A Character

Some people who worked at Camp Read, a boy scout camp, looked and acted exactly like you would expect. This post is not about them. This post is for the characters. This post is about the Ragin Cajun. The Ragin Cajun was from Louisiana and you could tell immediately. He had that thick Louisiana accent. He looked like he could be Groundskeeper Willie’s cousin with red hair and a goatee. I didn’t work directly with the Cajun, but every time we hung out it was memorable. One night, we were drinking beer in the woods, away from the rest of camp. Camp had some strange rules, beer was absolutely forbidden. However, there were no rules against operating machinery and power tools that you were in no way qualified to operate. On a number of occasions I went off into the woods, in a pair of flip flops (Tevas) and shorts and cut down trees with a chainsaw. There was nothing too wild about this evening, yet. Just a few guys, in the woods, with a small fire. The beer supply began to run low. It was a 12 pack that came in a cardboard box. Conveniently, the fire was also running low. When we had started this little adventure there was still plenty of light. At this point, it was dark. We all knew our way around, but we did not have any flashlights and it was a little trip back to the main part of camp. None of us really gave it much thought. At some point, the Cajun decided that it was time to head back. He didn’t say anything. Rather, he simply put the empty beer box in the fire. As soon as it caught fire, he speared it with a stick and held aloft his makeshift torch. Just as we were figuring out his plan, he tore off into the woods pretty damn fast. We had trouble keeping up, but I still clearly remember that burning box streaking through the night. The embers and burning bits of cardboard that fell off left a trail not entirely unlike that of a comet. We made it back with no real problems. At this point, I thought the evening was over. The Cajun did not agree. I still don’t know why he did what he did next. He went into the tent of a fellow staff member (who fortunately was not in the tent at the time) and proceeded to upturn tables, pull the mattress off the cot and just generally act like a human hurricane. He gave no real explanation for why he did it. He had never expressed any ill will or negative feelings towards this person, if anything they were friends. I am not sure if an explanation was needed. You or I would have to explain what we did. But, we are not the Cajun. And the Cajun was Ragin.