Eighty-two Degrees

July 16, 2025

Eighty-two degrees, not the ambient air reading, but the temperature of Lake Tarleton yesterday afternoon. I now know for certain the perfect number for Momma T to obtain for her palliative waters; eighty-two.

Like just about everyone else, I was drawn to general swim, which was offered during both A and B Block. I laced up in a life jacket and jumped into the swim lane dedicated to lap workouts. Just using my arms, I went back and forth 10 times, it taking a very long time to complete my happy chore.

But that was my goal, to stay in the drink for almost an hour. At eye level with the lake, I could witness the speedboats coming in and going out from the dock. One boat was taking just tube riders while the other was dedicated to water skiers.  This second group featured several slalom skiers, (one ski,) and I could sense their urgency from my level playing field, as it were.

There was not much wind but that did not stop Klaus the boat driver from losing his hat, which skier Billy L. scooped up on a brilliant maneuver. This I did not witness but heard about during dinner kudos.

Dinner broke up fast for the canoeing bunch that paddled down to Pirates Cove for which is probably the last overnight of the session. Every boy has had plenty of chances to go on these trips but we do not insist on it. Sometimes it takes more than one Kingswood summer for boys to discover all our hidden gems.

At breakfast just now, Todd reported on the Connecticut River fishing trip. As always, the group had a ton of fun, even if the fishing were a bit slack. “Fish get lazy, too,” argued Todd and speculated that maybe the second trip to that same venue scheduled for today – even hotter, they say – might employ a very slow reeling tactic designed to make it easy for the sleepy fish to take a bite. We shall see.

Eighty-two degrees; I would guess that we were close to this air temperature number at dinnertime and afterwards.  Just about the perfect number, land and sea. Another evening soiree for the seniors, this time the girls from Camp Merriwood, was held in our Main Lodge while our graduating sixth and seventh graders travelled the short distance to their place for much of the same.

Ask me how dances go and I cannot tell you a thing. I did witness the usual gaggles of boys on one side and girls on the other, but was later informed that, unlike those listless fish, the teens in truth had lots of energy stored up for the fling.