James Wilkinson

My summers at Cory in the time of Neal Gray were memorable and eventful. I experienced getting drunk for the first time (GCJs, they were called...Golf Course Jobs), getting very, very sick from all that alcohol (much to the dismay of my cabin cohorts), almost getting knifed by an inner-city kid who didn't like being told it was time to get up (only to be saved by the fast reactions of a CIT ('ZITs, we called them) from Rochester's mean streets) and discovering the girls' camp just down the lake. It was a simpler time, so the memories of getting up before everybody else, lighting off the cannon, and playing Reveille every morning are still fresh in my mind. One of my 'bucket list' items is to drive to Cory one summer before I leave this Earthly plane of existence just to see it.