Camp Cole Rally

April 25, 1986

A nice size crowd of old faithful summer campers was on hand to honor Selma Vangsnes at a “Cook’s Tea”. She was given a large scrapbook in which to put all of the mementos she received during the evening. There were a couple of songs arranged especially for her, and which we all sang with gusto. Several of the Summer Camp past committee chairmen were on hand to reminisce about their particular camps, especially bringing into mind things pertaining to Selma and her kitchen equipment, and the wonderful meals she prepared for the campers no matter what kind of equipment was available. Selma was never at a loss to serve very fine meals regardless of the situation; even in the rain!

Jane Hackett, 1986 Summer Camp chairperson, presented slides of earlier camps that were of special significance to our honored guest, Selma. Various Obsidians narrated those earlier happenings. Jane then spoke of the upcoming camp at Black Lake just across the Snake River into Idaho. She gave us some pertinent information concerning Camp Cole, and showed slides of the area taken at a previous summer camp.

We all joined in on a parody of On Top of 0ld Smoky which follows:


On top of Selma’s spaghetti
All covered with cheese
I lost my poor meatball
When an Obsidian sneezed
It rolled off the table
And onto the ground
And then my poor meatball
Went leaping abound.
It rolled in the forest
And under a bush
And then my poor meatball
Was nothing but mush.
’Twas cause of a hiker
An Obsidian lass
Who sat down to
Rest her poor weary      .
The mush was as tasty
As tasty could be
And early next summer
It grew to a tree.
The tree was all covered
With beautiful moss
It grew big meatballs
And Tomato sauce.
So if you eat Selma’s spaghetti
All covered with cheese
Hold onto your meatball
And don’t ever sneeze.
John and Jan Baker Jacobsen
Then, the new cooks, Margit Hollerud with Jan White at the piano, led us in an Ode (and Owed) to our Retiring Cook:

Of all the arts in the good book,
The greatest of all is how to cook,
It takes some might; it takes some main,
To fry your pancakes in the rain.

With Selma’s touch, the old-timers say,
The result of her cooking was simply gourmet!
Aided by know-how, some salt and some flavor
She gave it a taste that all of us savor.

When you cook outdoors, the very first rule
Is — you have a good stock of fuel
Remembering that, be it of fir or oak,
It’s bound to cause a passel of smoke.

We decided to build Selma a tent
And a stove with a chimney right up through it went.
But though it met with her dearest desire
The tent soon caught on fire.

Steal not my hot rocks to warm up your bed,
Remember, remember what Selma said.
Catherine Dunlop burnt a hole in her pants
When she stole a rock and took that chance.

Selma fed all that came to our lair
With manna from someplace, we know not where,
For though the larder may have looked a bit bare
She was always willing to give us a share.

Now Selma is leaving and we’ll be cooking,
We’ll miss her, YOU’LL miss her, you’ll be looking
For roasts and steaks and lemon pie
Selma spoiled us in days gone by.

A toast, Obsidians, that all of us share,
May your days be sunny, your life always fair.
Here’s to dear Selma, who’s kept us alive
Since nineteen hundred and fifty-five.


For she’s a jolly good cookie,
For she’s a jolly good cookie,
For she’s a jolly good cookie,
That nobody can deny.

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