or something like that.

“Aren’t you going to sleep here?” I asked feeling that having an older kid even if his name was Manny around would be good just in case some ax wielding maniac was on the lose. Manny could fight him while we all escaped out the windows. That’s when I noticed that they’re weren’t any windows in the cabin except at the very end of the room and if some crazy ax wielding maniac came in he would get me before I even made it to the window. “Don’t you want to stay with us?” I didn’t want to sound like a little scared eleven year old, but I was and I couldn’t help it.

“No, I’m staying in the counselors cabin” Manny said as he made sure everyone was in their bunks. “We’ve some activities to plan for you guys, so get some sleep and do not leave this cabin for any reason.”

“What if it starts on fire?” I asked.

Manny looked at me with a “why did we bring the eleven year old to camp” look. “It’s not going to start on fire.”

“What if a bear comes through the window?” my mind was racing with possibilities.

“There aren’t any bears in this part of the woods” Manny’s words reassured me.

I punched the bottom of my cousin’s bunk, “see I told you, there aren’t any bears around here.” I said, as dust rained down on me. Don’t they even clean these things I thought. My cousin didn’t say anything.

“Ok, if that’s all then lets get some sleep.” Manny said reaching for the light switch.

“How do you know that the cabin is not going to start on fire?”

Manny didn’t answer my question, all he said was “goodnight” and he turned the light off and it was dark. It was very dark. I once heard my uncle say that when he was in the war it was so dark that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. I lifted my hand and moved it around in front of my face, but it was too dark. I couldn’t see it at all. Part of me thought it was cool and part of me thought it was a little scary. I closed my eyes but nothing changed - it was still dark. I was tired but it was too dark to sleep.

“Hey Patoon” My cousin’s nickname was “Patoon” because when he was little he used to be a big fat baby. There are pictures to prove it, at one year he probably weighed as much as a three year old. My uncle said he was so big that he was like a military Platoon so people started calling him “Platoon” but as time went on his name sort of became “Patoon”

“Shut up Pee-wee and go to sleep” The same uncle who said my cousin was as big as a platoon had looked at me when we moved to the states from Germany and announced to everyone that I was so small I belonged in the Peewee League and from that day on I was known as “Pee-wee” Even now, when I go back home to Texas there are few people that call me by my name; almost everyone back home calls me “Pee-wee” Some of my good friends here know me by that name too. It’s a name that has survived all these years and has gone unchanged even though I’ve grown to a towering five feet eleven or 180 cm.

“I’m scared.” I admitted to my cousin. “I want to go home.”

“Shut-up you baby” the voice came from the darkness and it wasn’t my cousin’s. I had forgotten that there were other kids in the cabin with us and they weren’t too happy with sharing their cabin with a little eleven year old who was scared of the dark. Soon the cabin was filled with the voices of the other kids calling me names and threatening to throw me out into the woods. I was eleven years old and still a little kid, but at that moment I decided that eleven years old was old enough to almost be considered a man - I decided that I was a man and men didn’t cry not even when they were in a cabin out in the woods with a ax wielding maniac who could at that very moment be under his bed. A weird thing started to happen to me at that moment, I was an eleven year old man, but even so I started crying, which just made the other kids call me more names and laugh harder at me. I was still a kid and still acted like one. All of a sudden there was voice that rose louder than all the rest.

“Leave him alone!” Everyone was stunned and didn’t say a word, even I was stunned by the sound of my cousin’s voice in the dark. “he’s just a kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” I whimpered. “I’m a man.”

“Shut up Peewee” my cousin said as he jumped off the top bunk bed. “He’s still a kid and this is his first time away from home so just leave him alone.” My cousin yelled into the darkness of the cabin,” If you want to mess with anyone then you can just mess with me.” Nobody said anything. I guess no one wants to mess with a Platoon. My cousin sat on the edge of my bed and put his hand on my chest and leaned down toward me and said, ”Now, go to sleep. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

I closed my eyes and slept. The next day no one mentioned that I had cried or that my cousin had stood up for me, challenging the entire cabin, it was as if nothing had happened. Every night for the rest of the week my cousin sat on the edge of my bed until I fell asleep, watching over me.

No one ever knew that I cried my first night at camp or that my cousin had sat with me every night until I feel asleep. No one knew until now…as the years passed I almost lost this story to the forgetfulness that times brings with it. I’m posting it here so you can read it and so that I don’t forget it.