You wouldn’t expect rumors to be spread at a Christian camp, but that they are. I think I have heard rumors about practically everyone at camp, but the weirdest, funniest, most untrue one I have ever heard was about myself.

I went to camp one day, I can’t remember why, but I was there just hanging out with (my good friends, as in buds, amigos, platonic people) Pete and Sarah and company. I had fun. You know, it was camp. Camp is always fun.

Little did I know that nearly a year later I would find out that some of the other people who were there at the same time made up some tall tales about me that would shame the person who invented Pecos Bill. They said that I was at camp visiting (my friends as in Phoebe and Chandler friends, not Ross and Rachel friends) Pete and company because I had a bad family life and couldn’t go home.

Okay, obviously these people didn’t even know me or my dad or my entire corny ‘I love you, you love me’ family. So my dad tells dumb jokes. So my mom yells my name really loudly in public places. So my brother calls me a dingbat once in a while. So my cat has hair balls. I didn’t know that this made a bad home life. If I would have known that, I would have put myself on the back of a milk carton long ago.

I just don’t get some people. Their secret ambition must be to work for The Camp Michigamme National Enquirer, because inquiring minds want to know. I am kind of flattered that I was important enough for these people to talk about, but couldn’t they come up with anything better? Like, they could have said I was abducted by aliens or that I’m carrying Elvis Presley’s two-headed cat child. Or that I won the Olympics and stood on the podium in my underwear. Or that my husband sued KISS and I left him for our lawyer.(Keep reading!)

What gets me the most is that some of the people who were saying these things were (and I do use the word were because if it’s one thing my father cannot tolerate in his friendships it’s people who lie about him and his family) friends of my dad. Most of them I’d never met in my life, but a couple (one for sure) has known my dad for years. I happen to think my dad’s a pretty cool father. Apparently, this person, who was so concerned about my bad family life, doesn’t share my sentiments.

If you are one of those people who like spreading rumors, I don’t mean to rip on you. Go right ahead and do that if it floats your boat. But if you are going to say something about me, say something true. And if you find it absolutely necessary to write a column about me in The Camp Michigamme Star, say that I’m a secret agent for Fidel Castro. Just leave my family, my friends (as in buds), and my hamster out of it, especially if it is a big, fat lie. Thank you SO much.