I am afraid. I've never been away from home before, and tonight I cannot sleep. I am a bookish child, passionate about my budding Dungeons and Dragons career. I am told no, but there will be fishing. At least in fishing nobody ever calls you a pussy and beats you up and makes you eat pennies.
Fishing is the South's great social equalizer.
Sailing, of course, appeals to any kid who has never actually done it. My mom sews name tags into my underwear, and I'm off. Today is July 3. The camp is on an island in the middle of St. Joseph's Bay, and I am at a marina on the mainland. The bay is protected by Cape St. Joe, a thin spit of land that curls off the mainland like a gnarled, beckoning finger.