The Night Crawler Special

I know I shouldn’t have been so mean spirited and I know I shouldn’t have done it, but he just kept pushing me. And I hate to admit it, but it felt good, really good at the time. Sometimes, even today, as I look back, I take some satisfaction in what I did, even though I know it was wrong.

As a nine-year old, it was my first experience at church camp. I only went because the other kids at the church were going. The camp was developed out of an old farm in the middle of no place. The male campers and their adult supervisors slept on cots in a barn. It had been minimally improved since its use as a cattle residence. The floor had been paved and there was a large shower complex, but that was about all the changes yet made. The girls slept in an old farm house. When the weather permitted, we all ate on picnic tables under sap-dripping pine trees.

For a reason I can’t recall, all of the campers had to walk along a back country road to another part of the farm. We all lined up for the journey, two by two, like animals heading for the ark. It was Sunday evening, the first night of this new experience and we were all on our best behavior, at least I thought I was. The journey to the other location proceeded without incident. The trip back to the barn was a different story. For some reason, a large, intimidating, adult supervisor chose to chide me in front of the other campers. He insisted that I wasn’t walking in line according to his specifications. I tried to comply with his drill-instructor directions but could not meet his expectations.

By the time we arrived at the barn, I was physically ill and ready to go home. Mustering all the nerve I could, I tentatively walked to the farm house where all of the staff, including Sarge, was sitting around the kitchen drinking coffee and swapping stories. I told them I was ill and wanted to go home. Most were sympathetic until Sarge clarified the situation. “Oh, you’re the kid who kept getting out of line that I had to yell at.” He made sure that all in the room knew that my poor behavior was the cause of my malady. “We see,” was the adult response. I was sent back to the barn, humiliated again.

For some reason this fellow found it necessary to pick at me for the next two days. He was too big to fight, too old to debate, and the rest of the staff had already pledged their allegiance to him Sunday evening. I couldn’t go home and I couldn’t spend the rest of the week at his mercy. I waited for my opportunity – and it came.

I finished supper quickly on Tuesday evening and slipped inconspicuously away from the picnic tables and headed for a predetermined location behind the barn. Turning over a large, flat rock, I found what I was looking for in all of its magnificence. It was the largest, slimiest night crawler I had ever seen. I gently held my newest ally in my hand and stealthily entered the barn. It took but seconds to find Sarge’s pristine cot. It was hard to believe that the blanket was tucked tight enough to bounce a quarter from it into the air and that the sheets were so clean and crisp. Carefully, I pulled back the blanket and slipped my new best friend into his new home. I returned to the picnic tables, my brief absence having gone unnoticed.

The sound made that night when Sarge crawled into bed was music to my young ears. When I awoke the next morning, Sarge and his gear were delightfully gone. At breakfast that morning I overheard staff members discussing his sudden departure. Apparently, some “dumb kid” had put a huge night crawler in his bed and he wasn’t going to stand for it and headed for home. Church camp was a great experience the rest of the week.

There are probably several lessons that could be learned from this experience. “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” saith the nine-year old boy. Night crawlers make strange bedfellows. Ask not what you can do for a night crawler, but ask what a night crawler can do for you.

Seriously, I never considered that this man may have been doing his best, giving up his time to help out the kids at church camp. Perhaps he was having personal problems in his life. Maybe, for whatever reason, he really did think I was doing something wrong. The greatest wrong is what I did to him and the real lesson should be, simply because it feels good, doesn’t make it good.