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pm 6:52 Sunday 8 February 2004
There was something nice about summer camp. The counselors were
students at Dartmouth and Princeton, and they usually made sense.
Except for the sky hook.
At supper, one of the counselors, whose name was Charlie, I believe,
would ask me if I knew where the sky hook was. I'd say no, and people
would stop on the edge of laughter, then Charlie would ask me to
go to another table and ask Bill, another counselor, if he knew
where the sky hook was.
So I'd go from one table to another in search of the sky hook,
which somehow produced much merriment.
In a way, I still don't know why.
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