Camp is supposed to be silly songs, fun games and roasting marshmallows. The magic of camp is supposed to protect us from everything out in real life. Kids get to come to camp and be themselves, get dirty, be goofy and never worry.
On Wednesday afternoon I got a call from a parent. Her three boys have been coming to camp as long as I've been here and they are a wonderful family. She is a huge camp supporter, coming to a lot of our events (the last one being Counselor J's memorial). The two younger boys are scheduled to come to camp next week. The oldest is here this week and back next week in the Leader-in-Training program. The mom was calling to tell me that her neighbor was on the way to pick him up and would be to camp in an hour. His dad was in the hospital and very ill.
I ran down to the beach as the pontoon was sailing away from the dock. I managed to yell as loud as I could and flail my arms around to get them to turn around. I tried to look calm as I said, "I'm sorry everyone. Camper M needs to come with me for a little bit, sorry to interrupt." All of the LITs protested because Camper M is popular and it was weird that he had to go with me. I told him we needed to call his mom and he didn't ask any questions as we walked back to the Welcome Center. He was calm as he talked to his mom and as sweet as ever when he got off the phone and told me he had to go home. He calmly told me his mom kicked his dad out of the house in March because he was having emotional problems, but then a few weeks ago, his dad got sick and had to go to the hospital. They didn't know what it was, but now they know it is lung cancer and he doesn't have very long to live. Besides the three campers, there is a 6 and 3 year old at home. They are the sweetest kids and despite the dramatic story, a very nice family who are going through a lot of tough stuff.
Camper M's dad died today. His mom called to let me know she wanted to boys to be able to come back to camp next week, but would have to figure out the details of the funeral first. I held back tears as I told Camper M's group the news. They all cried. It was awful.
A few hours later, I got a text message from a different parent telling me news of another death. The mother of two of our return campers (who are scheduled to come to camp in two weeks), has been battling breast cancer for months and she died today. Those kids go to one of the schools that sends the most campers to camp and so I know several of the parents in that community. They are all encouraging the dad to stick with the plan to send the kids to camp.
Besides these families, two other campers both lost their dads earlier this year and the13 year old sister of one of our CITs committed suicide earlier this year. Counselor J's death in December. Nurse J being sick... none of this is supposed to happen. It's summer. It's camp. Glitter, rainbows, laughter, sugar... not death.
I've worked incredibly hard for four years to create a community- building relationships with kids, parents and getting to know entire families. I know that bad things happen all the time and usually, we just don't hear about it. That families are calling camp to keep us involved in their lives is a sign of a strong community and for that, I am really proud and happy to be able to be here.
After four years, I know kids, families, I remember older siblings, know which kids go to which schools. Recruiting has brought me into people's homes and special events have helped me get to know people outside of just a few minutes at camp once a summer. I have worked hard to call and email people, following up on their registrations, finances, special needs of each child, learning details of each family in the process. This year I have sent out emails once a week, counting down from 4 weeks until camp. My photo is at the top of all of the emails and each week, I cover different topics, encouraging people to call or email me with any question. Because of that, I have had more interaction with parents than ever before, and the majority of parents who arrive at camp greet me by name, ask about my dogs (who are also pictured) and have a sense of familiarity that calms their fears about leaving their child for a week.
Every week I tell the kids that they now belong to the camp family and they will always have a home here. I am working hard to make this camp more than a one time experience, but rather a constant in their lives, summer after summer. I want every parent and every child to feel like this is a home away from home with people who know them and care about them as if they were the most important people here. It takes an extraordinary amount of effort to build a community, but each year I can see and feel the growth and i it is the most rewarding thing I have ever done.
But I would be lying if I didn't admit that a small part of me wishes I could go back to the easy, light, superficial interactions and temporary relationships that come in an average camp program. When a kid comes to camp for a week, one time, I smile politely and say hello at drop off and pick up, not knowing names, not recognizing parents, no pressure, no responsibility to interact in a meaningful way or put in any extra effort. A one-size-fits all, generic, anonymous, regular old program. It wouldn't be as rewarding, but it wouldn't be as much effort either.
Because right now, my heart is breaking for my kids and my families. Genuinely caring about people means more than shallow greetings and artificial warmth, it means opening yourself up for the good and the bad parts of life. And that's really hard and takes every ounce of my energy. This isn't a job, it is a labor of love that I'm pouring my entire soul into right now. I'm proud of that and I love that. And let's be honest, I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I clocked in and out and left work at the office and then went home.
Community is built on a foundation of relationships, and the more connections, the stronger the bond. And that's what I hope to wrap around the campers who come to camp- whether they are average happy kids looking for a fun week, or kids who just lost their parent and need a place to heal- either way, I hope that this camp can be something meaningful to them. Because that is where I get my meaning from.
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