The Tin Can

I still don't have water or septic in the trailer, but it has become home and I am definitely enjoying having my own quiet space once again. Once I am able to pee in the middle of the night and shower and cook, it will be everything I could have dreamed of... ya know, for a camper...

Kitchen/Dining

Kitchen/Living (you can see my chair and couch covered in blankets to "dog-proof")

 The checkered linoleum is what we used to cover the white carpet. We duct taped it to itself and also to the linoleum that was in the kitchen. It isn't perfectly flat, but it looks pretty good. And so far, it is working well.

Bedroom (mirrored closet)

 There are two small steps that lead to the little hall outside the bathroom and into my bedroom. We used plastic covering (the kind people usually have on steps or in halls). It was a perfect width and is staying in place quite well.

This is the hall outside the bathroom looking down the steps

There is a lot of storage and it is a nice little house for one person (and two fat dogs). It has everything I need and is a quiet place away from the staff. Wireless internet works and there is even air conditioning for when it gets hot and I need to keep the bulldogs cool. 

I think I am going to like living in a tin can this summer. 

Positive Attitude

This is the view out of my new bedroom window.

“Whenever you hold on to anger or resentment or negative feelings, you’re basically taking a part of yourself and rendering it to that… Life is struggle, life is suffering, but life is also joy and you get to decide, to a certain extent, your own personal happiness by your attitude and what motivates you to get up in the morning. And I like to think I get up in the morning to look forward to another day of happiness. And if I’m stuck in the past, I’m certainly not going to get happiness.” -Phillip Sheppard

Summer #6

Summer 2008- I excitedly packed my bags and headed into the woods for my first summer away. I was ready for the adventure of a lifetime, ready to change lives, ready for fun. I was nervous, but excited, sure it would be the best job of my life.

I arrived at an empty, dirty, rainy, creepy camp. I was by myself. I walked around camp, made a long to- do list and by the time I got back to my house, I was more overwhelmed than I'd ever been. I laid down on the dirty couch in a strange house and cried.

I started a blog. http://sunshineandrainbowdreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/day-1-dumbfounded.html

There were more tears the next day. Camp wasn't home yet and I remember whimpering on the phone, telling my best friend that I felt like I was in the Box Car Children book.
http://sunshineandrainbowdreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/pitcher-of-pasta.html

Eventually the sun came out, the staff arrived, I stopped crying and camp turned into the wonderful adventure that I'd dreamed of. I had just turned 26 and I was running my own camp!

Six years later, I have once again arrived in the woods. Once again, it was raining when I arrived (it seems to do that every year).

Once again, I don't quite feel home yet. My fancy new trailer doesn't have water or septic yet. Also, it has white carpet (in what scenario would that EVER be a good idea for a camper?!) and we are planning on covering it with plastic to "dog proof" and "camp proof" it. But that isn't done yet, so I don't feel comfortable even stepping a foot inside since the rain has turned camp into one big sand/mud pit. So right now, my stuff is everywhere and I am displaced.

I am apprehensive and a bit hesitant about this summer ahead. But I am trying to remind myself of the hope and excitement and rainbow dreams of the past five summers....

Ready or not, here we go again...

Let the summer begin!!!!

A New Chapter

Last summer, the staff house flooded and the lead staff moved in with me. The staff break area was split beween the Rec Hall and my porch. It wasn't ideal for the staff or for me. We all need our own space.

My house is 4 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and makes the most sense to be the staff house. In February the board president had the idea to buy a camper as temporary housing for me for the summer (until camp could raise the money to build a new house). I was skeptical, but still believed we would eventually raise the money and rebuild.

In February, the BF and I went camper shopping. I almost cried when we walked through the first few. I couldn't imagine spending the summer in something the size of a closet. But eventually, we found one that was in our price range, had high ceilings, was spacious, clean, and even airconditioned. We purchased the camper and I started getting used to the idea of a new camp home.

This weekend the camper was delivered and I'm actually sort of excited. It is a cool little place and it feels like it might be sort of an adventure. Years ago, MTV had a reality show called Road Rules. Six 20-somethings lived in an RV and traveled around. I DESPERATELY wanted to be on that show. In hindsight, I'm not sure what about that appealed to me, but my younger self is finally getting that wish.

In addition to camper delivery, it was also work weekend. Work weekend is usually such a happy time. It's amazing to see so many people come together to get camp ready for the summer and over the course of just a day or two, watch as new projects get completed and camp is transformed. It was difficult to be positive this year, knowing that this is the last summer. I struggled to smile and talk about the future when I just wanted to shrug my shoulders and say, "don't bother, this is it."

No one else knows we are talking about closing. Deep down, I am hoping that something changes and when we meet in the fall, there's a surprise donation of a million dollars or someone steps up and decides to keep it going. But in the meantime, staying upbeat and happy for everyone is not easy. I feel like I'm lying, like I'm hiding something. I guess that's sort of true...

Besides the stress of putting on a good face for everyone, I also had to move the rest of my dad's stuff out of the house. Right after he died, D and I came up and took all of the important, valuable, sentimental things out. But the house was still his, still filled with his things. Most of it was stuff I didn't want, but also didn't necessarily want to leave behind. I struggled to throw away anything with his writing on it and had to calmly tell myself I couldn't keep every old to do list and post it note.

We boxed everything up and now my garage is filled with stuff I don't know what to do with. I'm sure it will get easier as time goes by and every year I will be able to get rid of a few more things.

I'm trying to stay positive and find gratitude for small amounts of closure. But mostly I just want to kick my legs and say, "this sucks" over and over and over again.

Failure

The more I think about camp closing, the more upset I get about it.

In the past few months, I've lost hope for the future of camp, but I was hoping that if I stepped aside, SOMEONE could save it.

My resume as Executive Director is impressive. In 5 years, the camp has gone from $300,000 in debt to debt free. Camper retention has increased from 20% to 65%. I created a year round marketing plan, a fundraising strategy, administrative systems, policies, procedures, an organized budget, developed programming... I could go on.

In the first year alone, we took 5 dumpsters worth of garbage out of the buildings (not to mention the piles of junk we burned). My only regret from this entire experience is not taking pictures the first year. I was embarrassed by the condition of camp, but I wish I had documented the transition.

The truth of the whole situation is that they should have closed this camp 6 years ago. Two years earlier, the board had met and discussed closing down, but brought in a consultant who came up with a plan to save camp. They hired a new director and recommitted to the future of camp.

When they found out he'd been paying for his gambling habit on the camp credit card, they fired him and asked me if I thought I could run camp myself.

At 26, I was fearless, naive and thrilled to have the opportunity to be in charge. At the end of the summer, I confidently set up a meeting with the board, had my speech prepared, and was ready to convince them to let me be the Executive Director. I walked out with the job and really thought it must have been my impressive professional skills that convinced them to hire me. In hindsight, I think they probably thought, "eh, give the kid a chance and we'll close it when she gives up."

And for almost 6 years, at every meeting, I've been optimistic, energetic and filled with stories about the good work we are doing. Money has always been tight, recruitment has been difficult, but I think they let me run with it because it's always all worked out and they didn't have to worry about it.

The board has let me live my dream. They let me run off to the woods every summer and play. It didn't matter that our budget was in the red- donations always seemed to roll in at the last minute and there was always the credit line to fall back on. I've lost a lot of sleep over the budget, desperate to get it to balance, but I think for board, they never really expected to get there, and in the meantime, they felt good about the work we were doing. They knew that the end was imminent.

And yet, I feel like I failed. I feel like it is my fault. I know it isn't. I know that I did everything possible to make this camp successful and that I kept it going for 6 years longer than it should have been. "Dug the organization out of a hole" isn't on my resume. "Kept a sinking ship floating for 6 years" isn't on my resume.

But still, if I heard about a camp closing after 66 years, my first reaction would be to blame the director.  Because if the director was good at her job, the budget would be balanced, the fundraising dollars would be rolling in, the campers would be registered, and the camp would be successful.

I'm afraid of what people are going to think. I don't want to be blamed. I'm more disappointed that anyone, I tried harder than anyone. And this sucks.