The French Fry Chief

"*gasp* It's the spirit of chief Takhomasak!"

Many a year at camp, the spirit of an ancient Indian (read Native American..err, staff member in costume) chief would come visit our campers, offering them words of inspiration and warn them that only they could prevent forest fires. But the time he was given a name, the camp staff struggled to contain their laughter at such a solemn occasion. Fits of giggling threatened to erupt from the otherwise (apparently) stoic group. One or two giggles managed to work their way free.

And the campers never knew why.

They never knew why such honest upright people (we sure had them fooled) would scoff at a symbol of honor, of tradition, would laugh at such a serious time. They didn't understand the humor, the amusement we felt. Mayhaps they just thought we liked forest fires.

But that's not the reason at all, it has nothing to do with honor or tradition or forest fires. It has nothing to do with Indians or Native Americans or staff members in costume. Rather, it's because camp apparently isn't the land of milk and honey. Apparently, camp was the land of burgers and fries.

The weekend between sessions, the staff had gone to Steak and Shake. Yummy milk shakes there, but they've also got their take-out line. And above their take-out line, they've got a sign. Most restaurants (with take-out lines) do, to let you know where to go to order. Most, however, say "To Go" or something. But not Steak and Shake. Nope, it says "takhomasak".