Jack

I’d like to tell you a summer story I recollect from the year 1972 or thereabouts. I was 18 years old and seeking summer employment, so I ended up applying for a job as a drama teacher at a camp for medically challenged kids in Cobourg, Ontario. Camp Illahee. The children there were all quite ill in a lot of different ways ranging from Hemophilia to Epilepsy to other various and sundry conditions. This story concerns a young boy with serious heart issues. I don’t recall his actual name. I'll call him Jack.

In the daily routine that was Camp Illahee, breakfast was a big deal. It was served in a big meal room overlooking Lake Ontario and all the children were seated at tables according to their particular ailments. All the epileptics at one table, etc. This was mainly to facilitate the dispersal of pills. These kids had to take handfuls of them every day, so to avoid confusion and speed up the process, they were seated in groups.

It occurred to me one day that it might be an idea to have them tell a collectively derived joke about their particular condition once a week. To bring a sense of humour to the scene. This worked out really well and kids, being kids, they came up with some doozies. The only table that seemed to have difficulty with this, and the drama sessions in general, was the heart disease table. That particular illness often left the kids weak, small and somewhat introvert. I decided I would take my breakfast at this table to help them form their joke that one of them would deliver at the end of the week.

They were hesitant at first, perhaps because as a strapping, healthy male with shoulder length red hair and usually some form of flamboyant clothing (that being the style of the time) they viewed me with caution. But we soon got to know each other and later on, became good friends.

One little boy in particular got my attention. Jack was probably the weakest of the bunch but easily the smartest. He confided to me one day that he found it amazing that he had even been allowed to come to camp at all, being the child of doting and somewhat over-protective parents. But he had pleaded with them and here he was. Towards the end of the week, he told me that he had come up with a joke. Fantastic, I said, let’s hear it.

“Why is it okay to have a defective heart?” he asked, in his thin voice.  “Why?” I replied. “Because it can never be broken,” he said. I tried to laugh, but as you are probably realizing right now as you clear your own lump, it was hard. Anyway, I did, and the next day not only was that joke chosen by the table, but he had the gumption to get up and tell it. Not a dry eye in the house, folks, let me tell ya. But he got a huge round of applause. Quite a joke for a little guy. Made me wonder if he had seen The Wizard of Oz recently.

Now the big climax of the two week camp stay at Illahee was a canoe trip. The kids would be bundled up and bussed up to a lake that I figure was probably Rice Lake, that being the closest since Lake Ontario was considered too dangerous. Canoes would be rented, and we would paddle out to a nearby island for a picnic, then return by dinner time. The only children that couldn’t go on this trip were those that were physically unable to do so. They would get another sort of treat time.

When the lists were being drawn up for the trip, Jack wasn’t on it. He was considered too fragile by his parents. He was really down about this and moped about for days. I decided to approach the camp leadership and see if we could do something about it. They were hesitant, but when I suggested that he could come with me in my canoe by himself and I would keep a special eye on him they agreed to contact the parents. The parents, hesitant at first, eventually came around and drove up to the camp from Toronto to sign the necessary waivers releasing the camp from liability and such. This was in the days before internet obviously, so I actually met the parents. Their reaction to me was much the same as the kids at the breakfast table when I first approached them. But in the end, they warmed up, and I went to tell Jack that it was on. He was ecstatic.

Now, those of you who rely on totally happy endings may not want to read past this point. (Don’t worry, he didn’t die. Quite.)

On the day of the big trip, Jack and I made sure he had all his pills and emergency devices like epee-pens and the like, and we outfitted him with a very cool life jacket with a very politically incorrect picture of some warriors on the back. He was all smiles. We all piled into the bus and off we went.

When we arrived at the outfitters we were all assigned our canoes. Jack and I, being just a twosome had a somewhat smaller canoe than the others who were going to be paddling five or six to a canoe. We suited up with our life-jackets, loaded the picnic hampers and fishing gear into the canoes and off we went.

The island that we were going to was maybe a mile or two away and the councilors and other staff were going to be doing most of the paddling, so it wasn’t a big task to get there. Or so we thought.

About three-quarters of the way to the island the wind picked up and if you know anything about Rice Lake, it can quickly get rough, which it did. Jack took it like a hero even though the kids in the other canoes were looking a little nervous, as were the staff. But we were almost there so we decided to carry on.

We were about a hundred yards or so from the island when disaster struck. Jack and I were broadsided by a big wave, and we capsized. The gear fell out and Jack and I somehow ended up on opposite sides of the overturned canoe. I could hear him call my name from the other side even though I couldn’t see him. I couldn't fight my way around against the waves, so I took my life vest off and dived under the canoe and came up on the other side. He was having trouble getting a grip on the side of the canoe, so I grabbed him and hooked my arm under the side of the canoe and held on, kicking my legs to keep me in place. The other canoes had reached the shore except for the two that were manned by just two councilors for emergency purposes. I could see that they were speeding back towards us as quickly as the waves would allow but I was beginning to tire. I asked Jack if he was okay and he nodded yes, but I could see that he was scared and not just because of the rolling lake, but because he realized that his heart was under duress.

When the canoes finally reached us, Jack was lifted into one of them and paddled to shore. I came along behind him as soon as we had flipped the overturned canoe over and emptied it. He was starting to lose consciousness, so the camp leader radioed to shore, and a speed boat was dispatched to the island. In about an hour's time, Jack was being airlifted by helicopter to some hospital somewhere. Before he was carried away by the speedboat, I was holding his hand. As you might imagine, I felt awful. He was still conscious at that point, and he smiled up at me as he was being placed aboard. It was an ironic smile, somewhat sad I suspect for the way it had turned out but also, I think, grateful that he had been given the chance to try.

We heard several days later that he was okay and that no serious incident with his heart had occurred. I never heard about Jack again after that. At that time, most of the kids in the camp didn’t have very good prospects for longevity, so probably he is gone now. I hope not. And I hope that the canoe incident didn’t overwhelm his parents and that Jack got other opportunities for adventure. Knowing his spirit, I’m sure he did.