Proposal!

PDS arrived on Saturday and our fabulous lead staff foursome is now complete. I couldn't be more thrilled that she is here. Her creativity, easy-going way, kindness and sense of humor make her one of the most wonderful people I know. She's a slightly younger, more campy version of my best friend X, meaning that, as a human being, she is clearly exceptional. She has been with me since the beginning and I can't imagine camp without her!

Prior to her arrival, PDP, APDA and I have talked nonstop about the upcoming proposal- when, how, and all of the little details. PDP is one of the most girly men I have ever met. Ordinarily, that would probably be considered an insult, but I don't mean it in a bad way. He is sensitive, open with his feelings, incredibly thoughtful, romantic and genuine in everything he does. He doesn't hold back to try to be cool or put up a front.

He got excited every time she sent a text, glowed with happiness when he talked about her. He had several crafts he wanted to make to decorate for her arrival. He included us in all of his plans, asking for advice, sharing his ideas and letting us help. He wasn't macho or egotistic- just really open and genuine and expressive. It was really fun to be able to be part of such a special experience in two people's lives.

On Sunday, he took her to a nearby big city, they walked on the boardwalk, spent time together and eventually found a bench, where they sat and chatted and then he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. Afterwards, they went to a fancy dinner. While they were gone, APDA and I hung decorations made chocolate covered strawberries, set out champagne and flowers and had the house ready for when they returned. I can't say enough how wonderful it was to be part of their day.

They are madly in love, completely devoted to each other, committed to their relationship and I am (at the risk of sounding really cheesy) actually inspired by being around them. If I hadn't already broken up with my (now ex) BF, I think it's possible I would have this summer.

Every girl deserves the amount of effort PDP puts in and the complete devotion he has for PDS. My exBF couldn't even manage to plan a date and over and over, I excused him, arguing that he "wasn't a planner" but it's not about ability, it's about desire. Watching two people who are so in love makes me realize just how empty my relationship was. I'm not sure I was even in love with him. I was definitely in love with the idea of being in love and with what I imagined he could be. It was nice having someone, but ultimately, when that someone has the emotional expressiveness of a brick wall, just having someone isn't enough. There was nothing really there and we were simply going through the motions, co-existing, but not actually connected. I wanted more. I deserve more.

Right after we broke up, I really struggled as I wondered if I'd made the right decision. I was stressed out and lonely, with little to keep me distracted while I lived at deserted camp in the woods. Time away has helped- I miss having someone, but I don't miss him. And spending time with PDS and PDP has shown me how beautiful and amazing a relationship can be. I feel refreshed and hopeful when I am around them and I hope with everything that I can find that kind of connection someday too.

Serious Stuff

When I think of camp, I think about glitter, rainbows, sunshine, sugar, laughter, carefree joyful frolicking through fields of flowers. If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you know that camp actually involves a lot more dirt, crabbiness, and HR policies, but I rarely think about the serious stuff.

In September, Nurse J got sick. She thought it was just a cough and then thought it was bronchitis. Over the following months, she went to countless doctors, ended up in the hospital several times and eventually received a diagnosis of degenerative lung disease. She's on a million medications, oxygen, undergoing chemotherapy and is on a list for a lung transplant.

Every time I talk to her (which is multiple times per week), she is upbeat, laughing, asking for camp projects to keep her busy, joking and counting down until camp. She's very sick, but you wouldn't know by her attitude. I've only found out how serious it is because she will causally mention something and I will find myself, sometimes days later, asking, "wait, what was that about a lung transplant?"

I'm not sure if she is as upbeat and casual with everyone or if she is putting on a front for me, or maybe she's in denial and camp is thing she holds onto to keep her going. She is very open and honest when I ask questions and I know that what she is dealing with is incredibly serious. And yet despite knowing the seriousness, her attitude of "no worries! I'm coming to camp in a few months and everything will be fine" has been enough to distract me and keep me thinking that it's no big deal, everything is fine.

Today Nurse J went to the hospital for more tests. She's been struggling with solid food and speaking for a while, so the diagnosis of cancer of the esophagus (in addition to the lung disease) probably shouldn't have come as a shock. But once again, her email was casual, letting me know the doctors are hesitantly allowing her to put off more chemo for three months and that the time at camp will give her a break to find clarity to "decide if she will continue to fight this". I responded with, "what is the alternative to 'fighting'?"

Once again, I found myself thinking, "no big deal, it's gonna be fine". But the more I think about her words, I think, "wait, nothing about lung transplants, cancer and 'deciding whether or not to fight' is 'no big deal'". Smiles and telling me everything is fine has been convincing, but her upbeat attitude and her words don't match.

I'm not sure if she's in denial and she's hoping the glittery, carefree magic of camp will make everything better. Or if she knows there is no hope and she's wants to have one last hurrah in a place that she (and her son, who is the most important thing in her life) loves.

She is scheduled to arrive in a week. I'm waiting to figure out what's really going on until she's here. Deep down, I think I really believe camp is magical and being here will make her better and all of the serious stuff will be replaced by frolicking through fields of flowers. I know that innocence is probably ridiculous, but I'm holding onto hope for as long as I can.

Maintenance Assistant

2 weeks ago a kid (I know I'm old because 18 year olds are "kids") showed up on my doorstep out of the blue. I had just come back from a run and was sweaty, my hair was going every direction and I wasn't wearing cute exercise clothes, rather an unfortunate combination of paint stained sweats and a dirty tee shirt. I was covered in dog hair, the dogs were going crazy and I'm surprised he didn't run away from the craziness of the whole scene. I didn't look professional or even presentable, so when he asked if I was the owner, in my head I was thinking, "don't represent camp looking like this!!" Pushing my embarrassment aside, I told him I was the director and asked what he needed.

He asked if I needed someone to cut the grass or do maintenance work. I told him I could take him name and phone number and give him a call if I had anything for him. At first I didn't think I would need him, but even though my dad is feeling much better and back to work, he's not working full time and has been struggling to keep up. With 6 hours worth of grass cutting every week has been difficult to stay ahead of and the mosquitoes have been out in SWARMS.

So I offered him 25 hours a week, cutting grass, raking, clearing brush and keeping the grounds cleared. Maintaining the grounds takes so much more time than most people can fully appreciate, so it will be nice to have some extra help.

Maintenance Assistant(MA) lives right up the road from camp, so the added benefit is that we build neighborhood relations and add one more set of eyes to watch over camp. The more I have thought about him, the more benefits to employing him I have come up with.

A few weeks ago, we'd heard a rumor from another neighbor about a teenage boy who moved in with his grandparents nearby and was a bit of a troublemaker- breaking into barns and causing trouble. MA lives with his grandparents and is a bit rough around the edges (his two questions in our interview were- can he chew while moving the lawn and does he need to cover up his tattoos). I'm not sure if he is the hoodlum we've been hearing about, but perhaps this is a situation of, "keep your friends close and your enemies closer"- ie, let's give him a job and make him our friend so he doesn't break in to our buildings.

Rumors aside, I think MA is going to be a good addition to the camp team. You have to give him credit for taking the initiative to walk over and ask for a job. I like his ambition and so far, he's been working really hard.

During his interview he told me he'd grown up in a suburb near where I grew up. A few days after he began working, I was wearing one of my old YMCA shirts and he said, "you were a staff at the Y camp". Apparently he'd been a camper at my old camp and he recognized me. When he said that, all of a sudden, 10 year old MA popped into my mind and I remembered him. When I told my best friend X and my good friend M this story, (both of whom worked at camp) they recognized his name right away. I love when "what a small world" moments happen. Him being a former camper makes me pull for his success even more.

So camp has a new maintenance assistant. We'll see how it goes.

It Begins...

Lead Staff have arrived, which means summer has officially begun.

Assistant Program Director A is back for her third year. APDA is one of the loudest people I know. Her voice is sort of screechy and the majority of my family and friends who have met her find her to be really obnoxious. But there's something about her that I really enjoy and she's incredibly organized, hard working and helpful.

Program Director S won't be here until the weekend, but she is back for her 5th summer. She has been beside me for my entire camp journey and I can't imagine camp without her. The progress that we have made over the past 3 summers is unbelievable and last year at her mid summer review, I almost burst into tears as we reflected back on everything we'v done together. I am so thrilled she is back for another summer.

Program Director P was a counselor 2 years ago, missed last summer and is back to camp, this time as a lead staff. As a counselor, he was one of the most creative, most focused, most exceptional people I have ever worked with. I am thrilled that he is going to be a lead staff this summer.

In an interesting twist, about 6 months ago, PDS and PDP began dating! I was very surprised but very excited as I can't think of two nicer, more fabulous people. They are both very traditional and haven't dated much, and the moment I heard they were dating, I thought, "oh, they are going to end up getting married for sure!"

So when PDP asked me if I had a safe deposit box at camp yesterday and I asked why, I wasn't surprised at all when he pulled out a ring. Well, I was a little surprised because it's only been 6 months, but since PDS told me she was moving to Wisconsin at the end of the summer (where PDP has been accepted to grad school), engagement was clearly around the corner.

Two days into "summer" and already it looks like it will be action packed, filled with many interesting twists and I can't wait to see what is next...

Work Weekend 2011

This weekend was our annual work weekend. Usually it is at the end of April, but this year we pushed it back to give my dad some extra time to heal (and because registration was really low in April, so we were hoping more people would sign up).

Work weekend is always a WHIRLWIND. We had about 65 volunteers this year, which is slightly lower than in the past, and it rained all day on Saturday, and yet, we still got an amazing amount of work done. Everywhere I looked, people we cleaning, clearing paths, fixing screen doors, plumbing, doing electrical work and many other random things.

For 3 years, I've been annoyed that the light switch for the kitchen is at the back of the kitchen, meaning you have to navigate through a dark room before you can turn on the lights. A team of electricians did a variety of jobs this weekend, including putting a light switch outside the kitchen, adding outlets in places we've been wishing for outlets, motion sensors and timers on some of the lights as well as installing new, more energy efficient lights in the main lodge.

Possibly the best part of the weekend was a compliment I received from a man who was on the board of directors for almost 20 years and has been involved with camp since the 1980s. He told me he had never seen camp looking so well cared for. I appreciated his compliment because he has been around for a long time and has seen it at its best and worst.

By the time the last volunteer left today, I started feeling more ready, and excited for camp than I have for weeks. Summer is near...

Getting Through

Camp is not fun without staff, kids, programming, or sunshine. I thought being here would give me 2 months head start on organizing and getting ready for camp. But it has rained the majority of the time I have been here and all I have wanted to do is sit on the couch.

I broke up with my boyfriend shortly before coming to camp and even though I was the one who ended the relationship, I have been struggling to find peace with my decision. Endless days of nothing to do but think hasn't exactly helped and I think it's possible I've been close to losing my mind on multiple occasions.

For a few weeks, I was also fighting with my brother, which was actually worse than the end of my relationship. My brother is one of my most favorite people and not having him to talk to regularly and being mad, combined with endless hours of thinking... bad news.

I know that the gray rainy weather and my gray mood won't last forever- summer will be here soon. So I've just been trying to be nice to myself and patient and understanding that sometimes there are rough patches and I just have to get through it until it gets better.

I've spend endless hours on the phone with my best friend and with my mom. I've spent a lot of time with my puppies. I'm just getting through the in-between time right now. And I see glimmers of the sun, so I know that pretty soon, it will be better....

Final Paper

For my final paper for class, I had to choose a nonprofit organization to write about. The first five pages traced the history- from the beginning stages until present day. The last three pages analyzed the current position of the organization.

Founded in 1947, camp has been around for a long time. However, the history of the organization, photos, stories, artifacts, are limited. Over the past three years, I have heard stories, found things in drawers, met people who have filled in details, and little by little put together the pieces. It is sad that an organization that has been around for so long has not been preserved, but with the amount of turnover in leadership, it's not a surprise.

This paper was a great opportunity to really dig in and research the history. I interviewed several board members and two former directors. I read meeting minutes from 1949 until present. I made a chart of summer registrations, listed the names and dates of all of the previous directors, and by the time the paper was complete, I felt a new and deeper connection to camp than ever before.

I gained a new appreciation for the organization, the people who came before me and the fact that I am part of something that is much bigger than just the few summers I have been here. Camp has become my whole world, but really, I am just a small piece of a greater history. My perspective on my role at camp and camp overall has changed. Camp is not about me, what I want or my vision; rather, it is an honor to be part of and to take my turn leading this organization.

I received an 'A' on the paper and in the class overall. But by the time I submitted the paper, I had learned so much and felt such a deep connection to camp, that even the best grade couldn't possibly represent what I had gained.

Low Sodium

On the Early-Bird low sodium menu this evening is homemade pizza- I kneaded the dough myself.

I considered myself a pretty healthy cook until I began consciously cooking low sodium for my dad. But I'm adjusting and getting more and more confident with each meal.

Here's what I have learned so far-

1. Plan ahead- google recipes, shop for ingredients and start cooking early.

2. Staples that I used to have on hand (chicken stock, bread crumbs, cream soups, sauces, spice mixes, etc)= super salty (even the "low sodium" versions). You can get acceptable replacements at specialty grocery stores or in the organic section, but the small stores up north don't have much to offer. However, all of those things can be made (think- 1940s housewife in a frilly apron). Google it.

3. Make a menu in advance (see #1- plan ahead) so that you can make all of those "staple items" in advance.

4. Salt, butter, sugar, grease, preservatives- those are all the things that make everything taste good. The healthy version of everything tastes slightly different, but you get used to it.

So far I've succeeded with chili, chicken soup (noodle and rice), fettuccine alfredo, spaghetti and meatballs, fish, steak, roast chicken with stuffing, and today- PIZZA!

Customer Service

From now on, I only want to interact with people who have been trained in the art of customer service. There is nothing better than good customer service.

This morning I was on my 8th phone call in what has become a battle to get my dad's hospital records transfered to his primary care doctor. When my dad got out of the hospital, I asked how what we had to do to have the records transfered. "Oh it's automatic, don't worry, we'll get them there."

Uh huh.

When I called his doctor a week after he was released, the records weren't there. So I filled out a request form. And then I called back a few days later. And then I made 6 additional calls to try to straighten it out. It's a simple thing that I assume they do on a regular basis.

Finally this morning I was ready to burst into tears of frustration. I have done everything right. I am being as thorough as humanly possible. But it wasn't working and no one could help me. When I was transfered to the supervisor of medical records at the hospital, I was mentally preparing myself to be calm- I know it wasn't her fault. But my frustration got the best of me and as soon as I started talking to her, it turned into a two minute rant without pause for breath or to let her get a word in edgewise. I could hear myself and I knew I sounded hysterical. His appointment is tomorrow, so I also knew there was really nothing she could do to get the records there, but I couldn't stop my words from spewing all over her.

But this woman had obviously been trained in customer service and when I finally stopped speaking, she was prepared. First she apologized and then she empathized, and even though or maybe because I knew her technique, I immediately calmed down. Then she told me she was looking into it, giving me specific information that told me she was actually looking into it. And then she told me she would personally call the clinic and make she the records arrived via fax and that she would work out getting his scans transfered. She gave me her name, phone number and pager number and she told me she would call me back later to follow up. And later, she did call me back and somehow, the office had the records and my dad's doctor's nurse was personally looking at them to prepare for the appointment tomorrow. And I could have cried out of relief and appreciation.

There is nothing worse than having a problem and feeling powerless to fix it. And there is nothing better than when you finally find the person who has the power and can fix it for you.

Single Mom

My dad and I have been at camp for almost 2 weeks now and he's getting stronger every day. He still sleeps a lot and is limited in the things he can do, but we can both see the improvement, so that's the most important thing.

I'm happy to be here for my dad and I'm thankful for the ability to be here. He needs someone to be with him, and I think recovering in his own home is good for him, so my being here is necessary. And I will be here as long as he needs me (and probably longer than that since camp is right around the corner and I would be here for that regardless of his health).

As I said, I'm happy to be here for him. But I feel like I'm a single mom. Actually, I feel like a single mom from the 50s, or a single mom on the prairie or a poor single mom. Let me explain.

For the first week or so, my dad could do very little. I helped him put on his socks, told him when to nap, when to wake up, hooked up his portable oxygen tank and helped him walk to the mailbox and back. I pretty much never let him out of my sight, except to sleep, but I found that I slept much lighter than usual, waking up to every little sound in the house. He seemed so fragile and I was worried all the time. Our bedrooms share a wall, so I heard every time he tossed and turned.

The first week home was a sleep deprived blur of laundry, cooking, cleaning, and trying to keep him on a schedule. Wake up, get him dressed, make him breakfast, clean up breakfast, convince him to take a short walk, he naps while I cook or clean or do some work, wake him up from nap, feed him lunch, clean up lunch, another walk, make dinner, clean up dinner, he goes to bed and I crash onto the couch wondering where the day went as I had little to really show for it.

In the hospital, he gained about 45 pounds of excess fluid on his legs and abdomen (his liver wasn't able to keep up with filtering it out) and so he needs to be on a low sodium diet to prevent any more fluid retention. Low sodium- no big deal- I'm a healthy cook... um, wrong. I had NO idea how much salt is in EVERYTHING. Canned peas, spaghetti sauce, chicken broth, tortillas... The first trip to the grocery store took twice as long as usual because everything I picked up was too salty.

So now I cook pretty much everything from scratch because it's much easier to cut the salt out, however, I literally cook all day every day. One of the first days home, my dad walked into the kitchen and asked, "what are you making?" because there was a pot on the stove (chicken stock), a pan on the stove (cream of mushroom soup), a loaf of bread drying on the counter (stuffing and also bread crumbs) and none of it was actual dinner, just things I would usually buy at the store to use in meals I cook. I feel like I'm an apron away from being in 1950 or little house on the prairie. If feel like pretty soon I'm going to start mending socks and washing clothes in the lake.

Since the first week, my dad has been steadily improving and is getting much stronger. He's now dressing himself and keeping himself busy between naps. I'm getting more and more creative in the kitchen, running every day, playing with the puppies, getting tons of work done- all while balancing 3 or 4 pots and pans on the stove at once.

But then the day ends and I live in the woods. With no tv. And not much to do. So in addition to being a single mom, I'm apparently a poor single mom. It turns out living at camp is only really fun when you're getting ready for summer and lead staff are here and it's warm outside and every day is a sprint to get everything done in time for the adventure that awaits. But with a month of single motherhood ahead and snow in the forecast for tomorrow (despite it being April 19!), I'm feeling crabby.

Okay, okay, I'm having a little pity party for myself because I miss having a boyfriend, going out for sushi, drinking wine and devoting all of my free time to myself. I'm not actually a single mom. And with the amount of online shopping I do, it's probably sort of offensive to actual poor single moms to compare my bummer week with their actual lives.

Being able to help my dad during this time is a privilege. I know he will not be here forever and I will look back on this time and be very thankful for having spent it with him. And I'm getting really good at cooking. And my dogs are happy play freely in the woods all day. So I should probably stop whining and be thankful for the good things in life.

Education Round 2

For my final paper for my grad school class, I have to write an 8 page paper- an in depth look at an organization (delving into a variety of different aspects of the nonprofit).

When I looked at the full description of the paper, I couldn't help but this how beneficial it would be to study and analyze camp. My time is spent on day to day operations, there's not really time left over to do this sort of study of the organization, so if I could use my classwork as an opportunity to do a project I don't have time for, it would serve duel purposes. I didn't think that my professor would go for it, but I decided to ask anyway.

As I'd expected, she said no, but her reasoning was that she thought it would give me an advantage over the other students.

What?

This is an online class and we don't see each others papers. We aren't graded on a curve. My work has absolutely nothing to do with the other students.

So after a few days of being annoyed and struggling to decide which organization I would study, I decided to email her back and plead my case. I sent a very well thought out, polite email, arguing that as a struggling organization, all of the information I needed for the paper wasn't readily available, so it would still be a lot of research and work (and not just the easy way out) and that because it is something my organization needs, this would be not only be me learning the concepts and information, but also doing hands-on work that can actually be used.

Her response was, "I would prefer that you do not use your organization for your final paper. I do feel it gives you an advantage over the other students. However, I will make an exception if you are willing to forfeit five points. Let me know what you decide."

Perhaps this email came when I was more exhausted than I realized, but her answer annoyed me so much I wanted to scream!

As an undergrad, everything I learned was theory and concept- I couldn't apply it to "real life" because learning was my whole life. I would have written the paper on anything she wanted. I would have jumped through the hoops so I could get a good grade. But this class has been a different experience because I am able to directly apply each new lesson to my present day work. So it just makes so much sense to me that this assignment not only be for learning, but also for practical use. I like learning for the sake of learning, but in this case, it seems like a waste of time when I could be learning and DOING something useful at the same time.

But fine, she was willing to let me do it, minus 5 points. I gritted my teeth in annoyance and wrote a slightly more snappy response than I ordinarily would-

I wasn't aware I was in competition with the other students. I have learned a great deal from the other students in discussion, and I hope they have benefited from my contributions as well. However, I am in this class to learn for my own sake, regardless of the other students.

I will take the 5 point deduction because regardless of my grade at the end, I think I will learn more in the long run. I'm not in this class to compete or to try to have the best grade- I am in this class to gain knowledge in order to best run my organization.

Thank you for the exception.

I've been ideal student my entire life because I have always done exactly what I was told. I never had trouble with authority or rules. I was successful because I gave my teachers exactly what they asked for without question. I started my career in the same way, but as my leadership skills have developed and as I have become confident as an adult, I have become peers with so many of the authorities I spent my life answering to.

So education is different this time around.

When I was 18-22, I would have thought the professor knew everything and couldn't be wrong and if she wanted an assignment a certain way, I would trust there was a reason for it.

Now?

This woman is a few years older than me. Like me, she's had a career in nonprofit organizations. She has more work experience than I do and certainly more knowledge in the nonprofit sector overall. But the grammar on her syllabus sucks, which yes, I notice and judge. Our titles of "professor" and "student" separate us, but I not enough to turn me back into an obedient 18 year old.

Advocate

My dad is on oxygen for the next few months until his lungs completely recover. When he left the hospital, three different types of equipment were delivered to my house- a concentrator, which is like an oxygen tank but it runs on electricity. It has 50 feet of hose so he can walk around the house without having to carry anything with him. He also has oxygen tanks and a little cart so he can leave the house and still have oxygen with him. The tanks last about 4 continuous hours, so we have several of them. We also have a back-up tank, which is the same as the portable, but lasts 24 hours (in case the power goes out and he can't use the concentrator).

When we moved to camp, I couldn't fit the back-up tank in my car (we had a lot of other stuff), nor could I lift it myself, but the medical supply company had already said they could pick up and deliver any of the equipment.

Thursday we were supposed to get the new back-up tank, more portable tanks and also some pads for the tube because his ears have been really sore where it rests. I was in the city for a meeting, and when I returned later, my dad told me that the delivery guy didn't have the back-up tank or ear pads, but he'd offered to bring them when he returned to the area in 4 weeks.

My dad told him that was fine, but he should probably expect an angry call later.

4 weeks?! Um, no. Completely unacceptable. Cue angry phone call.

My mom always warns me to be polite. I think it is because when I tell her stories, I usually include the phrases, "stupid idiots" and "they've gotta be f&@%ing kidding me?!" a lot. But I'm always polite.

"The driver told me he forgot the ear pads. I've already fed-exed them out to you" was the response as soon as I told the coordinator my name.

"And the back-up tank?" -me

"He forgot that too?" -coordinator

"Yes, he had three things and he forgot two of them. What can you do for me?" -me

"I can have him back to you on Monday?" (his tone was more of a question)

"Today would be better."

"How about tomorrow morning?"

I feel like I've been fighting every step of the way since this whole fiasco began. I'm not sure if this is how it goes when someone gets sick. Everyone told me I needed to be an advocate for my dad and that I've been doing a good job. I don't think I've been unreasonable with my expectations and I don't regret any of the demands I've made thus far. I've been polite, patient and kind. But I have also been assertive, thorough and relentless.

I'd like to think my dad would have gotten the same level of care regardless if I was involved or not. But I'm actually not sure if that is the case.

I'm not sure what people do if they don't have someone there to advocate for them. Even if you are completely competent and assertive normally, when you are sick, you truly can't advocate for yourself. It's a little bit scary to think about actually.

Recovering at Camp

One week ago (on Thursday), my dad got out of the hospital. On Friday, we drove back to camp. Originally, we all thought he would stay at my house for a few days or even a few weeks. I wasn't sure how many follow up appointments he would have, and we didn't want to rush off to the woods if he still might need to go to a doctor.

But his follow up appointment isn't for two weeks and there was no reason to stay at my house. In the 24 hours he was there, he was already starting to go crazy. No matter how comfortable I tried to make the spare room or the rest of my house- he wanted to be at home. His home. In his bed. With his stuff. His surroundings. When you don't feel well, you want to be in the place you feel most comfortable, so being at my house wasn't going to work.

Also, we are in a unique situation- I can work from anywhere, so I didn't have to take time off from work. I also just happen to live at my dad's house for 4 months a year, so moving with him wasn't difficult either. I was going to move to camp in the middle of May anyway- moving a month early wasn't a big adjustment. My brother and my aunts all live in the city, so moving 3 hours away up North meant that they wouldn't be much help, but ultimately, this is about what is best for my dad, not what is most convenient for all of us.

We've been here a week now and it's going well. My dogs are thrilled to be back at camp, living the dream life, relaxing outside and playing until they pass out. I don't have to drive to the office in the morning; I've pretty much worn sweatpants 24/7 and with little to entertain me, I've been incredibly productive with both camp and school work.

And my dad is improving- 3 weeks ago the doctors said he might die. So the fact that he is out of the hospital is a huge improvement. Recovery is going to be a long road- he needs help putting on his socks and he naps several times a day. We take two walks a day- just slightly farther than the mailbox and back, which still requires several breaks and he usually has to nap afterwards. He has to use oxygen 24/7, which he hates and he is on a strict low sodium diet, but he's improving every day. He gets frustrated sometimes, but this is just a small speed bump along the road of life. Maybe someday we will look back and laugh, or well, if not laugh, at least be able to say, "remember that short period of time when it was kinda rough- I'm glad that's over!" So we'll move forward, one day at a time, until this is behind us.

Hospital

After 15 days in the hospital, my dad is out. A broken rib led to a broken blood vessel, which led to a chest filled with blood, which led to a blood infection, which led to a helicopter ride, 4 days in the ICU and 15 days overall in the hospital.

I've been at the hospital every day. I don't think I've ever done anything for 15 days straight- even at camp there are weekends. It's been a blur of medical lingo, exhaustion, stress, unanswered questions and at the risk of making this about me, and not my dad (who was, ya know, in the hospital), I feel like I've been in a nonstop battle.

At first my dad was in too much pain and too drugged to comprehend anything. They told me to prepare myself that he might not walk out of the hospital. Helicopter and ICU aside, I didn't think we were talking about death serious. The doctors didn't have any answers, he was just a complete wreck. His lungs were filled with fluid. His liver couldn't keep up and was thus not functioning. His kidneys, blood pressure, pancreas- they were all messed up. He had a raging infection, somewhere in his body. I just kept thinking, "it was just a broken rib, that's not a big deal. This can't be right."

They tested everything every day and every day, I demanded to know what the results were, to see the scans, to speak with the doctors. I developed a reputation early on- polite but demanding. He wasn't coherent enough to answer questions or retain any information, and he deferred to me to speak and listen for him.

He moved out of the ICU, which they told me was a good thing, but I was still stuck on that whole, "possible death thing" so I wasn't celebrating. The first night on the regular floor went fine. But the next night I got a frantic call from my aunt, who told me he was talking gibberish (which he had been for a few days) and that he was very agitated. A few minutes later she called back to say he'd pulled everything out- chest tube and IVs. When I got to the hospital a few minutes later, my dad told me the nurse was hurting him and begged me not to leave his bedside. For 6 days he'd been telling me he was fine and to go home and not worry, so this was new.

I'd warned the nurses to watch him before I'd left earlier that day. He was confused and trying to take apart several pieces of medical equipment. I wouldn't say I yelled, but I certainly didn't hold back, and I was aware that there were several nurses watching me as I spoke with the head nurse. They moved him to a different room, with a different nurse and he calmed down. Early the next morning, I was back and ready to be there for the day. When he woke up, he didn't know where he was, was seeing things and I was afraid it was going to be a very bad day. But eventually the meds wore off and he calmed down and by the end of the day, he was okay again.

Day to day was a roller coaster- one day he would be feeling good, talking about projects at camp, telling me to go do something fun instead of hanging out at the hospital. The next day, he would be depressed, sure this was the end and he wasn't getting out of the hospital ever. I spent the days sitting by his bedside, refilling his water, telling him he would be fine, helping him change his gown or go to the bathroom, hunting down his nurse every few minutes to request another blanket, more pain medication, or any other random thing he wanted. I spoke with dozens of doctors, physical therapists, occupational therapists, the dietitian. I knew his stats better than any of them and peppered them with questions.

When he got strong enough to move around, I helped him stand up, go for walks, shower. Once he was feeling slightly better physically, the biggest challenge seemed to be emotional. With no real schedule, nothing to do and still feeling pretty awful, the days were difficult for him. I would arrive first thing in the morning and tell him our plan for the day. Brush teeth. Change gown. Walk down the hall. Nap. Eat. Breathing exercises. Nap. Snack. Walk. And so on and so on. Having a schedule seemed to help keep him upbeat.

When I was at the hospital, I was worried about my dogs or housework or feeling like I should be in the office or worried about school work. When I was in the office, I wanted to be in the hospital, afraid I was missing some new piece of information. For 15 days, I've wanted to crawl out of my skin- completely unable to feel comfortable anywhere. I felt like I was fighting the whole time- fighting for information, fighting to make sure he was getting what he needed, fighting to keep him optimistic. It's such a powerless feeling. Waiting for test results, waiting for medicines to kick in, waiting for progress, for answers, for normal to come back.

But now he's out and we're starting the rehabilitation process. The doctors say 2-3 months. He claims he's a fast healer and they don't know what they are talking about and he'll be fine in a few weeks. Arguing and knowing more than everyone is a clear sign to me that he's feeling stronger, so I'm happy to hear him rant. And hopefully he'll be good as new as quickly as he thinks...

Thug Life

The hospital my dad is at is a level 1 trauma center. The patients here are the worst of the worst. They don't just have an injury or illness, they are also addicted to drugs, have ongoing health problems and have had rough lives. According to the nurse who explained all of this to me, that's a good thing.

"You don't want your dad to be the sickest person the doctors have seen. Yes, his injury is serious, but it's pretty basic compared to some of the patients they see. These doctors are used to complicated, and so your dad is in good hands."

I hadn't thought of it that way and her logic was comforting. I'm not sure how accurate it was, but it was comforting. The hospital is in the middle of downtown and every time I walk inside, I have to pass by the creepy people standing outside (why so many people are standing outside a hospital, I have no idea).

Walking inside today, a thug-ish, potential gang member was hanging out and as I approached he said, "hey girl". Judging by the way he put his hands up and backed away, I'm guessing the look I gave him fully conveyed my feelings of rage and potential for violence. I've been at the hospital 6 days in a row, my dad is 45 pounds heavier than when he arrived (his abdomen and legs are filled with fluid because his liver isn't working) and I'm not sure how long it's going to take for him to get better. I'm scared, I'm tired, I'm stressed out and I am not happy about being at this hospital with all of the riff raff in the city.

I carry pepper spray on my key chain and I wouldn't hesitate to use it on my best day, so today is not the day to try me. Don't let the khaki pants and pink shirt fool you- I am the most threatening person out here.

Promise

"Can I go play over on that pile of broken glass on the edge of that cliff with those rabid wolves?" -Camper

"No, that's not safe, you could get hurt." -Me

"But I promise I won't get hurt." -Camper

"You promise promise???" -Me

A little while later, camper comes to me crying and bleeding.

"But you promised you wouldn't get hurt!" -Me

This isn't an actual scenario, rather, a culmination of experiences from early in my career. As an 18 year old, with little experience with kids, it's difficult to say no. Kids will say anything to try to convince you and even though you've been trained in safety procedures, 8 year olds can be very convincing.

Convincing until you have to go to your boss a few times and ask for an incident report and you learn that kids can't actually promise not to get hurt, accidents are, by nature, unintentional.

A month ago, my dad fell and broke his ribs while working. I wanted to file a worker's comp report but because my dad hates all things official, he was completely against it. We argued for 2 days and it was difficult for me to make a decision against my dad's wishes, even though I knew it was the right choice.

But then he said, "I promise this isn't a big deal and nothing else will come of it" and a GIANT red flag shot up and I remembered every similar conversation I'd ever had involving campers making that same promise, and my decision became clear. Even more convincing than my commitment to running this camp according to policy and procedure (which is strong), was the fact that "I promise I won't get hurt" is an almost guarantee that blood is imminent.

Cut to a month later (ie- Thursday of last week) and I miss 4 calls during the time it took me to shower. Willy was driving my dad to the hospital because he couldn't breathe. Which soon led to him being moved into the ICU. Which led to a helicopter ride across the state to a level 1 trauma center intensive care unit, 2 chest tubes and a possible upcoming chest surgery.

As of today, he's been in the ICU for 4 days and his hospital stay is going to be at least another week.

He promised that nothing would come of a little cracked rib. Luckily I'm not 18 and worried about being the "bad guy" anymore. I learned my lesson, a few bloody campers ago- making the right choice and dealing with a crabby kid (or dad) is tough, but not nearly as tough as a conversation that starts with, "but you promised..."

Party

I'm trying a new technique to recruit campers by asking parents to host a part in their home, invite other parents who might be interested in camp and let me show a video, talk to them and convince them our camp is the place for their child. This was a very common thing for camp directors did many years ago. Some still do it, and so far, it seems promising.

One of the mother's who agreed to host also sells Mary Kay products, so she's done lots of these types of parties and will hopefully be successful in helping me sell camp. In addition to a camp party, she is also hosting a Mary Kay party that day, which will hopefully increase the number of attendees. She told me about it so I could stay after my part was done and I was planning on it, until I got the invitation today.

It's not just a Mary Kay party, it is also a Pure Romance party. If you have not heard the million radio ads for Pure Romance, it is just like a Tupperware or make up party, but for sex toys! I'm a bit uptight to begin with and I think if I ever attended one of these I'd have to spend the evening actively pulling my jaw off the floor in between gasping at nearly everything that was brought out.

With friend, it would be awkward. But with a camper's mother (and a room of potential camper mothers), the very thought gives me the chills. I've not been to one of these parties, but I imagine it is like a Tuppeware party where the host takes out a product, we all pass it around, oohing and ahhing. I'm picturing a giant penis shaped toy and trying to think of what kind of reaction I would have when it was passed to me. Polite head nodding? Pinch it between two fingers and avoid looking directly at it? Excuse myself to go to the bathroom as soon as it is brought out of the bag? Feign wild enthusiasm and excitement? Perhaps not even the way these parties work, but the though of it makes me want to crawl under a rock and die.

So now I'm thinking up excuses for how to get out of there as soon as my presentation is done. I'll let you know how it goes...

Climbing

My boyfriend and I went on vacation with 3 other couples last week. These were my BF's friends, and I hadn't spent much time with them up until this trip, so there was lots of "get to know ya" conversations.

Most of them worked for big companies and as late 20 somethings, are working hard to climb the corporate ladder, establish themselves, and move forward in their careers. Not all of them liked their jobs, but acknowledged that it was part of the process. They were curious about my job- a small nonprofit organization, a board of directors as a boss, working with kids- all of it was very different that their jobs.

"Climbing the ladder" seemed to be a pretty common topic that everyone, despite having different jobs, was doing. As we spent the week laying by the pool and chatting, I heard about their current positions, jobs they wanted to apply for, their dream jobs for the future and the process of how to get there.

In several conversations, I heard similar comments from my vacation comrades- success means achieving the “right” title, gaining power, prestige and respect, and making the most money you can in your field.

Years ago, I fell in love with camp and decided I wanted to work in camping forever. Early on, using the same criteria for measuring success, I chose the highest position you could have- executive director- and set my sights on that as my ultimate goal.

After three years of being there, my goal has changed slightly. I still want to be an executive director, running a resident camp. But after reading every book and article I could find about camp, and getting to know dozens of other camp directors from a variety of different camps- all who have had vastly different careers, I am able to better define what I aspire to become.

I want to be a camp director that spends her entire career in one place. I want to put my passion and energy into building a community and making a lasting impact on both the camp and the people who come to camp.

I want my career to be a journey of growth, learning, and love.

It’s not about money, achievement, or getting ahead. It’s about making a commitment- planting seeds and watching them develop over time. It’s about facing the challenges, celebrating the successes, and being consistent throughout the years of growth and change. It's the ability to look back and know your hard work has gone into creating something.

In the past, people had the same job for decades, but now it’s common for people to change jobs every few years. I know that my life and my dreams might very well change in the future. It’s difficult to plan where you’ll be three years from now, so planning 30 years ahead is probably unrealistic. And I recognize that my “career goal” (if you want to call it that) is a bit idealistic.

So when the question of, “where do you hope to be in your career in 5 years?” comes up, I tend to just shrug and say, “oh, I’m not sure exactly what’s next for me” and then direct the conversation back to them. Because there's no way to say, "I'm working on building a legacy" without causing everyone in the room to roll their eyes.

Rally Day 2011

Camp's third annual Rally Day was this morning. As always, I was SICK to my stomach, terrified no one would show up or that some sort of disaster would occur. I hope that there comes a time when I don't agonize over every event, because today was lovely and all of my worrying was pointless.

7 of my summer staff from last year, Nurse J, my boyfriend, my mom and I arrived early to set up. We did it in a different location this year, which was a much bigger space, but, I feared, if only a few people came, would be awkwardly empty.

We set up an information table, camp store items to sell, face painting, a coloring contest, a scavenger hunt, as well as several other games, including a makeshift gaga pit. Both dogs were there, my saint of a mother walking them around, making sure they got water, went outside and didn't cause any trouble.

Families started rolling in 10 minutes before it was even supposed to begin. Two of my board members came, and at one point, I'd been deep in conversation and when I looked up, I was overwhelmed to see a HUGE crowd of people happily playing games, talking with the staff, cooing over the dogs- everyone smiling and enjoying themselves.

I have been saying since the first day I began this position that I could turn this camp around in 5 years. It's been three years and the programming, administration, physical property, marketing (and many other areas) are running well, really well. But we are still at 50% capacity. Building relationships is the most time consuming, slowest, most intense piece of this effort, but it is the most important element in our future success. We had significantly more people at Rally Day this year than we did last year or the first year. Today was a great example of how many relationships I've already made and how crucial it is to build a community. I feel very positive about our progress and I'm looking forward to Rally Day 4.

Workers Comp.

"Where do you take the kids when there is an emergency?" -pained voice of my dad when I answered the phone.

My dad was at the pole barn, slipped on some ice, fell and laid on the ice for 15 minutes- his whole body in pain. He thought he had gotten the wind knocked out of him. But the next morning when he woke up, he was having trouble breathing, so he called me.

He fractured two of his ribs, which is painful, but not as bad as I'd feared it could be.

When he went to Urgent Care, he told them he'd hurt himself at home, which, technically, was true as he lives at camp. Except that he was working at the time and so he should have said he was hurt on the job and it would be covered under workers compensation.

But this is my dad we are talking about and he hates anything bureaucratic- he doesn't even have a bank account any more (imagine a pile of cash stacked inside of a Bible with a gun sitting on top of it- that's my father's idea of a bank). He was completely opposed to the idea of workers compensation because he didn't want our insurance premiums to go up. I told him not to worry about the camp budget, it would be fine. I appreciated his looking out for the organization, but x-rays and doctor visits aren't cheap and he shouldn't have to pay for it himself, when clearly it was a safety issue at his place of work.

We argued and argued about this and he was adamant that we not file workers comp, regardless of my logic. So I suggested camp just write a check and cover the expenses- he would be taken care of and the insurance wouldn't be affected. He was okay with that arrangement.

But as I thought about it further, I started thinking about every instance from the past 3 years when I found records of something that was mishandled and thought, "why did they do it this way?" J and I have found piles of old files, most with handwritten notes on scrap paper, most that leave out major details or proper documentation. Over and over again, I have shook my head and wondered how this camp has not been sued, gone bankrupt or been closed due to poor management. We are a business. A business needs to have policies, procedures and operate based on a structure, not the whim of whomever is in charge at the time.

From the moment I became executive director, I have spent an obscene amount of time trying to fix things, straighten things out and get us to where we should be. All of my hard work and we have made little progress forward because we had to come from SO far behind.

When I first began this position, I struggled to make decisions, especially if they didn't make everyone happy. I didn't know what I was doing, didn't have any experience, and there were few policies to guide me. I'd been so excited to work for a small organization after being at the YMCA (which is a huge and complex and has a million levels of management). I wanted to get away from all of the restrictive policies and paperwork and from doing things "because that's how they have to be done". But a business, whether giant like the YMCA or tiny like Camp, needs structure, and so I found every manual, staff handbook, piece of paperwork (all the pieces of my former job I'd found annoying and time consuming), and I spent hours, weeks, months, copying and pasting "Camp" everywhere it said YMCA and creating a structure for this mess of an organization.

And so, against my dad's wishes, I called Urgent Care and fixed the mistake, filed a workers compensation claim and went to bed satisfied that as a leader, not every person will like me, agree with me or be happy with every decision I make. I want to be liked, but more than that, I want to know that I've done my best to be fair, consistent, make decisions based on the common good of the camp, and follow policy. This was a great reminder of that and I am happy with how I handled it.

My First Paper

After quite a lot of whining, sighing deeply and wasting copious amounts of time googling hilarious pictures of animals, I finally wrote my first paper for graduate school.

I hadn't written a paper since I graduated in 2004! I didn't remember how to cite references or how to do a reference page in APA format. It was only a 3 page paper, but I was really nervous.

After staring at a blank screen and psyching myself out for several minutes, I started typing my intro paragraph about how I wished the paper was a blog entry about my dogs. Once I started getting words down, I remembered that I actually like writing and the rest of the paper (including an appropriate introduction) flowed quickly.

I was a little unsure how many references I should have made throughout the paper and how many sources I should have used and if it was graduate level awesomeness, but I figured for the first one, it probably wasn't bad.

When I saw that my grade was posted, I was surprised at the terror and dread I felt as I avoided opening it in fear that the beginning of my advanced education was going to be a difficult and painful process.

So when I got the following comments, I was pleasantly surprised.

Excellent work on your paper, you receive full points. You clearly outline why nonprofits are important, give great examples and help the reader understand by offering more detail. Your paper is organized, logical and well written. On first papers I am very picky (but grade lenient) as I give lots of feedback to make the paper better for the next assignment. I have no additional feedback for you except to continue in this manner. Again, great work.

Not a bad way to begin. Perhaps this isn't going to be as agonizing as I'd feared...

Hoarders...

I used to watch the show "Hoarders" which is absolutely fascinating and horrifying at the same time. When things are out of place or my house is even a little bit messy, it throws me off completely and I am crabby, unable to focus and overwhelmed. If my space is disorganized, my mind feels chaotic. I can't imagine living in a home where stuff (and often garbage) is piled to the ceiling, filling rooms and making a house practically un-inhabitable.

The problem with watching Hoarders on Monday night is that every single Tuesday (for several weeks in a row), I would have a breakdown over a pile or a mess somewhere in the house. It might be dirty dishes in the sink or the storage space in the basement, but I would end up in a panic, yelling at my roommates that we were going to end up on that show.

Eventually my brother said, "what can I do to get you to stop watching that show?" and then he deleted it from our tivo. I haven't watched it since then and I have to admit, I've been much calmer and had far less freak outs (although I still really hate when the house isn't picked up).

When the three of us moved into my house, we didn't have very much stuff and so being organized was easy. It's amazing how much you can accumulate though, and 3 years later, this house is BURSTING. My brother and H are planning to buy a house of their own and have been looking for a few months now. In the meantime, they've been accumulating things they will need (pots and pans, furniture, etc). It's smart of them to do- I had to buy SO much stuff when I first bought the house, so if they can get it now, it will help them avoid spending tons of money all at once. So I'm supportive... in theory.

Except that there is stuff EVERYWHERE. And pretty soon, we aren't going to be able to organize it, so I fear we are verging on crossing the line to chaos.

My mom is moving in March. She is moving out of the 5 story home I grew up in, to a small condo. It has taken her over a year to go through everything, get rid of stuff and get ready for this move. It is going to be such a wonderful change. I can't imagine cleaning, paying electricity bills and caring for a house that size. My house is probably 1/4 the size and sometimes I am overwhelmed. I love that house, but I think she is going to feel so much lighter and freer when she no longer has so much stuff weighing her down.

Downsizing is coming (almost) at the right time fr my brother. She has a beautiful dining room table and chairs, a huge barbecue, and like, a million other things he will need for his house. She also has several things I really need like a new lawnmower and a nice bookshelf. There is also a bunch of our childhood stuff that we both want to keep, although we don't really have a use for (my gorgeous, but enormous doll house for example). Unfortunately, she is moving in March. He is probably not going to be ready to buy a house until the fall. Which means that my house is going to get even more packed with stuff in the next few weeks and I will have to deal with it until the fall.

I'm trying to make some organizational plans, while mentally preparing myself for the piles, boxes and corners piled with stuff. In three and a half months, I'm moving to camp for the summer. And then it will be the fall and (God willing) they will have found a house. So, really, this is temporary. I can tolerate it for 3 months, right?

Punching the Shark

At the training that I recently attended (see January 13 post "Inspired"), one of the topics was "Punch the Shark".

If you are ever in the ocean and a facing a down a shark, you must resist the urge to swim away, and instead, puff yourself up, swim straight towards the incoming shark and punch it in the nose.

The presenter learned that from watching shark week and later, saw an article about a man who had seen the same program, actually did it and saved his own life!

The topic of the presentation wasn't water safety (there aren't any sharks in lakes, although I have seen some big fish and I will attempt to punch them, given the opportunity). The topic was managing staff.

The presenter was making the point- stop avoiding unpleasant situations, instead, turn around and face them head on. Be direct, be intentional in your handling of it, and hopefully if you do those things, you will only have to deal with them once.

For some reason, the idea has really stuck with me. I like to think of myself as a person who deals with things, rather than avoiding them, but as I thought about it, there were several awkward conversations or unpleasant things that I could have been much more direct with last summer and in my daily life.

There are 4 or 5 of my staff from last summer who have already applied for this year, but who I don't think I will re-hire. This is not an organization that just sends out a form letter rejecting their application, and even if it was, after being on staff for a year or more, I think I owe them a conversation. I'm dreading those- they are going to end with tears or anger and I hate both of those things.

I had the first of those conversations last week. Prior to calling him, I actually printed out a picture of a shark to put in front of me. I was determined to be kind, but honest, direct, and not talk around topics or lose my nerve and avoid the negative stuff altogether.

It was uncomfortable and I squirmed around as I spoke, but (quicker than I'd expected) I found my confidence and the conversation went well. No tears, no anger, no confusion. I successfully punched the shark! I'm going to keep practicing and hopefully by the summer, I will be an expert!

Operation Purple

Three summers ago, we were accepted to the Operation Purple program. 100 fully paid campers was a HUGE addition to our summer and the board thought I was incredible. Last summer was our second go around except that instead of being a surprise addition to the budget, it was accounted for and thus, there was a lot more pressure to be accepted.

About 5 years ago, OPC received a grant from the Sierra Club, which fully funded the program and allowed it to double in size. It is a well run program, so when our final payment didn't come in when it was supposed to in September, I was surprised, but not worried. I was trying not to be demanding or difficult- I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize being accepted to the program again, but after months of emails and reassurances, by December, I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold my board back. Every exchange I'd had with OPC (and there had been MANY) was very pleasant, they were very reassuring and I was as wonderfully agreeable as I could be. I was a little concerned about the future of the program, but I applied for summer 2011 like normal and crossed my fingers everything would be okay, as OPC is now a HUGE chunk of my budget.

We eventually received our final payment and I anxiously awaited January 7, when we would receive acceptance letters.

January 7 I got an email asking applicants to be patient as they were pushing it back one week. Yikes! I had heard that line once or twice before.

But on Friday, I got the email I'd been waiting for and we'd once again been accepted. Except that instead of 110 campers, they were offering 50 campers.

I wasn't sure how that was going to go with the board. My board of directors has several very successful, powerful people. As we waited for our final payment, several times, they said, "I'd like to place a phone call and speak with someone at the organization" and each time, I had to talk them out of it, because the OPC staff don't know or care who they are and it wasn't going to do any good for them to use their reputations to "put in a call."

So instead of calling the board right away to let them know if we'd been accepted, I avoided their calls and sent OPC an email asking for more details. They sent me back a very nice email filled with helpful information and several compliments (being nice for several months of waiting obviously was not in vain).

Last year, 63 camps were selected. This year, 100 applied and only 31 were chosen. Camps served 10,000 campers last summer, this year, their goal is 3000. Whoa. Less than half. And we were selected. That is a great accomplishment, a huge compliment, and impressive, even if we are left with a bit of a budget crisis.

Once I had that information, it was a little easier to present to the board. They were very complimentary, although we haven't had a meeting to discuss the financials yet. I'm stressed out and pretty crabby that in recruiting this summer, I am basically starting at -50 kids, so I have a lot of ground to make up. I have some ideas and a few people to contact and possibly one or two tricks up my sleeve, so I'm not panicking yet.

I am hoping for the best and trying to remain confident and faithful that everything will work out.

Grad School...

This is my first real week of assignments for graduate school. I had my books, my laptop, my highlighter and my syllabus and I was prepared to sit down and read the assignments for the week.

Except...

They were, like, super boring.

So...

I drank half (who am I kidding, most of) a bottle of wine and googled "adorable bulldog pictures" instead.

I'm not so sure how this journey into higher learning is going to go. Perhaps tomorrow I will feel more studious...

Masters Degree

So getting my masters degree is going to be hard....

It turns out, there is a prerequisite that you must be smart enough to find your class before you can begin.

For my first semester, I am taking 6 credits to begin and see what I can handle while working full time. I am taking a 4 credit online class and a 2 credit class in person. Wednesday was supposed to be my first day going to that class.

I wasn't sure exactly where I was going because this particular class is not held on the main campus. I get lost a lot and I wasn't sure about traffic, so I left a full hour early. Google maps estimated it as a 20 minute drive, but ever since middle school, I've been the nerd who is super early for class, so I left myself plenty of time.

Traffic was a NIGHTMARE. It was an evening class and I didn't realize I would be going through a messy area of rush-hour. I couldn't believe how slow I was driving. When I finally spotted the building, it was 5 minutes until the beginning of my class. I wanted to be in class at least 10 minutes early, but I would still be on time, so I wasn't panicking.

The building was downtown, which I hate. I HATE downtown. Do you know why I hate downtown?!? Because there is no where to park. I drove around and around and around. And then I was lost, so I re-programmed my GPS, and then drove around and around some more. I couldn't even find an expensive ramp.

When I was 30 minutes late to class and still hadn't found a parking spot, I turned around and drove home. There is no possible way I could walk in to my first day of class 30 minutes late. I decided I would either switch into a different class that wasn't downtown during rush hour, or I would drop it.

I got home and found out the same class was offered online. Perfect. I dropped the class with no problem but couldn't register for the online class. The next day, I called the Registrar who told me I needed permission from the professor.

When I finally got int touch with the professor, he told me if I couldn't register online, it must be full and that I was already behind, so it would be difficult for me even if I could register.

Um...

The class technically started the day before, how behind could I be? And the Registrar told me that the online registration system was instant, and said instant system was showing three open spots. So, I didn't appreciate his attitude. I was polite, but I didn't hold back in my second email, as I outlined my frustration with his first response and request to have him get his act together and give me permission to register (that was what I was thinking but my email was worded much more professionally).

Having been away from school for a few years, I don't feel intimidated or in awe of professors the way I did as a 19 year old. In the 6 years I have been working, I have been yelled at enough to know about customer service and the proper way to respond to a crabby email (this professor did a poor job and if I was a camper parent, I would have lost it on him at this point). Working with a huge variety of people and companies, I have learned to negotiate, to problem solve, to be tough when I need to be, and I've overcome too many issues to just accept his lame answer.

Several emails later, he approved my registration.

Less than a week into the journey into higher education and I'm already hitting bumps. It might be an interesting road ahead...

Inspired

On Tuesday, the camping association group I am education chair of brought a big name speaker to lead a day-long training. In the camping community, he is a ROCK STAR.

I am a terrible driver. I get lost often (even going to places I've been a million times). My car smells like a wet bulldog. So why I was the person to pick him up and drive him an hour and a half to the training, is a mystery.

I borrowed my boyfriend's car, but that made me nervous because it is much nicer than mine. Also, I'm not super comfortable with his GPS. It snowed that morning and traffic was terrible. I spent the entire ride smiling, conversing with one of my idols, but secretly SCREAMING with anxiety inside my head. But we made it to our destination without any problems and having one on one time with him was AWESOME!

He started out as (and still is) a camp director. But now, in addition to that, he travels around the country to camping conferences and private workshops like ours.

It was super interesting to talk to him about his career. He liked leading trainings for staff (me too) and so he signed up to lead one at a camping conference (easy to do). At the end of it, he lied to the group and said, "I do this professionally and will come to your camp and lead a training. Let me know if you are interested." A lot of people were and from there, he was off and running. A few years later, he gets $2500, plus travel expenses for leading a 5 hour training. Whoa.

My ultimate career goal was to be an executive director of a camp. When I accomplished that goal at 26, I wasn't sure what my next step would be. I'm the type of person who always has a list of life goals that I am working towards and once you check, "land dream job" off the list, what's next? For the past three years, it's been, "do dream job well" and since this camp is in so much need of improvement, and I still have so much to learn, I know that I will busy working towards that goal for many years to come.

But it's an interesting prospect to think that at some point down the line, once I get the hang of my job and once I get this camp in order, there is a next step.

I learned so so many things during the training, but even more than that, I was inspired for my future. Did I mention he was a ROCK STAR?!?!

Kids These Days...

I volunteer for a YMCA program that brings 1400 teenagers (8th-12th grade) together in a downtown hotel for 4 days. When people hear me describe it, most often their reaction is to physically recoil and shudder as if you've just described the worst thing they could imagine. It's actually one of my most favorite events of the year and I look forward to it for months in advance. And while you might expect chaos from a situation such as that, it's a phenomenal program that is incredibly well run and there is very little nonsense that occurs.

There is a little nonsense though, and that's where I come in. My role at the conference is as a Hotel Director. There are 6 of us and we staff a room that is open 24 hours a day and deal with any kind of issue you can imagine, from small things like handing out band-aids or directing people where to go, to the major things like health issues or behavior problems.

One of the things that makes the program run as chaos-free as it does is a very clear code-of-conduct. It makes it clear what kids (and adults) can and can't do. One of the strict rules is that the kids (and adults too) are not allowed to go into each others' hotel rooms. From what I've heard, prior to this rule, there were issues with theft, messes, and an overall "hotel party" feel. Since then, the issues have gone down to nearly zero.

So on Saturday night, when we had to send 5 girls home because they were hanging out in each others' room, it was pretty straightforward. They knew the rule and that they would be sent home if they broke it.

I was nice about it. Their director was nice about it. There have been times in my career when an incident occurred and afterwards I knew I could have handled it differently. But this time I actually quite proud of myself for my firm, yet encouraging way I spoke with them. Working with kids is difficult because very situation is completely different and you don't always know what to say. Early on, there were times that it wasn't just that I could have said something better, it was that I probably actually made the situation worse. Now that I have more experience and actually say the right thing, it might be really lame to admit, but I feel a little impressed by the things I hear myself saying.

Which is why, when the last parent came to pick up her child, and she spent 20 minutes yelling at me, I was super annoyed. I have been yelled at by parents more than once. Sometimes I've even deserved it. That was not true this time.

She repeated over and over how embarrassing this would be and while I politely nodded, listened, empathized and said very little (did I mention that being yelled at a lot early on has made me totally awesome at dealing with crabby parents?!), in my head I was thinking, "Don't kill the messenger. If I was you, I'd be yelling this at my kid (the person who made the bad choice), not at the adult that enforced the rule."

Parents who make excuses for their kids make me want to scream. It doesn't do the kid any good- they will grow up without the ability to take responsibility for their actions. What she should have said to her daughter was, "you're not a bad person, but you made a bad choice. Let's have a discussion about what a better choice would have been and how you can make it th next time you are in this situation."

I don't have kids (and if you judge my child rearing ability on my incredibly naughty bulldogs, the outlook for my future offspring is bleak), but I kinda think I'm going to rock at it because I've had years of practice on other people's kids. Until then, I will continue to judge the parents of the kids with whom I work. It seems like a fair trade off since they will most likely be yelling at me as I judge.

First Day of School!

In my last post, I wrote that it had been my ultimate career goal to be an executive camp director, which I accidentally accomplished by the time I was 26. I say "accidentally" because I happened to be in the right place at the right time, rather than actually working my way up and being qualified for the job.

As a person who loves goals and needs to be moving towards something at all times, I decided that the next step should be to get a Masters degree and learn some of the things I probably should have known before I became and executive director. So today I begin my first class towards my masters in non-profit management. It's online, so it's a little less monumental than standing by the door, back-pack on, getting my photo taken on the first day of school, but it's the beginning.

When I was an undergrad, my goal was simply to get a degree and be a college graduate. I wanted to learn and I enjoyed my classes, but I didn't have a specific goal and didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, so the learning was pretty general. This time around, I am in class because I want to gain specific skills and apply the information to my current job. It's not about walking away with a degree, it's about growing and developing my ability.

A Death in the Family

I don't answer staff phone calls at night (especially after 11pm), but when Counselor B called three times in a row, I knew that I needed to answer it and that it wasn't going to be good.

She cried as she told me Counselor N had just called her to let her know Justin had died. A counselor for 2 years, he was one of the best staff I have worked with. He was always focused on the kids, creative, supportive to other staff, and genuinely seemed to enjoy himself in everything at camp. He was killed in a one car accident on Wednesday morning.

I was totally numb as I listened to her cry, as I called the other staff, as I answered phone call after phone call from hysterical staff until 3am. I watched, unable to turn it off, as every staff changed their facebook profile picture to his photo over the course of the next few hours.

I woke up earlier than usual the next morning and felt like I was in a daze as I headed into the office. Business Manager J hugged me and asked how I was. Numb. In disbelief.

I sent out an email to the camper families and then spent the morning answering emails, the phone and calling each of my staff to check in with them. I was blown away by how much response I received. I was overwhelmed by how much emotion people were expressing and how much people came together to express their concern and sadness.

Because Justin lives in another state, far away from us, I decided we needed to have a memorial service and it probably needed to happen as soon as possible to bring my staff together.

By the end of the day, I had a priest and church booked, the service planned, and had pulled all of the photos of him from the summer together into a nice slideshow. The mass was planned for Saturday. I emailed everyone again to let them know, and being that it was less than 48 hours away and scheduled for New Years Day, I wasn't sure how many people would be there, but we were ready.

On the morning of the mass, there were a million details to work out, the weather was making the roads icy, I was unsure of how many people would be there and overall, I was a bit of a mess. But we had 50 people- most of the staff, several campers and families, and it was clear right away that they needed to be together.

Many of the staff and campers wore tie dye. We sang upbeat praise and worship songs and had all of the staff and kids go up to the alter and do the motions for the final song together.

We showed the slideshow, which made people cry, but laugh a lot too. Afterwards, everyone gathered together for snacks and catching up. Eventually it was just the staff left, and we came together for a grape kool-aid toast (Justin's favorite) and then someone suggested a song, and so we circled up and sang and danced with as much spirit as we've ever had.

There were some tears, but overall, the day was fun (if you can say that about a memorial). And at the risk of sounding cliche, I think Justin would have appreciated it, and was probably smiling down over the whole thing.

We are not a fancy camp. And even after three years of hard work and significant improvements, we are still a bit of a mess financially. I still look around sometimes and wonder if I will have a job in the months ahead. But when I give my end of the week speech every Friday before the campers leave, I tell them that they are now part of the "Camp family". The Camp family is made up of 64 years worth of people who have been to camp, and even though it's changed, the community spirit has been the same all along. State of the art facilities and financial stability would be nice, but a community of people who can come together as a family in a time of difficulty is by far the greatest example of excellence I could ever imagine and I am incredibly proud to lead this community.

Christmas Party!

Summer staff begin training as strangers, not really sure of each other, unsure if they belong or if they made the right choice in coming to the woods for three months. By the end of the summer, they have spent 24/7, working, playing, hanging out, supporting each other through frustration and exhaustion, and have developed a bond that is unlike any of their other relationships. They hug and cry and cling to each other- now unsure how they will survive without being surrounded by this new family they've only known for 3 months, but feel so connected to.

In the weeks following camp, I get lots of emails and phone calls as staff adjust back to real life. It's not always easy- their friends and family don't understand what a life changing 3 months they've had and the rest of the staff is spread around the state and country, back to school and their real lives.

By the time Christmas rolls around, most people are back to their normal life and the ache from missing camp has faded.

For the past 2 years, I have hosted a Christmas party/ staff reunion. Both years I have made a big dinner, fabulous dessert and bought the cutest party gifts (last year it was photo flip books and this year was a gingerbread house box filled with a variety of goodies, including an ornament, candy, etc.). I also made several batches of gingerbread and icing so that everyone could make gingerbread houses. It's a lot of work, but I actually really like the planning and whole production of it.

Besides the preparation, my real motivation is the "ah ha" moment I know the majority of the staff will have. They develop such close relationships and then they mount the loss of camp, and by Christmas, they are wondering if it was really as important as they thought it was.

The first three staff arrived early and as I hugged and greeted them, Counselor B burst into tears. She'd flown across the country to be at the party and she just couldn't believe she was back! Each staff member after the first group was greeted by a deafening shout as the door opened and everyone celebrated the latest arrival. It was pure excitement and so fun to stand back and watch. I watched their faces flood with emotion and I could almost see their thoughts as they came together for the first time since the summer.

Halfway through the night, Counselor M leaned over to Counselor H and said, "I can't believe we're all here. It feels like we were never apart." Bingo! THAT is the reason I work so hard to bring them back together. The relationships that are built at camp are unlike any others they have and even months apart doesn't take away the connection. It's an incredible feeling of belonging, of being truly understood and feeling complete. Being able to facilitate the makes my job the greatest in the world.

And that, is truly the reason for the season. Merry Christmas.

Emerging Leader

The American Camping Association has 24 "sections" across the country which provide training and educational opportunities, manage the accreditation process, etc. Last spring, the VP of camp's section asked me to "help out" with the education committee, and that turned into me becoming the chair and joining the board of directors for the section.

One of my earliest memories from my childhood camp experience was along the sidelines of a day camp field. A huge group of kids was playing and while I had zero interest in joining the game, I distinctly remember standing next to the counselor, my arms crossed, thinking, "I don't wanna play, but I would like to be in charge of this." I desperately wanted a taste of the power that comes from holding a clipboard. That feeling never went away, and (even when I resist) I almost always end up in some sort of leadership or organizational position of every activity of which I get involved.

The board of directors is made up of several very experienced, successful camp directors, whose careers I admire and aspire to someday emulate. I am honored to be able to work with and learn from them.

Yesterday, as we reviewed the budget, I was doing my best to follow along and pay attention. But the entire page was filled with column after column of numbers and the only thing I could think of was a song I was making up~ "this is boring, this is boring, blah blah blah, blah blah blah..." And then I remembered I had gum in my purse and got excited. When I reached for the gum, I found a cool pen, and then the song turned into, "cooooooooool pen! Yeah yeah..."

As I sat, singing my song and day dreaming about glitter, all of a sudden, I snapped back into reality, looked around the room at everyone nodding, jotting notes and saying things like, "fiscal year blah blah" and I felt like a little kid who'd just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. I self consciously wondered if anyone noticed how unqualified I was and I was genuinely concerned that I was going to get scolded like a naughty camper. I was relieved to see that no one seemed to notice me disinterest, but I was worried that perhaps I was actually a child, trapped in an adult's body. And then I started to worry that at some point, faking my way through the "grown up things" I don't care about was going to get me in trouble.

The meeting ended and I felt stressed out and worried about my fate as an adult. After the meeting, it was time for the annual celebration of the year for everyone in the section. Committee leaders gave the highlights of the year, the president spoke, and re-accredited camps gave presentations on their successes. Volunteers and board members were recognized with certificates and then, to my surprise, the vice president of the board announced that they would be handing out an award.

I was surprised because, as Education Chair, I'd done a majority of the planning for the event. Earlier, when we had reviewed the schedule of the day, I'd asked her about the award and she'd said, "we aren't giving anything out this year." So when she got up and described the "emerging leadership" award and then announced my name, my mouth dropped open like a pageant winner. I was still stressed out about not being a competent adult and genuinely surprised to be recognized by so many people I admire.

I received a very nice plaque, which, I hope, will inspire me to pay better attention the next time we discuss the budget or anything else I struggle to find interesting. Perhaps this is just the inspiration I need...