For the past 6 summers, I have gone home only once or twice during the May-August camp period. In the early years, it was easy. I had roommates to take care of my house. My friends and family came to camp for visits and I was able to spend my summer soaking in the sun and living peacefully in the woods without a care in the world.
When I started dating 'N' it got a little tougher, but he knew I never came home and he was willing to make a lot of effort to drive up north every few weekends.
Last summer was more difficult- we had moved in together in the fall and it was hard to leave our life for the summer. But last summer, I thought it was my final season of camp, so I soaked in every minute and tried to enjoy it while it lasted.
By the end of last year, I was not ready to give up camp, ready to fight and SO incredibly thankful and excited to be granted another year.
But now I'm here again and it's harder than it has ever been. N and I have a life that I love and I don't want to leave, even for camp. My best friend just moved back to the city and yet, I am stuck in the woods.
I went home this past weekend and tried to squeeze everything I could into 48 hours. N and I went out for sushi for his birthday. I went to Costco, Whole Foods, Trader Joes, the deli, the dog food store, Target, the nail salon, the bank, my office, the cell phone store, over to X's new house, to my brother's new house, birthday lunch and probably a few other places I forgot to mention in this list. It was a whirlwind.
Now I'm back to the woods, but I don't feel refreshed or excited about being back. I mostly just wish I was still at home. It is going to be a long summer if I can't snap myself out of this funk.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Support But Not
When we sent out the email alerting people to camp's struggle, the idea was to try to draw out anyone who might be able to step up and help.
Yesterday, the nun who sent all of the first week kids arrived for family day and spent a solid 10 minutes telling me how important camp is and how she wants to write letters to a bunch of different people to save it. I agree with her- camp is important. And I am trying to be hopeful, rather than cynical, but I am not at all optimistic that there is anyone out there who will save it.
When this week's nurse cornered me and told me I wasn't doing enough to save camp and reminded me how important it was, I once again, nodded and agreed it was important and once again held back so I didn't lash out. Of course camp is important! I love this place more than anyone.
But do the math. We have 67 years worth of alumni- roughly 40,000 people (give or take). So far there have been about 5 people who have really made a fuss about the possibility of us closing. I think a lot of people (probably the majority of our camper families this year) will be really sad if/when it ends. But while they will be sad, they won't care enough to do anything about it.
I was sad, mad, bitter, devastated when I realized that was the case a year ago. But it is what it is. Things end. Even important, good, wonderful, things. This camp was good and even if it ends, it doesn't take away the goodness.
Yesterday, the nun who sent all of the first week kids arrived for family day and spent a solid 10 minutes telling me how important camp is and how she wants to write letters to a bunch of different people to save it. I agree with her- camp is important. And I am trying to be hopeful, rather than cynical, but I am not at all optimistic that there is anyone out there who will save it.
When this week's nurse cornered me and told me I wasn't doing enough to save camp and reminded me how important it was, I once again, nodded and agreed it was important and once again held back so I didn't lash out. Of course camp is important! I love this place more than anyone.
But do the math. We have 67 years worth of alumni- roughly 40,000 people (give or take). So far there have been about 5 people who have really made a fuss about the possibility of us closing. I think a lot of people (probably the majority of our camper families this year) will be really sad if/when it ends. But while they will be sad, they won't care enough to do anything about it.
I was sad, mad, bitter, devastated when I realized that was the case a year ago. But it is what it is. Things end. Even important, good, wonderful, things. This camp was good and even if it ends, it doesn't take away the goodness.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Grieving
My dad died 2.5 years ago. It's been a long, difficult process of learning what it means to grieve. It's a really awful roller coaster except that there aren't highs and lows, it's just all lows, some more terrible, some that aren't as painful.
I don't mean to be so depressing- in the past 2.5 years a LOT of amazing, wonderful, fabulous, joyful things have happened, and overall, my life is exceptionally happy in more ways than I can count. Grief is all consuming at first, but eventually it becomes manageable- just a small obstacle that you can deal with while still being happy and living life to the fullest.
This summer, I am grieving. I recognize it without question and I am crabby that it's back in my life and big and mean and fresh and all of a sudden back to square one to manage. This time it isn't my dad, it is camp. It's weird, because I am here and days are full and happy and kids are running around with big smiles on their faces and I am trying SO hard to live in the moment and not grieve before I have to. Buddhist books and deep breaths and all of my energy to focus just don't seem to be strong enough and I am grieving.
Today was the last day of the first week. About 50 parents arrived with big smiles on their faces and hugs all around. The nun who sends all of these kids this week was on the bus too (she provides a bus for the parents to come up for the parent ceremony). So many campers this week are returners, so I knew a lot of parents. After 7 years, the parent bus rolling up to camp is almost as exciting as the kid bus, and included almost as many hugs and "I'm so glad to see you again" greetings.
Sister had, unbeknownst to me, announced to all of the kids and parents that this was the last year of camp, so all week long, kids were asking about camp closing and the confused counselors were asking me. I answered the kids and staff with, "nothing is official, let's just have fun right now, say a prayer for the future and not worry." For the record, I got sick to my stomach every single time I repeated it.
When the parents arrived, many told me "you can't close down, this place is too amazing" and so I repeated the same line about not knowing the future and "I agree, we are going to do our best."
When my dad died, I got so many nice cards, emails and phone calls of support. But over and over and over again I found myself thanking people, assuring them I was ok and agreeing with them that my dad was an amazing guy and would be missed. I appreciated the support so much, but it took so much effort and was so incredibly gut wrenching to have to respond over and over that I just wanted to curl in a ball and ignore everyone. That's how I felt today.
I hugged every camper and told them I would see them next year, knowing that I probably wouldn't. After watching so many of them grow up over the past 7 years, this time was probably really goodbye.
At the staff meeting, we went through our highs and lows of the week, laughing and sharing stories- our chance to process the week. So many staff told amazing stories that brought the rest of us to tears. Kids including other kids, kids making friends, kids overcoming challenges- this place is amazing. Maybe every camp is like this, but I don't think so. There is something so incredibly amazing about this little camp. The community and the spirit of this place are like no where else in the world.
And so while I laughed and listened to the stories, and fought back tears of pride and happiness, I tried to ignore that sick feeling that comes from grief.
People die. Camps close. Life goes on. But there are no words to describe how difficult it is for those of us left behind. I know the pain will become small and manageable someday. And so I'm trying to live in the moment and enjoy it while it lasts. My dad died suddenly, so there was no time for last minute words or experiences. There have been so many times I wished I could say one last thing or ask one last question and I am so mad that I didn't get a warning. One day he was just gone.
The end of camp won't be sudden, so there is time for those words and questions and experiences, so I am trying really hard to appreciate it without grief getting in the way.
Ugh, this week was tough. I really hope next week is easier.
I don't mean to be so depressing- in the past 2.5 years a LOT of amazing, wonderful, fabulous, joyful things have happened, and overall, my life is exceptionally happy in more ways than I can count. Grief is all consuming at first, but eventually it becomes manageable- just a small obstacle that you can deal with while still being happy and living life to the fullest.
This summer, I am grieving. I recognize it without question and I am crabby that it's back in my life and big and mean and fresh and all of a sudden back to square one to manage. This time it isn't my dad, it is camp. It's weird, because I am here and days are full and happy and kids are running around with big smiles on their faces and I am trying SO hard to live in the moment and not grieve before I have to. Buddhist books and deep breaths and all of my energy to focus just don't seem to be strong enough and I am grieving.
Today was the last day of the first week. About 50 parents arrived with big smiles on their faces and hugs all around. The nun who sends all of these kids this week was on the bus too (she provides a bus for the parents to come up for the parent ceremony). So many campers this week are returners, so I knew a lot of parents. After 7 years, the parent bus rolling up to camp is almost as exciting as the kid bus, and included almost as many hugs and "I'm so glad to see you again" greetings.
Sister had, unbeknownst to me, announced to all of the kids and parents that this was the last year of camp, so all week long, kids were asking about camp closing and the confused counselors were asking me. I answered the kids and staff with, "nothing is official, let's just have fun right now, say a prayer for the future and not worry." For the record, I got sick to my stomach every single time I repeated it.
When the parents arrived, many told me "you can't close down, this place is too amazing" and so I repeated the same line about not knowing the future and "I agree, we are going to do our best."
When my dad died, I got so many nice cards, emails and phone calls of support. But over and over and over again I found myself thanking people, assuring them I was ok and agreeing with them that my dad was an amazing guy and would be missed. I appreciated the support so much, but it took so much effort and was so incredibly gut wrenching to have to respond over and over that I just wanted to curl in a ball and ignore everyone. That's how I felt today.
I hugged every camper and told them I would see them next year, knowing that I probably wouldn't. After watching so many of them grow up over the past 7 years, this time was probably really goodbye.
At the staff meeting, we went through our highs and lows of the week, laughing and sharing stories- our chance to process the week. So many staff told amazing stories that brought the rest of us to tears. Kids including other kids, kids making friends, kids overcoming challenges- this place is amazing. Maybe every camp is like this, but I don't think so. There is something so incredibly amazing about this little camp. The community and the spirit of this place are like no where else in the world.
And so while I laughed and listened to the stories, and fought back tears of pride and happiness, I tried to ignore that sick feeling that comes from grief.
People die. Camps close. Life goes on. But there are no words to describe how difficult it is for those of us left behind. I know the pain will become small and manageable someday. And so I'm trying to live in the moment and enjoy it while it lasts. My dad died suddenly, so there was no time for last minute words or experiences. There have been so many times I wished I could say one last thing or ask one last question and I am so mad that I didn't get a warning. One day he was just gone.
The end of camp won't be sudden, so there is time for those words and questions and experiences, so I am trying really hard to appreciate it without grief getting in the way.
Ugh, this week was tough. I really hope next week is easier.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
I'm Trying...
The plan was to shake off the bad day and go back to happy camp director leading happy kids at beautiful, sunny camp.
Last night was rough. I think I woke up 10 times. Several of those wake ups were the sudden, sit straight up, gasping for breath after a bad dream wake ups. Except I wasn't having bad dreams. I just kept waking up thinking, "what if she loses her kidney?!" and "what if something happens to one of her brothers?!"
By the time I staggered to breakfast at 8:15, I was on the verge of tears and not ready for the day ahead. Luckily at camp, there's no time for crying.
After breakfast, 'A', 'M' and I headed to the mud pit to get it ready. It takes about an hour of digging and sinking your feet in the mud, running the hose, using shovels to mix the dirt to get the mud pit knee deep with deep black, thick, smooth mud. An hour later, the cabins arrived with excitement. They competed in tug-o-war and then, cabin by cabin, kids and counselors jumped into the mud. Some just got their legs muddy and some went head first.
At the end, as we do every week, the kids started chanting my name. I dramatically told them, "no, no, sorry, I am entirely too important and have a lot of business to do, I won't be going in the mud." They chanted some more and I dipped a toe in. They chanted louder and I belly flopped, face first, and then rose out of the mud yelling, "are you satisfied?!" They were.
I hate the mud pit. You get mud in your mouth, nose, eyes and ears. The lake (which is where we go to clean off) is cold, so I usually wimp out and just splash a little water on myself, meaning that my shower is DESTROYED because I do exactly what I don't want the kids to do (can you imagine what the bathroom would look like it we let 80 mud covered kids attempt to strip off mud covered clothing and then wash piles of mud down the drains?). Kids love it and they love seeing me covered in mud. I know that counselors and then the lead staff going into the mud is all part of the experience and so we do it and we do it with gusto. But I hate it.
After I washed off and cleaned up the mud trail through my house and shower, I called my fiance and promptly burst into tears. I hadn't planned on that and while there hasn't been time for crying yet, I actually had a little extra time this morning, so apparently, that is when the tears come.
What if she loses her kidney?! I can't. I can't even think about it. I know that worrying won't help and I'm trying to be zen-like and let go of the feelings, but oh my god, I am so worried. I am sick to my stomach. I am nauseous. In 7 years of camp, every injury or illness was a fluke, just something that can happen despite our rules and procedures and safety practices. Kids trip and fall. Bees exist even when we spray all the hives away. Things happen even with all of our effort. But this was OUR FAULT.
I should never have settled for a nursing student. A registered nurse wouldn't have misread the dose. A registered nurse would have known more about transplants. Yes, being a camp nurse usually means handing out allergy pills to a handful of kids, but I should have never taken for granted the need for a registered nurse. Or I should have checked the medication myself. I would have known we had a kid on anti rejection medication for a kidney transplant. I should have had 'S' ask for specific instructions from the parent when the kid got dropped off at the bus. I should have rushed the kid to the hospital as soon as we knew she had been given too much medication, despite what poison control said... I shoulda, shoulda, shoulda.... I know it doesn't help now. And when I step back and try to be objective, we have a good system in place, and a nursing student is sufficient and it wouldn't make sense for me to try to micro-manage every aspect of camp. But I just feel so incredibly guilty. And as the leader, it all falls back to me, so it is MY fault that this happened. And ohgod, what if she loses her kidney?!
I feel drained. I feel joyless. I feel utterly hopeless and devastated. I desperately want this week to be over. I want her brothers to go home (even though they are the two nicest kids) because I am so afraid something is going to happen to one of them. I want to call the parents and ask how she is, but I am too afraid to face them. It was a simple mistake, but that's just not an acceptable answer to a parent who I promised that their children would be well cared for. Camp isn't fun, it feels scary and dangerous and I am overwhelmed by the responsibility. I have always been aware of the responsibility that weighed on my shoulders. It is why I work so hard at hiring and staff training, and why I am a strict camp director that supervises staff closely and puts a lot of emphasis on risk management. I have never taken the responsibility lightly but this is the first time I don't want it anymore.
I want to go home. I don't want to be in charge of peoples lives. I feel homesick and tired and overwhelmed and I have been hiding (aka- having a pity party) in my house since the mudpit. I have to lifeguard at 4:30, so I can't completely bail out. But I'm wishing I could.
Last night was rough. I think I woke up 10 times. Several of those wake ups were the sudden, sit straight up, gasping for breath after a bad dream wake ups. Except I wasn't having bad dreams. I just kept waking up thinking, "what if she loses her kidney?!" and "what if something happens to one of her brothers?!"
By the time I staggered to breakfast at 8:15, I was on the verge of tears and not ready for the day ahead. Luckily at camp, there's no time for crying.
After breakfast, 'A', 'M' and I headed to the mud pit to get it ready. It takes about an hour of digging and sinking your feet in the mud, running the hose, using shovels to mix the dirt to get the mud pit knee deep with deep black, thick, smooth mud. An hour later, the cabins arrived with excitement. They competed in tug-o-war and then, cabin by cabin, kids and counselors jumped into the mud. Some just got their legs muddy and some went head first.
At the end, as we do every week, the kids started chanting my name. I dramatically told them, "no, no, sorry, I am entirely too important and have a lot of business to do, I won't be going in the mud." They chanted some more and I dipped a toe in. They chanted louder and I belly flopped, face first, and then rose out of the mud yelling, "are you satisfied?!" They were.
I hate the mud pit. You get mud in your mouth, nose, eyes and ears. The lake (which is where we go to clean off) is cold, so I usually wimp out and just splash a little water on myself, meaning that my shower is DESTROYED because I do exactly what I don't want the kids to do (can you imagine what the bathroom would look like it we let 80 mud covered kids attempt to strip off mud covered clothing and then wash piles of mud down the drains?). Kids love it and they love seeing me covered in mud. I know that counselors and then the lead staff going into the mud is all part of the experience and so we do it and we do it with gusto. But I hate it.
After I washed off and cleaned up the mud trail through my house and shower, I called my fiance and promptly burst into tears. I hadn't planned on that and while there hasn't been time for crying yet, I actually had a little extra time this morning, so apparently, that is when the tears come.
What if she loses her kidney?! I can't. I can't even think about it. I know that worrying won't help and I'm trying to be zen-like and let go of the feelings, but oh my god, I am so worried. I am sick to my stomach. I am nauseous. In 7 years of camp, every injury or illness was a fluke, just something that can happen despite our rules and procedures and safety practices. Kids trip and fall. Bees exist even when we spray all the hives away. Things happen even with all of our effort. But this was OUR FAULT.
I should never have settled for a nursing student. A registered nurse wouldn't have misread the dose. A registered nurse would have known more about transplants. Yes, being a camp nurse usually means handing out allergy pills to a handful of kids, but I should have never taken for granted the need for a registered nurse. Or I should have checked the medication myself. I would have known we had a kid on anti rejection medication for a kidney transplant. I should have had 'S' ask for specific instructions from the parent when the kid got dropped off at the bus. I should have rushed the kid to the hospital as soon as we knew she had been given too much medication, despite what poison control said... I shoulda, shoulda, shoulda.... I know it doesn't help now. And when I step back and try to be objective, we have a good system in place, and a nursing student is sufficient and it wouldn't make sense for me to try to micro-manage every aspect of camp. But I just feel so incredibly guilty. And as the leader, it all falls back to me, so it is MY fault that this happened. And ohgod, what if she loses her kidney?!
I feel drained. I feel joyless. I feel utterly hopeless and devastated. I desperately want this week to be over. I want her brothers to go home (even though they are the two nicest kids) because I am so afraid something is going to happen to one of them. I want to call the parents and ask how she is, but I am too afraid to face them. It was a simple mistake, but that's just not an acceptable answer to a parent who I promised that their children would be well cared for. Camp isn't fun, it feels scary and dangerous and I am overwhelmed by the responsibility. I have always been aware of the responsibility that weighed on my shoulders. It is why I work so hard at hiring and staff training, and why I am a strict camp director that supervises staff closely and puts a lot of emphasis on risk management. I have never taken the responsibility lightly but this is the first time I don't want it anymore.
I want to go home. I don't want to be in charge of peoples lives. I feel homesick and tired and overwhelmed and I have been hiding (aka- having a pity party) in my house since the mudpit. I have to lifeguard at 4:30, so I can't completely bail out. But I'm wishing I could.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
The Worst
In 15 years of camp, the past few days have been the worst professional experience of my life. I am drained, stressed out and devastated. And if one more person tells me it isn't my fault or it's not that big of a deal, I am positive I will lose control and kick them in the shin.
This camp has presented me with a variety of challenges over the years, but even at it's worse, when buildings were filled with garbage, when programming was a mess, when everything needed to be fixed, I have always been able to say that risk management and procedures to ensure the kids' safety were a priority. I'm a STICKLER for rules and safety and while there have been a few broken bones, bee stings, cuts and scrapes and such, I have always been able to confidently say that the injuries were due to normal kid behavior and there wasn't anything awry that caused the kids to get hurt. The fact is, kids fall down, they get too competitive in games, and things happen- but I've always been able to say that there wasn't anything we could have done differently to prevent those things from happening. No matter what challenges I faced with camp, I could always say we were safe.
On Sunday night, 'M' came into my house around 10 with a "situation". The nurse (who is not actually a nurse, rather, a nursing student because I couldn't find a nurse for this week) had accidentally given a kid the wrong dose of her medication and had just realized it. The child is a 7 year old girl and she is on 8 different medications, some that are in liquid form and some that are pills. She had a kidney transplant and is on a variety of anti-rejection medications.
We immediately called the nurse hotline, followed by poison control. Both were pretty calm and based on her dosage vs. body weight, they didn't think she was in danger. They told us to follow up with her doctor in the morning.
Monday morning, 'A' called the child's doctor, who said it wasn't an issue but to follow up with the transplant clinic. The camper had slept fine, hadn't vomited, felt just fine, at breakfast and was happily chatting with her cabin mates in the art barn when we finally got in touch with the transplant clinic who told us to get her to the city immediately because she was in grave danger. I asked if we could take her to the local hospital to have the labs done rather than rushing her 3 hours away. The transplant coordinator agreed, but told me that likely she would have to be rushed to the hospital in the city after the labs were completed.
'A' and I calmly got her into the camp van and I turned what is usually a 40 minute drive into a 25 minute drive. If I knew she'd been in danger the night before, I would have called 911 or rushed her to the hospital. I felt like a careless idiot. The camper was confused and a little upset she had to leave camp when she felt fine. We assured her that we just wanted to make sure she was feeling okay and that we would be back to camp soon. The hospital room had a tv, with a remote control that she got to control and as soon as we found the Disney channel, she forgot that she was upset. We were in a hospital room and her blood was drawn within 10 minutes of arrival. And roughly 20 minutes after that, the lab work came back and everything was normal. Relieved doesn't even begin to describe my feeling.
Through all of this, I had spoken to the parents exactly twice. The first call had been to the mother who politely told me "no english" when she answered the phone. She gave me the dad's number, and after a few tries (he didn't have voicemail, so I couldn't leave a message I spoke with him briefly. He spoke some english.
It took a while for the hospital and the transplant team to communicate and come up with a follow up plan, so we were gone until around 12:30. They discharged us but told us we would have to come back the next day for follow up lab work. All three of us were starving, so we made a trip to McDonalds, which kept our little camper happy and content through a bum day of camp.
While the assistant director and I were gone on the first full day of camp, "M" was in charge. Unfortunately, this is one of our biggest weeks, so both 'A' and I were scheduled to help lead activities, but 'M' managed to rearrange. As she was doing that, a 12 year old camper ended up in the health center, vomiting repeatedly. Vomit happens- it's not a crisis, but the nurse (who I had aggressively told to "pull it together and chill out" before I'd left because she was FREAKING OUT), was apparently still pretty freaked out and unable to handle it on her own.
We got back just in time for first afternoon activity period. The puking camper was resting comfortably, the poor 7 year old we'd poisoned was distracted by her happy meal toy and quite eager to go to fishing (and, as it turns out, not poisoned). I got in touch with the mom, this time, with the 14 year old sister translating. I told her what happened and that we'd taken her to the clinic to get checked out and that everything was fine.
Around 4pm, I got another call from the transplant clinic and the transplant team had met and decided the camper needed to be seen. Apparently the labs can come back normal but she could still reject the kidney, have a seizure or a number of other terrible things. The local hospital wasn't able to do the tests they needed done on her and so we were back to full blown crisis. I told her that she needed to get in touch with the parents because this was beyond my ability to make decisions on.
The dad called me an hour later and let me know they were on the way up to get her. I tried to prepare for their wrath- I'm not a parent, but if someone gave my kid the wrong dose of medicine I would LOSE MY MIND in anger. I would not be understanding or kind.
The vomiting kid had woken up and was back to vomiting every cracker and sip of water/7up/gatorade we attempted to give him. His mother was not super concerned, so we all agreed to keep him resting and continue to try to get something in his stomach.
Around 8:30pm, the parents arrived. If looks could kill, the mother would have taken me out in an instant, but the dad was as nice as he could be under the circumstances. He was concerned and said, "she could lose her kidney" as I told him I was so sorry. I explained that it had been a mistake- she read the bottle incorrectly and we'd reacted as soon as we realized it. I tried not to say more than that- there wasn't much else I could say. I had looked at the medication and instructions and it was easy to see how she'd confused the dose. I am not trying to make excuses- it was a terrible mistake. But, other than human error, she was organized, camp has a very good system for medication and I don't know what else we could have done to prevent it. I don't know how often medical professionals make errors- I'm sure more than we realize, and it is terrible. But I don't think there is anything we will change moving forward.
The parents asked to see their other two kids, so I led them to the locker room/shower area where both boys were with their groups getting ready for bed. The parents smiled and said hi to the boys and then were on their way. They were disappointed and obviously concerned, but they didn't scream or threaten me (which I would have done if I'd been in their position) and they didn't take their other kids home. So I guess it went as smooth as it could have, considering the situation.
We got all of the cabins though showers by 10pm and as 'M' and I headed home for the night, we went to check on the Counselors-in-Training. The CITs are 16 and 17 year old campers. During the all camp game, while I was talking with the parents of the kid that camp almost killed, one of the CIT boys had twisted his ankle.
Except that he hadn't just twisted it. It was about twice the size and purple and he couldn't move it at all. I've only been trained in basic first aid, but even I could see it was broken. Back to the ER- two trips in one day is a first for me.
I wanted to cry, but luckily, I just didn't have time. I grabbed my purse, computer (the hospital has wifi, so I figured I could get some work done this time, rather than just reading old magazines like I'd done the first time), and called my fiance to update him on my day.
The CIT who broke his ankle (confirmed by the x-ray when we got to the hospital) has been a camper for 7 years and last year even came back after being a Leader-in-Training to volunteer for a week. He is one of my favorites. When I said he needed to go to the hospital, he said, "will I have to leave camp?" and I said, "if I say your options are 'go to the hospital and get a cast and then leave camp OR stay at camp with a broken ankle, what are you going to do'?" to which he replied, "I could tough it out for the next two weeks." He loves camp and I adore him, and this time around, I wasn't terrified of possibly killing a camper, so the ride to the hospital took the full 45 minutes. Luckily at 11pm at a tiny up north hospital, there aren't any patients, so we were in and out in under an hour.
"What is wrong with this building" were the first words out of my mouth. Property Manager T explained that one of the fridges (luckily the one that just holds leftovers for the staff) had overheated and almost started on fire. Not the end of the world, but the dining hall was sweltering.
It was vomiting kid's 12th birthday, so we did an extra sweaty version of the special birthday march around the dining hall and then sent him back to the health center to revisit his breakfast.
His mother wasn't real excited at the idea of leaving work to make the 6 hour round trip drive, so we agreed to revisit the conversation at lunch, even though it had been 24 hours of puking, which generally means they have to go home.
By noon, she was on her way to camp to pick him up. I had spoken to the nun who sends all of these kids to camp as well as my board president and everyone was still feeling confident in my ability to run a camp.
The sun was out, the kids (and staff) have all settled into camp and are happily enjoying activities. I feel like I've been hit by a train, but as I stood off to the side at the campfire tonight, I looked around at smiling kids eating s'mores, staff who were leading songs and glowing with excitement, the sunset was as phenomenal as ever and I sighed with relief that even though I want to burst into tears and send everyone home, the despair seems to be contained to just me. Which is 100% the way I want it. I will shake off the bad day as long as everyone is still doing fine.
This camp has presented me with a variety of challenges over the years, but even at it's worse, when buildings were filled with garbage, when programming was a mess, when everything needed to be fixed, I have always been able to say that risk management and procedures to ensure the kids' safety were a priority. I'm a STICKLER for rules and safety and while there have been a few broken bones, bee stings, cuts and scrapes and such, I have always been able to confidently say that the injuries were due to normal kid behavior and there wasn't anything awry that caused the kids to get hurt. The fact is, kids fall down, they get too competitive in games, and things happen- but I've always been able to say that there wasn't anything we could have done differently to prevent those things from happening. No matter what challenges I faced with camp, I could always say we were safe.
On Sunday night, 'M' came into my house around 10 with a "situation". The nurse (who is not actually a nurse, rather, a nursing student because I couldn't find a nurse for this week) had accidentally given a kid the wrong dose of her medication and had just realized it. The child is a 7 year old girl and she is on 8 different medications, some that are in liquid form and some that are pills. She had a kidney transplant and is on a variety of anti-rejection medications.
We immediately called the nurse hotline, followed by poison control. Both were pretty calm and based on her dosage vs. body weight, they didn't think she was in danger. They told us to follow up with her doctor in the morning.
Monday morning, 'A' called the child's doctor, who said it wasn't an issue but to follow up with the transplant clinic. The camper had slept fine, hadn't vomited, felt just fine, at breakfast and was happily chatting with her cabin mates in the art barn when we finally got in touch with the transplant clinic who told us to get her to the city immediately because she was in grave danger. I asked if we could take her to the local hospital to have the labs done rather than rushing her 3 hours away. The transplant coordinator agreed, but told me that likely she would have to be rushed to the hospital in the city after the labs were completed.
'A' and I calmly got her into the camp van and I turned what is usually a 40 minute drive into a 25 minute drive. If I knew she'd been in danger the night before, I would have called 911 or rushed her to the hospital. I felt like a careless idiot. The camper was confused and a little upset she had to leave camp when she felt fine. We assured her that we just wanted to make sure she was feeling okay and that we would be back to camp soon. The hospital room had a tv, with a remote control that she got to control and as soon as we found the Disney channel, she forgot that she was upset. We were in a hospital room and her blood was drawn within 10 minutes of arrival. And roughly 20 minutes after that, the lab work came back and everything was normal. Relieved doesn't even begin to describe my feeling.
Through all of this, I had spoken to the parents exactly twice. The first call had been to the mother who politely told me "no english" when she answered the phone. She gave me the dad's number, and after a few tries (he didn't have voicemail, so I couldn't leave a message I spoke with him briefly. He spoke some english.
It took a while for the hospital and the transplant team to communicate and come up with a follow up plan, so we were gone until around 12:30. They discharged us but told us we would have to come back the next day for follow up lab work. All three of us were starving, so we made a trip to McDonalds, which kept our little camper happy and content through a bum day of camp.
While the assistant director and I were gone on the first full day of camp, "M" was in charge. Unfortunately, this is one of our biggest weeks, so both 'A' and I were scheduled to help lead activities, but 'M' managed to rearrange. As she was doing that, a 12 year old camper ended up in the health center, vomiting repeatedly. Vomit happens- it's not a crisis, but the nurse (who I had aggressively told to "pull it together and chill out" before I'd left because she was FREAKING OUT), was apparently still pretty freaked out and unable to handle it on her own.
We got back just in time for first afternoon activity period. The puking camper was resting comfortably, the poor 7 year old we'd poisoned was distracted by her happy meal toy and quite eager to go to fishing (and, as it turns out, not poisoned). I got in touch with the mom, this time, with the 14 year old sister translating. I told her what happened and that we'd taken her to the clinic to get checked out and that everything was fine.
Around 4pm, I got another call from the transplant clinic and the transplant team had met and decided the camper needed to be seen. Apparently the labs can come back normal but she could still reject the kidney, have a seizure or a number of other terrible things. The local hospital wasn't able to do the tests they needed done on her and so we were back to full blown crisis. I told her that she needed to get in touch with the parents because this was beyond my ability to make decisions on.
The dad called me an hour later and let me know they were on the way up to get her. I tried to prepare for their wrath- I'm not a parent, but if someone gave my kid the wrong dose of medicine I would LOSE MY MIND in anger. I would not be understanding or kind.
The vomiting kid had woken up and was back to vomiting every cracker and sip of water/7up/gatorade we attempted to give him. His mother was not super concerned, so we all agreed to keep him resting and continue to try to get something in his stomach.
Around 8:30pm, the parents arrived. If looks could kill, the mother would have taken me out in an instant, but the dad was as nice as he could be under the circumstances. He was concerned and said, "she could lose her kidney" as I told him I was so sorry. I explained that it had been a mistake- she read the bottle incorrectly and we'd reacted as soon as we realized it. I tried not to say more than that- there wasn't much else I could say. I had looked at the medication and instructions and it was easy to see how she'd confused the dose. I am not trying to make excuses- it was a terrible mistake. But, other than human error, she was organized, camp has a very good system for medication and I don't know what else we could have done to prevent it. I don't know how often medical professionals make errors- I'm sure more than we realize, and it is terrible. But I don't think there is anything we will change moving forward.
The parents asked to see their other two kids, so I led them to the locker room/shower area where both boys were with their groups getting ready for bed. The parents smiled and said hi to the boys and then were on their way. They were disappointed and obviously concerned, but they didn't scream or threaten me (which I would have done if I'd been in their position) and they didn't take their other kids home. So I guess it went as smooth as it could have, considering the situation.
We got all of the cabins though showers by 10pm and as 'M' and I headed home for the night, we went to check on the Counselors-in-Training. The CITs are 16 and 17 year old campers. During the all camp game, while I was talking with the parents of the kid that camp almost killed, one of the CIT boys had twisted his ankle.
Except that he hadn't just twisted it. It was about twice the size and purple and he couldn't move it at all. I've only been trained in basic first aid, but even I could see it was broken. Back to the ER- two trips in one day is a first for me.
I wanted to cry, but luckily, I just didn't have time. I grabbed my purse, computer (the hospital has wifi, so I figured I could get some work done this time, rather than just reading old magazines like I'd done the first time), and called my fiance to update him on my day.
The CIT who broke his ankle (confirmed by the x-ray when we got to the hospital) has been a camper for 7 years and last year even came back after being a Leader-in-Training to volunteer for a week. He is one of my favorites. When I said he needed to go to the hospital, he said, "will I have to leave camp?" and I said, "if I say your options are 'go to the hospital and get a cast and then leave camp OR stay at camp with a broken ankle, what are you going to do'?" to which he replied, "I could tough it out for the next two weeks." He loves camp and I adore him, and this time around, I wasn't terrified of possibly killing a camper, so the ride to the hospital took the full 45 minutes. Luckily at 11pm at a tiny up north hospital, there aren't any patients, so we were in and out in under an hour.
The puking camper vomited twice more while we were gone, but by the time we got back at 12:15am, everyone was asleep and the first full day of camp was over.
This morning I woke up, ready for a new day. When I walked into a 100 degree wall of heat in the dining hall, I knew Day 2 wasn't going to be as smooth as I'd hoped.
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"What is wrong with this building" were the first words out of my mouth. Property Manager T explained that one of the fridges (luckily the one that just holds leftovers for the staff) had overheated and almost started on fire. Not the end of the world, but the dining hall was sweltering.
It was vomiting kid's 12th birthday, so we did an extra sweaty version of the special birthday march around the dining hall and then sent him back to the health center to revisit his breakfast.
His mother wasn't real excited at the idea of leaving work to make the 6 hour round trip drive, so we agreed to revisit the conversation at lunch, even though it had been 24 hours of puking, which generally means they have to go home.
By noon, she was on her way to camp to pick him up. I had spoken to the nun who sends all of these kids to camp as well as my board president and everyone was still feeling confident in my ability to run a camp.
The sun was out, the kids (and staff) have all settled into camp and are happily enjoying activities. I feel like I've been hit by a train, but as I stood off to the side at the campfire tonight, I looked around at smiling kids eating s'mores, staff who were leading songs and glowing with excitement, the sunset was as phenomenal as ever and I sighed with relief that even though I want to burst into tears and send everyone home, the despair seems to be contained to just me. Which is 100% the way I want it. I will shake off the bad day as long as everyone is still doing fine.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
First Day of Camp!
Today was the first day of my 7th year at this camp (15th summer of camp overall).
Yesterday, on my first day off in 3 weeks, I cleaned my house, did my laundry, went grocery shopping, cooked a bunch of meals for the week, played with my dogs, did my nails and relaxed. It was productive and restful and I was happy to start the craziness of camp so organized and prepared.
Today was father's day and I was feeling a little bit sad. I wasn't feeling as excited as I thought I would on the first day of camp. I felt a little detached actually.
The staff meeting and pre-camp set up went well. And then I got a phone call saying the bus was going to be late because one of the two buses kept breaking down, so they were waiting for a replacement bus. So, like we mentioned in training, even though we have really organized schedules that we want the staff to stick to, often, other things happen that throw everything off. Flexibility training 101.
And then it started to rain.
However, by the time the bus arrived (only 45 minutes later than usual), the rain had stopped and 85 kids, ages 7-15 poured out of the bus in a LOUD, excited mess. 3/4 of this group are all return campers (some who have been coming since before I was the director), so there was a lot of familiar faces, hugs, and excitement.
The staff learned quickly that the theory of children and the reality of children is MUCH different. In theory, getting a dozen 7 year old boys from one place to another is simple. In reality, it is like herding ferrel kittens and every time you actually manage to get them all together, it is a small miracle.
Kids are louder, slower moving, less cooperative, and altogether more baffling in their choices than you ever expect and some of the staff looked a little like they'd run a marathon by the time they got to opening campfire, but overall, it was a smooth day.
Summer #7!!!
Yesterday, on my first day off in 3 weeks, I cleaned my house, did my laundry, went grocery shopping, cooked a bunch of meals for the week, played with my dogs, did my nails and relaxed. It was productive and restful and I was happy to start the craziness of camp so organized and prepared.
Today was father's day and I was feeling a little bit sad. I wasn't feeling as excited as I thought I would on the first day of camp. I felt a little detached actually.
The staff meeting and pre-camp set up went well. And then I got a phone call saying the bus was going to be late because one of the two buses kept breaking down, so they were waiting for a replacement bus. So, like we mentioned in training, even though we have really organized schedules that we want the staff to stick to, often, other things happen that throw everything off. Flexibility training 101.
And then it started to rain.
However, by the time the bus arrived (only 45 minutes later than usual), the rain had stopped and 85 kids, ages 7-15 poured out of the bus in a LOUD, excited mess. 3/4 of this group are all return campers (some who have been coming since before I was the director), so there was a lot of familiar faces, hugs, and excitement.
The staff learned quickly that the theory of children and the reality of children is MUCH different. In theory, getting a dozen 7 year old boys from one place to another is simple. In reality, it is like herding ferrel kittens and every time you actually manage to get them all together, it is a small miracle.
Kids are louder, slower moving, less cooperative, and altogether more baffling in their choices than you ever expect and some of the staff looked a little like they'd run a marathon by the time they got to opening campfire, but overall, it was a smooth day.
Summer #7!!!
Friday, June 13, 2014
Training Complete!
It's been almost 3 weeks since I had a day off, 13 days straight of training and finally, I'm done! Well, okay, I'm done for about 36 hours, but I will take whatever break I can get!
Staff training concluded today after lunch. Just as we were getting in line to have lunch, the power went out and that was the point when I was physically, mentally, emotionally (and every other possible way) DONE.
I laughed hysterically (in sort of a scary way) for a few minutes and then enjoyed a salad in the dark. Ok, it wasn't dark since the sun was out and it was only noon, but I was feeling a bit dramatic.
We cleaned up all of the training stuff from the dining hall that we'd accumulated in the past weeks and the A, M and I headed to the restaurant/bar for some blended strawberry margaritas. We had a few drinks and then I returned home to take a short nap.
When I talked to my fiance later in the day and told him about my day, he said, "so, you worked until noon, went out for drinks and took a nap? That sounds like a pretty good day to me!" I suppose when you phrase it like that it is tough to complain!
I am super excited for the summer. Camp looks gorgeous, the staff are great, training went well, registration numbers are good. 2014, here we go!
Staff training concluded today after lunch. Just as we were getting in line to have lunch, the power went out and that was the point when I was physically, mentally, emotionally (and every other possible way) DONE.
I laughed hysterically (in sort of a scary way) for a few minutes and then enjoyed a salad in the dark. Ok, it wasn't dark since the sun was out and it was only noon, but I was feeling a bit dramatic.
We cleaned up all of the training stuff from the dining hall that we'd accumulated in the past weeks and the A, M and I headed to the restaurant/bar for some blended strawberry margaritas. We had a few drinks and then I returned home to take a short nap.
When I talked to my fiance later in the day and told him about my day, he said, "so, you worked until noon, went out for drinks and took a nap? That sounds like a pretty good day to me!" I suppose when you phrase it like that it is tough to complain!
I am super excited for the summer. Camp looks gorgeous, the staff are great, training went well, registration numbers are good. 2014, here we go!
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Power Outages
Lifeguard training and the end of pre-camp, followed by CPR/1st aid training, and last Friday- the beginning of staff training have kept me BUSY. I think I forgot (more likely, CHOSE to forget) how intense staff training is.
The staff this summer is great. I feel really confident in them. They are the most religious group I've had in 7 years. Each night when training has ended after 12 hours of nonstop activity, they all gather in the chapel to say the rosary together. So far, it is just the lead staff and I who don't go to evening prayer. I'm glad they still have energy to get together and if that makes them happy, I am glad. but after 12 hours of talking, explaining, and leading them, all I want to do is sit quietly by myself.
The power has gone out multiple times- a few times because it has rained and a few times because it was windy and once for no reason at all. It is so annoying and frustrating and even though everyone rolls with it, I want to SCREAM.
But if that is the worst issue, I can't complain. Camp looks beautiful, the staff are excited and seem to be pretty skilled and life is good.
The staff this summer is great. I feel really confident in them. They are the most religious group I've had in 7 years. Each night when training has ended after 12 hours of nonstop activity, they all gather in the chapel to say the rosary together. So far, it is just the lead staff and I who don't go to evening prayer. I'm glad they still have energy to get together and if that makes them happy, I am glad. but after 12 hours of talking, explaining, and leading them, all I want to do is sit quietly by myself.
The power has gone out multiple times- a few times because it has rained and a few times because it was windy and once for no reason at all. It is so annoying and frustrating and even though everyone rolls with it, I want to SCREAM.
But if that is the worst issue, I can't complain. Camp looks beautiful, the staff are excited and seem to be pretty skilled and life is good.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
Buddhist
I have been sharing my new Buddhist knowledge with all of my friends, family and staff members. I'm not in the least bit educated enough to be quoting Buddhist teaching, but it's not really stopping me. I'm halfway through "Buddhism for Beginners" so that seems sufficient.
I'm actually not sure that my advice is fully based on Buddhist teaching- it's more of a sampler, but it's helping me as I begin this summer of uncertainty. The lesson I have most latched onto has been to allow yourself to fully welcome and experience every feeling and then let it go. Too often, we try to avoid things, ignore/deny our true feelings and end up with a jumble of thoughts and feelings that build up to be a ball of anxiety and stress inside.
The negative things that happen in life aren't an interruption- they are part of the journey. So instead of ignoring them, we need to embrace them, feel the feeling and then move on. It's become my mantra this summer.
I find myself saying, "I feel anxious about the unknown state of camp" or "I feel sad that this is probably the end" and then taking a moment to feel it (even though pain and stress are uncomfortable) and then saying, "okay, I'm letting these feelings go into the universe". I'm trying to accept and take comfort in the fact that life is one big collage made up of a million experiences and each of these things, even the ones I'm not happy about, are going into making me who I am and my life what it is.
I hope I can keep up this calm, peaceful demeanor all summer.
I'm actually not sure that my advice is fully based on Buddhist teaching- it's more of a sampler, but it's helping me as I begin this summer of uncertainty. The lesson I have most latched onto has been to allow yourself to fully welcome and experience every feeling and then let it go. Too often, we try to avoid things, ignore/deny our true feelings and end up with a jumble of thoughts and feelings that build up to be a ball of anxiety and stress inside.
The negative things that happen in life aren't an interruption- they are part of the journey. So instead of ignoring them, we need to embrace them, feel the feeling and then move on. It's become my mantra this summer.
I find myself saying, "I feel anxious about the unknown state of camp" or "I feel sad that this is probably the end" and then taking a moment to feel it (even though pain and stress are uncomfortable) and then saying, "okay, I'm letting these feelings go into the universe". I'm trying to accept and take comfort in the fact that life is one big collage made up of a million experiences and each of these things, even the ones I'm not happy about, are going into making me who I am and my life what it is.
I hope I can keep up this calm, peaceful demeanor all summer.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Diaper Rash
Ridiculous seasonal allergies
Whooping cough
Strep throat
Ear infection
Lyme Disease
Bed bugs
Spider bites
Allergic reaction to mouse poison
Heat exhaustion
Fly bites (resulting in huge swollen lumps)
Acid burns (from a leaking boat battery)
Bee stings
Poison ivy
Infected open sore on my finger
Chiggers
Cold
Flu
Bumps, bruises, scrapes, etc.
This is the list of gross and unfortunate ailments I've survived in 15 years of working at summer camp. I've never listed everything out before and I'm a little creeped out as I review. But disgusting list aside, at this point, I'm pretty much unfazed by whatever germy, unfortunate ailment arises.
And then I got diaper rash.
Since I don't actually wear a diaper, I'm not sure if what I have is technically diaper rash. Also, I'm 32, shower regularly and have no issues in terms of using the restroom. So maybe we shouldn't call it diaper rash. But something resembling diaper rash is happening on my bottom and tonight I baby powdered myself...
I think it's possible, of everything on the list, I've finally hit rock bottom with gross-ness. It might be time to hang up my fanny pack and go get a nice clean office job.
Whooping cough
Strep throat
Ear infection
Lyme Disease
Bed bugs
Spider bites
Allergic reaction to mouse poison
Heat exhaustion
Fly bites (resulting in huge swollen lumps)
Acid burns (from a leaking boat battery)
Bee stings
Poison ivy
Infected open sore on my finger
Chiggers
Cold
Flu
Bumps, bruises, scrapes, etc.
This is the list of gross and unfortunate ailments I've survived in 15 years of working at summer camp. I've never listed everything out before and I'm a little creeped out as I review. But disgusting list aside, at this point, I'm pretty much unfazed by whatever germy, unfortunate ailment arises.
And then I got diaper rash.
Since I don't actually wear a diaper, I'm not sure if what I have is technically diaper rash. Also, I'm 32, shower regularly and have no issues in terms of using the restroom. So maybe we shouldn't call it diaper rash. But something resembling diaper rash is happening on my bottom and tonight I baby powdered myself...
I think it's possible, of everything on the list, I've finally hit rock bottom with gross-ness. It might be time to hang up my fanny pack and go get a nice clean office job.
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Mark Wahlberg
Today was one of those days. The sun was shining and the lake was glistening, but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed (as they say). I was trying to be optimistic and happy and appreciate camp to the fullest, but I was crabby and everything was annoying me.
It is the time of the year that literally overnight, camp goes from mostly bug free to something resembling the rainforest in the Amazon. The mosquitos are so thick it is unbearable.
About 6 months ago, I went "chemical free" in all aspects of my life (cleaning products, toiletries, etc.) I have been making my own shampoo, lotion, deodorant, etc. And so naturally, I made my own bug repellant. It's actually working really well, but coconut oil is the base of it and so I spent the day glistening in oil. Everything I leaned my arm on or brushed against with my leg had oil marks on it. And then by the afternoon, the oil was covered in dirt, making my skin look about 10 shades darker, except that it was just dirt. I was determined to embrace my natural lifestyle so I refused to shower, but I was greasy, dirty, and had a swarm of bugs biting through my clothing and anywhere on me that wasn't oil covered. I was ready to scream in misery and then spray myself in a cloud of chemicals (I didn't do either, but I was really on the verge).
The weather is humid, my dogs were filthy (and covered in bugs), it was too hot to let the dogs go out to play for very long, so they were crabby too. Just overall, kind of miserable.
And then I got this email from my board president-
Ok crazy thought……reading an Esquire article this weekend about Mark Wahlberg. He has his own foundation that gives money to kids for camp. He is also very Catholic. What do we have to lose? Do you have any time to do this grant app?
Let me take a deep breath before I toss this computer at the wall.
1. Thanks for the super wonderful suggestion. Anyone else see a connection between camp closing and your sense of reality and/or practical use of my time?
2. Either you don't understand the amount of work I have on my to do list during pre-camp OR you don't understand the amount of time a grant application takes OR you are being funny right now--- is this an attempt at humor?
3. I happen to love Mark Wahlberg and think he is the most dreamiest of all the dreamy celebrities alive. I would pay full price for a movie ticket just to watch him read the phonebook. And I appreciate him even more now that I know he has a foundation, but really? REALLY? SERIOUSLY?
I looked up his foundation on the off chance it supports obscure tiny camps outside of his home state and while it looks like the foundation does great work, and even factoring in my ridiculously high sense of optimism (often bordering on oblivion), I just don't see this as a helpful suggestion. In fact, I am going to add this email to the pile of other obnoxiously ridiculous, bordering on insulting emails I've received recently, with suggestions such as, "you should have a bake sale" or "have you tried having a fundraiser?"
This camp might have to close earlier than expected when I have a nervous breakdown from dealing with idiotic suggestions.
I appreciate that people want to help, but, like, for real, people need to give me some credit (yes, I have thought of having a fundraiser, thanks for the suggestion) and also, people need to jump into reality (ie- how many baked goods do you think I need to make to save a camp, and what do you think the odds are that Mark Wahlberg is going to give me a grant?)
Maybe all of this will be funny, or even sound more reasonable tomorrow. But for now, I've finally scrubbed off the oil and dirt, the air conditioning is on, the dogs are clean and I am taking deep breaths and trying to shake off the day....
It is the time of the year that literally overnight, camp goes from mostly bug free to something resembling the rainforest in the Amazon. The mosquitos are so thick it is unbearable.
About 6 months ago, I went "chemical free" in all aspects of my life (cleaning products, toiletries, etc.) I have been making my own shampoo, lotion, deodorant, etc. And so naturally, I made my own bug repellant. It's actually working really well, but coconut oil is the base of it and so I spent the day glistening in oil. Everything I leaned my arm on or brushed against with my leg had oil marks on it. And then by the afternoon, the oil was covered in dirt, making my skin look about 10 shades darker, except that it was just dirt. I was determined to embrace my natural lifestyle so I refused to shower, but I was greasy, dirty, and had a swarm of bugs biting through my clothing and anywhere on me that wasn't oil covered. I was ready to scream in misery and then spray myself in a cloud of chemicals (I didn't do either, but I was really on the verge).
The weather is humid, my dogs were filthy (and covered in bugs), it was too hot to let the dogs go out to play for very long, so they were crabby too. Just overall, kind of miserable.
And then I got this email from my board president-
Ok crazy thought……reading an Esquire article this weekend about Mark Wahlberg. He has his own foundation that gives money to kids for camp. He is also very Catholic. What do we have to lose? Do you have any time to do this grant app?
Let me take a deep breath before I toss this computer at the wall.
1. Thanks for the super wonderful suggestion. Anyone else see a connection between camp closing and your sense of reality and/or practical use of my time?
2. Either you don't understand the amount of work I have on my to do list during pre-camp OR you don't understand the amount of time a grant application takes OR you are being funny right now--- is this an attempt at humor?
3. I happen to love Mark Wahlberg and think he is the most dreamiest of all the dreamy celebrities alive. I would pay full price for a movie ticket just to watch him read the phonebook. And I appreciate him even more now that I know he has a foundation, but really? REALLY? SERIOUSLY?
I looked up his foundation on the off chance it supports obscure tiny camps outside of his home state and while it looks like the foundation does great work, and even factoring in my ridiculously high sense of optimism (often bordering on oblivion), I just don't see this as a helpful suggestion. In fact, I am going to add this email to the pile of other obnoxiously ridiculous, bordering on insulting emails I've received recently, with suggestions such as, "you should have a bake sale" or "have you tried having a fundraiser?"
This camp might have to close earlier than expected when I have a nervous breakdown from dealing with idiotic suggestions.
I appreciate that people want to help, but, like, for real, people need to give me some credit (yes, I have thought of having a fundraiser, thanks for the suggestion) and also, people need to jump into reality (ie- how many baked goods do you think I need to make to save a camp, and what do you think the odds are that Mark Wahlberg is going to give me a grant?)
Maybe all of this will be funny, or even sound more reasonable tomorrow. But for now, I've finally scrubbed off the oil and dirt, the air conditioning is on, the dogs are clean and I am taking deep breaths and trying to shake off the day....
Sunday, May 25, 2014
It Takes a Village
My mom was here visiting over the weekend and it was wonderful to have her here. I took her on a tour of camp to show her all of the projects we had completed on work weekend. As we walked through camp, we reminisced about all of the years before this one. My mom has been visiting since the beginning and she is one of just a handful of people who remember what it was like my first year. It's so nice to have people who remember buildings filled with junk, dreary, messy camp.
I wish I had taken photos that first year. I was so embarrassed, but now, as I walked through each building with my mom and organized, labeled shelves with bins of supplies and bright painting welcomed us in, I know the progress we've made, but I wish I had photos to remind me just how far I've come.
As I begin my 7th year, I can't help but feel nostalgic and sentimental over all of the support I've had. I could not have lasted this long without the incredible community around me.
My mom has made multiple trips each year- cleaning my house, bringing me food and the dogs treats, encouraging me, donating money and about a million random items...
My dad, obviously...
My best friend X who visited the very first week of the very first year and was there when the executive director yelled at me for no reason- the first of his jekyl/hyde freak outs. She helped me figure out how to create activity schedules the first year and has visited every year since, even last year with 6 month old twins. She sends me mail, care packages and always knows all of my staff so she can listen to my ridiculous stories with enthusiasm.
My brother who has been to most work weekends and has always had the worst job (digging a hole, in the rain while a bulldog puppy barked at him, etc), who has visited every year, always making an impression on the staff in the shortest amount of time.
So many other friends who have visited, sent letters, listened to my stories, and never forgot about me when I disappeared and stopped answering my phone for 3 months each year.
Many former YMCA co-workers who have willingly given me camp programming, handbooks, financial aid charts and have always taken my calls when I needed advice and guidance.
And of course, my fiance, who has supported me 100%, driving a million miles a summer and never once complaining about my job. Whenever he has a business trip and has to be gone for 3 days, I have a meltdown, whine, cry, complain and go on as if my arm is about to be chopped off. He has never said a word about me running off to the woods every summer.
It's kind of amazing as I think about it- I don't think it is typical to have so many people to come together to support one person's job. I am so lucky. It has been an amazing journey and I am so thankful to everyone who has been part of making this possible for me.
I wish I had taken photos that first year. I was so embarrassed, but now, as I walked through each building with my mom and organized, labeled shelves with bins of supplies and bright painting welcomed us in, I know the progress we've made, but I wish I had photos to remind me just how far I've come.
As I begin my 7th year, I can't help but feel nostalgic and sentimental over all of the support I've had. I could not have lasted this long without the incredible community around me.
My mom has made multiple trips each year- cleaning my house, bringing me food and the dogs treats, encouraging me, donating money and about a million random items...
My dad, obviously...
My best friend X who visited the very first week of the very first year and was there when the executive director yelled at me for no reason- the first of his jekyl/hyde freak outs. She helped me figure out how to create activity schedules the first year and has visited every year since, even last year with 6 month old twins. She sends me mail, care packages and always knows all of my staff so she can listen to my ridiculous stories with enthusiasm.
My brother who has been to most work weekends and has always had the worst job (digging a hole, in the rain while a bulldog puppy barked at him, etc), who has visited every year, always making an impression on the staff in the shortest amount of time.
So many other friends who have visited, sent letters, listened to my stories, and never forgot about me when I disappeared and stopped answering my phone for 3 months each year.
Many former YMCA co-workers who have willingly given me camp programming, handbooks, financial aid charts and have always taken my calls when I needed advice and guidance.
And of course, my fiance, who has supported me 100%, driving a million miles a summer and never once complaining about my job. Whenever he has a business trip and has to be gone for 3 days, I have a meltdown, whine, cry, complain and go on as if my arm is about to be chopped off. He has never said a word about me running off to the woods every summer.
It's kind of amazing as I think about it- I don't think it is typical to have so many people to come together to support one person's job. I am so lucky. It has been an amazing journey and I am so thankful to everyone who has been part of making this possible for me.
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Buddhism
16 years of Catholic school and 7 years running a Catholic camp- this summer I am finally comfortable being honest- I'm not a Catholic. I don't come from a religious family- we went to Catholic schools because they were small community focused classrooms. I got this job because I had a Catholic background, but I accepted the job despite the fact that it was Catholic. I've never really lied- I don't think in 7 years I've ever actually said specifically that I was a practicing Catholic. I am FANTASTIC at vague answers referencing the beauty of the church and wonder of prayer, but I don't think I've ever bold face lied and said, "yep, Catholic, that's me." Sure, the hundred or so tee shirts I own from this camp probably lead one to assume my religious preference and that's definitely been the biggest drawback from this job. I am proud of this camp, but I always worry that people will think I'm Catholic if they find out my job.
I don't have anything against the Catholics necessarily, I just don't share, like, 98% of their beliefs. I'm all for "thou shall not kill" and "thou shall not steal" but pretty much everything else is a little iffy for me.
For many years, I've thought religion just wasn't my thing and that I was just a "nothing" in the religious aspect. I think I believe in God- the world seems a bit too majestic to just chalk it all up to science. But I definitely don't buy that God has a religious preference which has always made it difficult for me to follow a religion that claims to have a monopoly on God.
Religious musings (or my cynicism towards them) could probably be a whole blog in itself. So I won't go into further detail.
Except to say that I recently discovered Buddhism and as my super religious, evangelical staff say, "I'm on fire for it". I've been reading a ton about it and listening to some Buddhism for Beginners ebooks. I feel completely inspired and peaceful and complete. I finally understand (at least to a small degree) what it feels like to be really engaged and committed to a religion. I can imagine going to Buddhist temple every week to hear someone discuss and celebrate the teachings. I can imagine taking my future children to temple and raising them based on this set of beliefs. I can imagine spending time and effort learning more and working harder to live out what I am learning.
Every small thing I learn about it inspires me to want to learn more, to want to be a dedicated follower, to strive to be a more "faithful" person (although I don't think it's called faith in Buddhism). I feel amazing inner peace and greater purpose and my lifelong nearly crippling anxiety responds really well to Buddhist teaching to calm me the F down.
As I face the prospect of leading this camp through a last summer, I can't help but think that this must be similar to loving someone with a terminal illness. I want to make the most of every moment- making sure each minute is filled with joy. And yet, I can't ignore the reality of what is coming and at times it fills me with fear, sadness, and overwhelming dread. It's hard to focus on joy when grief is so palpable. But Buddhism is helping me cope, helping me sort out my thoughts and feelings and make sense of life. I feel strong and stable and generally at peace.
Bring on Catholic summer #7, this time as a Buddhist...
I don't have anything against the Catholics necessarily, I just don't share, like, 98% of their beliefs. I'm all for "thou shall not kill" and "thou shall not steal" but pretty much everything else is a little iffy for me.
For many years, I've thought religion just wasn't my thing and that I was just a "nothing" in the religious aspect. I think I believe in God- the world seems a bit too majestic to just chalk it all up to science. But I definitely don't buy that God has a religious preference which has always made it difficult for me to follow a religion that claims to have a monopoly on God.
Religious musings (or my cynicism towards them) could probably be a whole blog in itself. So I won't go into further detail.
Except to say that I recently discovered Buddhism and as my super religious, evangelical staff say, "I'm on fire for it". I've been reading a ton about it and listening to some Buddhism for Beginners ebooks. I feel completely inspired and peaceful and complete. I finally understand (at least to a small degree) what it feels like to be really engaged and committed to a religion. I can imagine going to Buddhist temple every week to hear someone discuss and celebrate the teachings. I can imagine taking my future children to temple and raising them based on this set of beliefs. I can imagine spending time and effort learning more and working harder to live out what I am learning.
Every small thing I learn about it inspires me to want to learn more, to want to be a dedicated follower, to strive to be a more "faithful" person (although I don't think it's called faith in Buddhism). I feel amazing inner peace and greater purpose and my lifelong nearly crippling anxiety responds really well to Buddhist teaching to calm me the F down.
As I face the prospect of leading this camp through a last summer, I can't help but think that this must be similar to loving someone with a terminal illness. I want to make the most of every moment- making sure each minute is filled with joy. And yet, I can't ignore the reality of what is coming and at times it fills me with fear, sadness, and overwhelming dread. It's hard to focus on joy when grief is so palpable. But Buddhism is helping me cope, helping me sort out my thoughts and feelings and make sense of life. I feel strong and stable and generally at peace.
Bring on Catholic summer #7, this time as a Buddhist...
Monday, May 19, 2014
Support
The email went out letting people know that camp is struggling. And then the email responses came flooding in.
My inbox was full of kind, thoughtful, supportive responses. Some were short and sweet- parents wishing they had a few extra millions to help camp, and some of the emails offered concern for how I was handling it. There were compliments about how I've turned camp around and how camp has changed kids lives. Every email was nicer than the next.
When my dad died, camp sent out an email letting people know and I got a very similar response. I didn't realize how much it would mean to me to have people's support and that just a simple email could give me strength. I appreciated every single email I received and I still have all of them saved in a folder.
But it was also really draining to respond to all of them. "Thank you for your kindness and support..." I wanted to crawl into bed and not deal with any of it.
That's a little bit how I feel with these camp emails. They mean a lot to me, but knowing that a camper is dreaming about being a LIT (in 5 years) or a counselor (in 8 years) or that camp is the one place a kid feels like he belongs and has friends is a little bit crushing. I know camp changes lives- I have been getting extraordinary emails, cards, letters and in person stories for years. Every story brings joy to my heart and makes me swell with pride.
Camp is going to close. It's the right step for the organization and running the foundation is the right next step for me in my life. But it's also going to be agonizing and another experience with profound grief.
Ugh.
My inbox was full of kind, thoughtful, supportive responses. Some were short and sweet- parents wishing they had a few extra millions to help camp, and some of the emails offered concern for how I was handling it. There were compliments about how I've turned camp around and how camp has changed kids lives. Every email was nicer than the next.
When my dad died, camp sent out an email letting people know and I got a very similar response. I didn't realize how much it would mean to me to have people's support and that just a simple email could give me strength. I appreciated every single email I received and I still have all of them saved in a folder.
But it was also really draining to respond to all of them. "Thank you for your kindness and support..." I wanted to crawl into bed and not deal with any of it.
That's a little bit how I feel with these camp emails. They mean a lot to me, but knowing that a camper is dreaming about being a LIT (in 5 years) or a counselor (in 8 years) or that camp is the one place a kid feels like he belongs and has friends is a little bit crushing. I know camp changes lives- I have been getting extraordinary emails, cards, letters and in person stories for years. Every story brings joy to my heart and makes me swell with pride.
Camp is going to close. It's the right step for the organization and running the foundation is the right next step for me in my life. But it's also going to be agonizing and another experience with profound grief.
Ugh.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
The End #2
Last May, I attempted to give 4 months notice to my executive committee because I didn't think I could do this job anymore. They responded by saying they wouldn't replace me, they'd just close camp (see http://sunshineandrainbowdreams.blogspot.com/2013/04/part-2-its-not-you-its-me-except-that.html). By the end of the summer I couldn't bear the thought of camp closing, so I came up with a fabulous presentation to argue to the executive committee to keep it open. They didn't let me give my presentation, instead, they basically shrugged their shoulders and said, "if you're in, we're in" (see http://sunshineandrainbowdreams.blogspot.com/2013/08/fighting-for-camp.html).
I am happy to have had another year and another summer ahead. But by January, it was clear to me that the concerns from last year were still there and we were still running a little camp without any hope. We dropped the price (see http://sunshineandrainbowdreams.blogspot.com/2014/01/hail-mary.html) but I knew it wasn't really the solution that we needed to save camp.
At the beginning of April, Board President J called me to let me know he'd received a cash offer from a gentleman on the lake who wants to purchase the camp property. It didn't upset me as much as I thought it might. I already knew this was probably the last summer.
The executive committee and I met and we all agreed it was time to be done. Twenty years ago (or maybe 30), this camp needed to start making updates to the property. We didn't. So here we are present day with a camp that is old and in need of millions of dollars to bring it up to modern times. We don't have the money, but worse than that, we don't have the board, the volunteers, the alumni or the community support it would take to raise the money. Camp is safe- I wouldn't even consider letting kids or staff be somewhere that was unsafe, but in the next few years, the buildings are going to start falling- it's not "if" it's when. And so we all agreed that if we sell camp now, we can use the assets to create a charitable foundation to send kids to camp and continue on with the mission that we (and 67 years worth of people) have worked so hard for.
It's bittersweet. A lot bitter- I love this place. I can't imagine my life without camp. I know a lot of campers and families that will be heartbroken we won't be here anymore. We have changed a lot of lives.
But this is the best thing. We could probably squeeze a few more years out of camp, but I don't want to end because we HAVE to because someone gets hurt or one of the important buildings falls apart.
This is the email I sent to J- our consultant from a few years ago. I sent it to her after the executive committee meeting. She called me immediately to offer her words of encouragement and support and let me know she thought I was handling it with perspective and poise.
Hi Friend,
I thought the board was going to approve the sale and I would announce the end, but of course, it's never simple with them. There were a few people who want to wait until after the summer, so we decided to hold off on an official decision. Who knows- maybe there will be a miracle. I doubt it, but after my initial frustration at their inability to DO anything, I realized it is probably better to go into the summer with people knowing the end is possible, but without a sense of doom hanging over everything.
So I sent this email to her the next day-
As you know from our conversations in the past few days, the executive committee and I met and decided that selling camp and creating a foundation was the best decision for our organization moving forward.
Then I sent this email to everyone on the newsletter list.
CAMP families, alumni, staff and friends,
And then this one to my family and friends-
Hi Friends,
And then I realized that I should let everyone know that it's not common knowledge and if they visit, not to bring it up with the staff.
Hey Inner Circle,
So now everyone is in the loop and I'm ready to focus on the summer.
I am happy to have had another year and another summer ahead. But by January, it was clear to me that the concerns from last year were still there and we were still running a little camp without any hope. We dropped the price (see http://sunshineandrainbowdreams.blogspot.com/2014/01/hail-mary.html) but I knew it wasn't really the solution that we needed to save camp.
At the beginning of April, Board President J called me to let me know he'd received a cash offer from a gentleman on the lake who wants to purchase the camp property. It didn't upset me as much as I thought it might. I already knew this was probably the last summer.
The executive committee and I met and we all agreed it was time to be done. Twenty years ago (or maybe 30), this camp needed to start making updates to the property. We didn't. So here we are present day with a camp that is old and in need of millions of dollars to bring it up to modern times. We don't have the money, but worse than that, we don't have the board, the volunteers, the alumni or the community support it would take to raise the money. Camp is safe- I wouldn't even consider letting kids or staff be somewhere that was unsafe, but in the next few years, the buildings are going to start falling- it's not "if" it's when. And so we all agreed that if we sell camp now, we can use the assets to create a charitable foundation to send kids to camp and continue on with the mission that we (and 67 years worth of people) have worked so hard for.
It's bittersweet. A lot bitter- I love this place. I can't imagine my life without camp. I know a lot of campers and families that will be heartbroken we won't be here anymore. We have changed a lot of lives.
But this is the best thing. We could probably squeeze a few more years out of camp, but I don't want to end because we HAVE to because someone gets hurt or one of the important buildings falls apart.
This is the email I sent to J- our consultant from a few years ago. I sent it to her after the executive committee meeting. She called me immediately to offer her words of encouragement and support and let me know she thought I was handling it with perspective and poise.
Hi Friend,
I wanted to keep you up to date on the latest in camp news.
J, M, T and I met yesterday. J received a $1.6 million cash offer to purchase camp a few weeks ago. The gentleman who made the offer lives in town and has plans to build "clustered housing" on the property.
The four of us agree that moving forward with the sale of the property and using the assets to create a foundation is the best way to go. Tomorrow the entire board will meet to vote, but I don't see anything different happening.
A few thoughts- camp has been squeaking by on a shoestring budget and luck for the entire 67 years, and has been on borrowed time for at least the last 10 years. We've done a lot of good work in that time and I feel good about it.
There might still be a few years left in the camp, but the reality is, it's not a question of "if" rather a matter of "when" the buildings start to fall over. We need $5 million to get the buildings to where they need to be, and even if we had that, we don't have an infrastructure to fundraise the money we need to run camp every year.
My biggest concern is that with an aging camp, someone is going to get hurt. Beyond my desire for everyone's safety, I also know that if we run camp until we are bankrupt, when it is over, it's over and that's just so final.
With a foundation, we can continue the work that 67 years of people have put so much effort into providing. We can send kids to camp. We can continue providing the life changing experience to kids.
I am sad that I won't be leading the programming that makes that change, but I know I can still be involved with camps and I am excited to take on the new adventure of the foundation. J and M have also been so thoughtful and kind to hold off the sale until after my wedding, so this won't actually happen until October. So not only do we have one final summer to make memories, but we are going to have the wedding of all weddings to say goodbye to camp with a bang!
I'm sure there will be more to add to this story as more people find out the news, but I wanted to make sure you were one of the first to know.
I thought the board was going to approve the sale and I would announce the end, but of course, it's never simple with them. There were a few people who want to wait until after the summer, so we decided to hold off on an official decision. Who knows- maybe there will be a miracle. I doubt it, but after my initial frustration at their inability to DO anything, I realized it is probably better to go into the summer with people knowing the end is possible, but without a sense of doom hanging over everything.
So I sent this email to her the next day-
As you know from our conversations in the past few days, the executive committee and I met and decided that selling camp and creating a foundation was the best decision for our organization moving forward.
Today the entire board met and I had expected that decision would be finalized, but the camp board always keeps me on my toes, so I wanted to update you with where we are at.
Several members of the board felt VERY strongly that camp needs to remain open. They feel strongly that there's money out there, that we can recruit more campers and that everything will be fine. As you know, I am the most optimistic person about camp, sometimes to a fault. I have never let my hope for this camp waiver. I love this place more than I can possibly say (my dad's ashes are spread here, my wedding is set for here, I don't know if I could love a place more). And yet, I found myself frustrated at the conversation.
We have had the same conversation more times than I can count over the past 7 years I've been here (and they were having it well before me). We don't have the means to raise the money we need to operate. We've done everything we can to recruit campers and yet every year, the numbers are lower. And the fact is, all emotion aside, this camp is done. I am the most emotional, most attached person to this camp and I would gladly agree to be the director forever, so for me to say that- well, I'm not usually the reasonable, logical, business minded leader in the crowd.
Anyway, the board decided to wait to make a decision until August. If we can somehow find $150,000 to pay off the loan we have (that is due in September), we will stay open. If not, we will close. I wanted to bash my head against a wall when that decision was made. If we have the means to raise $150,000 in 3 months, WHY haven't we done it yet? What is going to be different in 3 months? I just wanted to shake them all and say, "rip off the bandaid, it's going to happen and prolonging it just makes it worse! If this place is going to die, I want to start grieving NOW."
I must have made a face (hard to believe, right?!) because J asked me to walk him out to his car at the end of the meeting. He told me that we need to give everyone time to get there and, barring some miracle, we'll announce the closing in August.
So basically, nothing has changed, but we're not making anything official yet. I just sent him a first draft of an email that will go out to the families and everyone else. I was adamant that even if we don't make anything official, we needed to give me a heads up of the challenges so that we didn't just surprise everyone in August with "oh by the way, that was it, we're closing now". So I guess we are beginning the process while not quite giving up hope for a miracle.
I'm not exactly sure how we will present this to the summer staff or campers. I don't know how to be optimistic and realistic at the same time.
So that's where we are at. If you know anyone with a few million dollars laying around, now is the time to give them a call.
Email or call me with questions.
I'm off to camp! Regardless of anything else, summer is here, it's gonna be AWESOME and I am pumped to head to the woods!
Then I sent this email to everyone on the newsletter list.
CAMP families, alumni, staff and friends,
As we head into summer 2014 I am excited to share with you that CAMP's 67th summer is looking like it will be the best yet. We have an amazing staff in place, have made great updates at work weekend and camper enrollment is higher than last year at this time. We have received great support from the Catholic Parents Club and have increased fundraising efforts since the fall.
However, CAMP is facing many challenges that concern the board and all who have worked so hard for the past 67 years. The buildings are aging and in need of repairs/ replacement at an estimated cost of around $3 million. Despite increasing enrollment this year, overall registration is down and fundraising is not where it needs to be to maintain the organization.
The board of directors and I have had several difficult conversations about the future of CAMP and we are exploring all of our options as we look beyond this summer. It is our goal to continue the vision of Father JS, although we are unsure of what form that may take. Likely it will not be in the traditional camp model we have followed for 67 years.
We feel it is important to make you aware of our uncertain future so that anyone who is interested can give their opinion and feedback before camp ends in August. Please feel free to email or call me with any questions or suggestions for the future of CAMP.
We are excited and confident about summer 2014 and I look forward to seeing our return campers, meeting our new campers and reconnecting with so many of you who visit. We are going to make this summer our best yet.
Please keep CAMP in your prayers as we gear up for the summer!
And then this one to my family and friends-
Hi Friends,
I just sent off an email announcing the uncertain future of CAMP. Already I've gotten several sad emails and I was a little surprised at how many people have also kindly expressed their personal concern for me. I wanted to send you a quick follow up email so you know I'm not in the fetal position or having a nervous breakdown.
The email that I sent didn't include the information that a few weeks ago a gentleman approached the board with a cash offer to purchase CAMP. The board and I have met several times and we agree that now is a good time to sell, use the assets to create a foundation and continue to send kids to camp. The mission will live on and 67 years of changing lives will continue.
This camp has been "the little camp that could" since it began in 1947 and has been struggling since before I started 7 years ago. The bigger issue is that our buildings are old, getting older and unfortunately haven't been maintained in the way they should be. My dad and I arrived 7 years ago to a camp that was crumbling and while we did our best to update building by building, maintenance should have started 30 years (or more ago). To get this property to where it needs to be, would take millions of dollars and we just don't have the board, the community, the budget or the means to take that on.
My biggest concern has always and will always be making sure that everyone is safe and I think that in the next few years, that will become an issue. We are fine now, but what happens when we face the choice between running an unsafe camp and closing down?
The board and I agree the offer to purchase the property is coming at the right time and we are eager to create a foundation that will send kids to camp. We don't have the details worked out yet, but they have asked me to run it and I think it is a great opportunity to continue working in camping and continue to change lives. It is bittersweet- of course I want to be the one leading the songs and games, hanging out with the kids and planning the programming, but I think I will still have opportunities to be involved in a hands on camp programming in different ways.
The board didn't want the message to parents and campers to be so final and who knows- maybe there will be a miracle donation of a few million dollars- crazier things have happened at CAMP! It is very bittersweet but it's not all bad.
They have also been clear that if/when we sell, they will wait until after the wedding in October, so no worries with that!
I am super excited for the summer ahead and I feel good about the future even though it is uncertain. Liv, Grif and I moved to camp yesterday and we are enjoying our lives of luxury in our beautiful camper in the woods.
And then I realized that I should let everyone know that it's not common knowledge and if they visit, not to bring it up with the staff.
Hey Inner Circle,
A and I had a good conversation today about how to approach the news of camp with our staff. You all know that camp is being sold, but that is not the information that went out to the whole newsletter list and it is not the information we will be sharing with the staff.
We think the best way to stay excited, motivated, focused on a positive camp experience for kids, as well as keeping the overall staff morale high is to make people aware of the potential (as the email did) and then leave it at that. We are not sharing the information that camp has a buyer- it is likely it will happen, but nothing is set in stone yet and it's not necessary to upset anyone without full details.
I am telling you all of this because you are the folks who will likely visit camp this summer and I would ask you to refrain from talking with the staff about the situation. In staff training we will address the challenges camp is facing and that the board is having difficult conversations about what to do about the future. And from there we will not be discussing it. More specifically T and the new Program Director W will not be aware of the full details, so please do not ask them about it or bring it up (nor will any of the counselors or other staff, but T and W are the people most likely to talk with guests).
A, M and I have an important job of making this summer phenomenal, keeping everyone focused on the kids, changing lives and working hard. We don't need to dwell on the future or worry about anything dramatic.
Thanks for your help!! Please come visit us often!!
Monday, May 5, 2014
Events!
This past weekend was "Work Weekend". For the first time in 3 years, the weather was nice (not snowing, sleeting or down pouring... or all three of those). We had 70 volunteers at camp, remodeling the bathrooms, building low ropes implements, cleaning, raking, cutting fire wood and all kinds of other little projects. It was wonderful to see camp transform from a frozen, empty place, to sunny, welcoming, and filled with noise. Summer is here...
Last weekend was a fundraising event that I planned on a whim. We haven't had a fundraiser event since I've been here but I decided we should probably try one out. One of our most dedicated volunteers suggested I come to his church's trivia night because it would be the perfect fundraiser for camp. Teams of 8 people competed in rounds of trivia (10 questions each on a variety of subjects). Each participant paid $20 to enter. We provided snacks and soda, and the event was BYOB.
We also had a silent auction (another whim, another- "eh, we'll see what happens"). I was very happy with the donations we received and I was amazed that it was easier than I'd expected to collect items.
Both events were successful, super fun, filled with wonderful people who love me and love camp. Few camp families or alumni were involved and it reminded me that we do not have the community of support that we should have for a 67 year old camp. It makes me grateful to my friends, family and friends of camp who are always supportive, but also frustrated that this organization just doesn't have the infrastructure needed to sustain it.
Last weekend was a fundraising event that I planned on a whim. We haven't had a fundraiser event since I've been here but I decided we should probably try one out. One of our most dedicated volunteers suggested I come to his church's trivia night because it would be the perfect fundraiser for camp. Teams of 8 people competed in rounds of trivia (10 questions each on a variety of subjects). Each participant paid $20 to enter. We provided snacks and soda, and the event was BYOB.
We also had a silent auction (another whim, another- "eh, we'll see what happens"). I was very happy with the donations we received and I was amazed that it was easier than I'd expected to collect items.
Both events were successful, super fun, filled with wonderful people who love me and love camp. Few camp families or alumni were involved and it reminded me that we do not have the community of support that we should have for a 67 year old camp. It makes me grateful to my friends, family and friends of camp who are always supportive, but also frustrated that this organization just doesn't have the infrastructure needed to sustain it.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
We've Come A Long Way
In 2008, my first summer at this camp, I started the Leader-inTraining program. I had run teen programs for the YMCA in my previous job and I was eager to bring that experience into camp.
I imagined that our campers would grow up through their years at camp aspiring to be LITs- a program I hoped would be elite and fabulous. Eventually, all of my staff would be former campers- trained as LITs and the best staff ever by the time they were old enough to be counselors.
It was a successful first summer and I was proud of the program.
In 2009, I added a second level to the program- Counselors in Training. I also created the Treehouse Lounge- an exclusive hang out for teens only. Campers weren't allowed in it, neither were the counselors- just the teens. The "treehouse" part of the lounge was just a cool name. The literal title of it should have been "random dirty furniture thrown together in a somewhat less cluttered corner of a storage building" but that didn't quite have the ring to it I was going for.
It was in a centrally located building, with windows that were slightly higher than eye level, which meant that campers could see inside, but not all the way. And since only SOME people were allowed inside, it was mysterious and alluring.
My hope was that by making it exclusive, it would be something that made the program even more of a draw for kids as the grew up. My fear was that the actual participants were going to think it was lame and that the word would get out.
I stocked the refrigerator with a few free snacks from the camp store; I made it a point to let the rest of the staff (besides the teen coordinator) know that they were NOT allowed inside, and that was all it took- the teens were hooked. And once they started bragging about the exclusive hang out, every single camper (and a few of the staff) were filled with envy.
Camper T had been coming to camp since he was 7 (summer 2009, he had just completed 9th grade- his last year asa a camper). Camper T was a typical "cool guy". He had a group of bros that hung out with him and signed up for all of the same activities he did. If he was excited about an all camp activity, so were they. He had a big afro, cool clothes, knew all about sports. Super cool.
When he found out about the Lounge, he approached me to talk. I didn't know what he was going to say, but, completely serious, he asked, "will that still be here next year?"
It was that moment that I knew I had succeeded. If "cool guy" was bought in, I knew I had done it. I was quite proud of myself.
And today, five years later, I hired that cool guy to be a camp counselor. I did my best to hide the fact that I was bursting with pride as I interviewed him. Before we began, I think I was more nervous than he was, silently willing him to do a good job so I could hire him.
He's not the first of my former LITs or campers that I have hired. I've been hiring "my kids" for a few years now. But it's still kind of a fabulous feeling every time one of them comes back to be a staff member. That was my dream when I started the teen programs and dragged furniture across camp to make the Treehouse Lounge. And now, here they are, my dream staff members.
I imagined that our campers would grow up through their years at camp aspiring to be LITs- a program I hoped would be elite and fabulous. Eventually, all of my staff would be former campers- trained as LITs and the best staff ever by the time they were old enough to be counselors.
It was a successful first summer and I was proud of the program.
In 2009, I added a second level to the program- Counselors in Training. I also created the Treehouse Lounge- an exclusive hang out for teens only. Campers weren't allowed in it, neither were the counselors- just the teens. The "treehouse" part of the lounge was just a cool name. The literal title of it should have been "random dirty furniture thrown together in a somewhat less cluttered corner of a storage building" but that didn't quite have the ring to it I was going for.
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| The Treehouse Lounge (circa 2009) |
It was in a centrally located building, with windows that were slightly higher than eye level, which meant that campers could see inside, but not all the way. And since only SOME people were allowed inside, it was mysterious and alluring.
My hope was that by making it exclusive, it would be something that made the program even more of a draw for kids as the grew up. My fear was that the actual participants were going to think it was lame and that the word would get out.
I stocked the refrigerator with a few free snacks from the camp store; I made it a point to let the rest of the staff (besides the teen coordinator) know that they were NOT allowed inside, and that was all it took- the teens were hooked. And once they started bragging about the exclusive hang out, every single camper (and a few of the staff) were filled with envy.
Camper T had been coming to camp since he was 7 (summer 2009, he had just completed 9th grade- his last year asa a camper). Camper T was a typical "cool guy". He had a group of bros that hung out with him and signed up for all of the same activities he did. If he was excited about an all camp activity, so were they. He had a big afro, cool clothes, knew all about sports. Super cool.
When he found out about the Lounge, he approached me to talk. I didn't know what he was going to say, but, completely serious, he asked, "will that still be here next year?"
It was that moment that I knew I had succeeded. If "cool guy" was bought in, I knew I had done it. I was quite proud of myself.
And today, five years later, I hired that cool guy to be a camp counselor. I did my best to hide the fact that I was bursting with pride as I interviewed him. Before we began, I think I was more nervous than he was, silently willing him to do a good job so I could hire him.
He's not the first of my former LITs or campers that I have hired. I've been hiring "my kids" for a few years now. But it's still kind of a fabulous feeling every time one of them comes back to be a staff member. That was my dream when I started the teen programs and dragged furniture across camp to make the Treehouse Lounge. And now, here they are, my dream staff members.
Saturday, April 12, 2014
I'm a Presenter
Last week, at the local American Camp Association spring education event, I presented, "No Money, No Problem- Camp Programming on Budget" and yesterday, I presented at the Midstates Camping Conference.
I was super nervous last week because, while I have presented a million staff training sessions and I enjoy being in front of a crowd, I wasn't sure if I was really qualified to stand in front of a bunch of other camp directors (some with YEARS more experience than me) and say, "listen to me, I know a lot of stuff you don't." But I met with a camp director friend the night before to go over the general outline and she told me I had some original ideas and good topics, so I felt better after that.
Last week went well, but it was really the practice for today. And today ROCKED. The room was kind of small, and by the start time it was PACKED- wall to wall, people sitting on the floor, crammed in. But despite being jammed together, as I looked out at my crowd, everyone was totally engaged, listening, taking notes and asking me good questions. I didn't see anyone bored looking, texting and no one got up to leave early.
Afterwards, I got several great compliments and three different people told me it was the best session they'd been to so far.
So now I can say I'm an official presenter. Yay.
I was super nervous last week because, while I have presented a million staff training sessions and I enjoy being in front of a crowd, I wasn't sure if I was really qualified to stand in front of a bunch of other camp directors (some with YEARS more experience than me) and say, "listen to me, I know a lot of stuff you don't." But I met with a camp director friend the night before to go over the general outline and she told me I had some original ideas and good topics, so I felt better after that.
Last week went well, but it was really the practice for today. And today ROCKED. The room was kind of small, and by the start time it was PACKED- wall to wall, people sitting on the floor, crammed in. But despite being jammed together, as I looked out at my crowd, everyone was totally engaged, listening, taking notes and asking me good questions. I didn't see anyone bored looking, texting and no one got up to leave early.
Afterwards, I got several great compliments and three different people told me it was the best session they'd been to so far.
So now I can say I'm an official presenter. Yay.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Hail Mary
Hail Mary... Not as in "full of grace, the Lord is with thee" but as in "a Hail Mary pass is a very long forward pas in American football, made in desperation with only a small chance of success, especially at or near the end of a half." -Wikipedia
After weeks of sleepless nights and increasing anxiety, I met with the executive board committee last week for what I can only describe as my Hail Mary move at camp.
Camp tuition for 2014 is around $500 for a one week session. Compared to similar resident camps in the area, it is a very average price. The problem is that this camp is not competing with other resident camps, we are competing with other religious summer programs. And unfortunately, those programs average $250-$400.
I've been passionately optimistic for may years now- convinced that this would be the year that recruiting would snowball. But year after year, that just hasn't been the case. I think there are a lot of reasons for the lack of success- we're a niche market to begin with and without being part of the religious community, we are even more limited. A difficult past, a struggling economy, a changing industry... there are many reasons why, despite a lot of hard work and some real progress, we still haven't seen the growth we need.
I haven't given up- I plan to visit schools, call parents, distribute marketing materials, and try my hardest to get as many campers as I can. But I'm not optimistic. I don't think this year will be different than last year or the year before that or the year before that.
And so I came up with a Hail Mary move that might work... although if it doesn't work, it might be the final blow to my little camp. But the truth is, I am 100% at the point of feeling like, let's do this well or let's crash and burn, but we have to stop just hanging on by a thread.
I suggested to the committee that we drastically slash the price. It seems a little crazy considering that bringing in enough money is our number one problem. But maybe if it's cheaper we can draw in more kids. We could increase our number of campers by almost 25% without actually increasing the number of staff.
The executive committee agreed with my suggestion but all of us agreed that this is it- if it works, great, we'll keep going. If it doesn't, that's it- camp is over. I am surprisingly at peace with the situation. I am 50/50 whether I think it will work, but it's totally different than anything else we've tried, so I guess it's our best shot.
After weeks of sleepless nights and increasing anxiety, I met with the executive board committee last week for what I can only describe as my Hail Mary move at camp.
Camp tuition for 2014 is around $500 for a one week session. Compared to similar resident camps in the area, it is a very average price. The problem is that this camp is not competing with other resident camps, we are competing with other religious summer programs. And unfortunately, those programs average $250-$400.
I've been passionately optimistic for may years now- convinced that this would be the year that recruiting would snowball. But year after year, that just hasn't been the case. I think there are a lot of reasons for the lack of success- we're a niche market to begin with and without being part of the religious community, we are even more limited. A difficult past, a struggling economy, a changing industry... there are many reasons why, despite a lot of hard work and some real progress, we still haven't seen the growth we need.
I haven't given up- I plan to visit schools, call parents, distribute marketing materials, and try my hardest to get as many campers as I can. But I'm not optimistic. I don't think this year will be different than last year or the year before that or the year before that.
And so I came up with a Hail Mary move that might work... although if it doesn't work, it might be the final blow to my little camp. But the truth is, I am 100% at the point of feeling like, let's do this well or let's crash and burn, but we have to stop just hanging on by a thread.
I suggested to the committee that we drastically slash the price. It seems a little crazy considering that bringing in enough money is our number one problem. But maybe if it's cheaper we can draw in more kids. We could increase our number of campers by almost 25% without actually increasing the number of staff.
The executive committee agreed with my suggestion but all of us agreed that this is it- if it works, great, we'll keep going. If it doesn't, that's it- camp is over. I am surprisingly at peace with the situation. I am 50/50 whether I think it will work, but it's totally different than anything else we've tried, so I guess it's our best shot.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Camp Counselor
At the end of the summer, I headed off to college. When asked if I would return for another summer, I confidentially said no. The following summer I would be getting a "real" job. Something serious that would help me in my future career.
Except that the following summer, I was offered a promotion to arts and crafts specialist and how could I refuse that? I got to teach arts and crafts- pretty much the most important job at camp. Plus, specialist was a much more prestigious position, so I was clearly moving up in the world.
That summer ended, and once again, it was my last summer. My "last summer" of camp went on for 4 more years after that until I got a full time job as a camp director.
13 years later, I am the executive director of a camp. The wooden name plate on my desk reads "Master of Fun". Over the years, I have trained and directly supervised over 150 summer staff and been the director at two different camps (three different camps if you include my time as assistant director at my first camp).
And now, it's time to take a step back...
This afternoon I will get on an airplane and head to a new camp to be a camp counselor for a week! I am more qualified than the last time I counseled, but I am also a bit more uptight. I am used to being in charge, making the rules and schedule, having an office and a private house to retreat to. I have never actually been an overnight camp counselor, and as a VERY strong introvert, I'm not sure how it will go, but I am excited to try.
At the end of last summer, I said to the lead staff, "if all I had to worry about was teaching arts and crafts and getting kids from one place to another on time, I would be in heaven." Camp counselors have a tough job, but a fun one, and I wished they would stop complaining. I was sick of listening to laughter and seeing the sun shining out my window, but being stuck inside answering emails, looking at the budget and dealing with all of the issues that kept coming up.
In October, I was at a camp training with a well known camping professional who was talking about starting his own camp. I didn't think anything of it- it seemed like a really cool thing and I was happy for him. When he actually got it started and put information about it on facebook, I looked at the website and saw that he was running just one week of camp this year and it happened to start AFTER my camp ended. Which is when I got the idea to be a camp counselor. I emailed him and asked if it would be weird if I applied. He responded right away and I got hired and I am SUPER excited.
I am excited to be at camp with a fraction of the responsibility. The clogged toilet, the crabby parent, the broken window, the malfunctioning ice machine- NOT MY PROBLEM!! I just get to hang out with kids, lead some activities and soak in the sun!
I am eager to see another camp run as I often think to myself, "I wonder how other camps do_____". I am eager to work for a well-known camping professional who I happen to idolize. I can't wait to see him lead staff training or day to day operations. I am eager to see camp from a different perspective. I am not even there yet, but I already feel like I can relate to my staff better.
I am nervous, but excited. I haven't given up my cell phone or not had access to my email for a full week in years. But I think it is going to be a good experience...
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Re-Adjusting
On Sunday night, I arrived home in time for dinner with my boyfriend. He had flowers on the table and my favorite pizza on the way. I gorged myself on delicious food and red wine, unloaded everything out of the car, and was passed out by 9:30pm. I slept until 9:30am the next day, and when I woke up, I felt like I'd been in a coma, but also refreshed and energized.
On Monday, I spent the day unpacking, organizing, cleaning, went to Whole Foods, planned a week's worth of gluten free meals, made a healthy dinner and once again, passed out by 9:30. On Tuesday, I had a long list of plans, made a huge mess when I decided to re-organize all of the closets in the house and then exhaustion hit and I spent about 2 hours on the couch in my new camp snuggie. The end of summer exhaustion snuck up on me and I am trying to give myself time to relax, despite having several projects I want to complete.
Yesterday, I was up at 7:30, at my office by 8:30 and downtown to meet with the board president by 9:30. I ran a few errands afterwards, made a little progress with the closet organization situation, cooked an elaborate dinner, and then the BF and I met up with A and M for a semi-double date.
And then last night, I hit the post-camp wall that always inevitably hits. The BF moved in a year ago and we have been trying to combine two houses worth of stuff, re-arrange, re-organize and re-decorate for a year. Every single room in the house has a long list of projects that I want to do to make it "right" and I am overwhelmed. It has been like this for a year and so I'm not sure why I decided to be hysterical about it last night, but I was beside myself.
My response was to yell at my BF for not caring about the projects that are upsetting me. Then I burst into irrational, hysterical tears. BF never really knows what to do when I get like that, and inevitably he does something that I interpret as him not caring, which lead to more tears. And then I started thinking about my dad. I watched the memorial video from his funeral and cried until my eyes swelled shut. I thought about all of the things he did to help me with this house and irrationally thought, "if he was still alive, my house would be in order because HE would help me" and then I cried some more.
Feeling more rested and much saner than last night, I know I was being irrational and emotional and I wish there was an "off" switch that would shut my brain off and put me immediately to sleep for times when I get overly tired and upset. We have a lot of projects to do around the house and BF is not as excited about them as I want him to be. I vented to my bestie this morning and she argued that I shouldn't blame him- she wouldn't be excited about a million cleaning/organizing projects either, so I probably should cut him some slack. I argued that I don't need him to be excited, but I need him to care because it matters to me. She told me I probably needed to be a little more patient (with myself and with my poor BF).
I know that the bigger issue is not the to do list or anything my BF has done or hasn't done. Going from camp life to home life is always tough.
And here's why:
At camp, I control every single aspect of life. If I want a project done, I just have to point at it and assign a staff member to do it. Not only that, between Assistant Director A and Property Manager T and all of my wonderful, helpful, hard working, willing staff, I am surrounded by "yes" people. On a daily basis, I hear, "whatever you want, we'll make it work" MULTIPLE times, by multiple people. My staff respect and like me, they are comfortable giving me feedback or suggestions, but ultimately, I am in charge.
It's not like that at home. And it shouldn't be. I have a wonderful BF and amazing family who I love and I am glad they are different than my staff. But they have their own lives, own opinions, own priorities, own schedules and I have to re-adjust to fitting into the world around me, rather than being in charge of everything. And that causes me some anxiety.
My BF also has to re-adjust. He loves me and missed me while I was gone, but there are some positive aspects to the single life. His schedule was completely flexible all summer. He went to happy hour with friends whenever and as often as he wanted. He could make any plans and do anything he wanted. So going back to coordinating his schedule with mine, being home for dinner, and having someone take up so much of his time is also an adjustment.
I've only been home for 4 days, and tomorrow I am leaving again, so I know I should be more patient with myself and with him. I am happy to be home. And I am more thankful than I can possibly put into words for an amazing BF who I love and adore, a beautiful home, a neighborhood I love, a WONDERFUL life. I know it will take some time and some patience, but it is a privilege to have so much to be thankful for.
On Monday, I spent the day unpacking, organizing, cleaning, went to Whole Foods, planned a week's worth of gluten free meals, made a healthy dinner and once again, passed out by 9:30. On Tuesday, I had a long list of plans, made a huge mess when I decided to re-organize all of the closets in the house and then exhaustion hit and I spent about 2 hours on the couch in my new camp snuggie. The end of summer exhaustion snuck up on me and I am trying to give myself time to relax, despite having several projects I want to complete.
Yesterday, I was up at 7:30, at my office by 8:30 and downtown to meet with the board president by 9:30. I ran a few errands afterwards, made a little progress with the closet organization situation, cooked an elaborate dinner, and then the BF and I met up with A and M for a semi-double date.
And then last night, I hit the post-camp wall that always inevitably hits. The BF moved in a year ago and we have been trying to combine two houses worth of stuff, re-arrange, re-organize and re-decorate for a year. Every single room in the house has a long list of projects that I want to do to make it "right" and I am overwhelmed. It has been like this for a year and so I'm not sure why I decided to be hysterical about it last night, but I was beside myself.
My response was to yell at my BF for not caring about the projects that are upsetting me. Then I burst into irrational, hysterical tears. BF never really knows what to do when I get like that, and inevitably he does something that I interpret as him not caring, which lead to more tears. And then I started thinking about my dad. I watched the memorial video from his funeral and cried until my eyes swelled shut. I thought about all of the things he did to help me with this house and irrationally thought, "if he was still alive, my house would be in order because HE would help me" and then I cried some more.
Feeling more rested and much saner than last night, I know I was being irrational and emotional and I wish there was an "off" switch that would shut my brain off and put me immediately to sleep for times when I get overly tired and upset. We have a lot of projects to do around the house and BF is not as excited about them as I want him to be. I vented to my bestie this morning and she argued that I shouldn't blame him- she wouldn't be excited about a million cleaning/organizing projects either, so I probably should cut him some slack. I argued that I don't need him to be excited, but I need him to care because it matters to me. She told me I probably needed to be a little more patient (with myself and with my poor BF).
I know that the bigger issue is not the to do list or anything my BF has done or hasn't done. Going from camp life to home life is always tough.
And here's why:
At camp, I control every single aspect of life. If I want a project done, I just have to point at it and assign a staff member to do it. Not only that, between Assistant Director A and Property Manager T and all of my wonderful, helpful, hard working, willing staff, I am surrounded by "yes" people. On a daily basis, I hear, "whatever you want, we'll make it work" MULTIPLE times, by multiple people. My staff respect and like me, they are comfortable giving me feedback or suggestions, but ultimately, I am in charge.
It's not like that at home. And it shouldn't be. I have a wonderful BF and amazing family who I love and I am glad they are different than my staff. But they have their own lives, own opinions, own priorities, own schedules and I have to re-adjust to fitting into the world around me, rather than being in charge of everything. And that causes me some anxiety.
My BF also has to re-adjust. He loves me and missed me while I was gone, but there are some positive aspects to the single life. His schedule was completely flexible all summer. He went to happy hour with friends whenever and as often as he wanted. He could make any plans and do anything he wanted. So going back to coordinating his schedule with mine, being home for dinner, and having someone take up so much of his time is also an adjustment.
I've only been home for 4 days, and tomorrow I am leaving again, so I know I should be more patient with myself and with him. I am happy to be home. And I am more thankful than I can possibly put into words for an amazing BF who I love and adore, a beautiful home, a neighborhood I love, a WONDERFUL life. I know it will take some time and some patience, but it is a privilege to have so much to be thankful for.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Fighting For Camp
A few weeks ago, I sent the board president and vice president an email telling them that camp was going well I really felt that we needed to have some conversations about keeping the doors open. Although the challenges (my reasons for why I wanted to leave camp) were still there, there is too much history and too much goodness to close the doors.
I wasn't sure how it would go over.
The only reason they talked about closing camp was because I said I was going to leave. Prior to that, they were willing to ignore the budget shortfalls and dependence on prayer as a method of survival.
I wasn't sure if they would tell me I was too late or that now that we'd openly talked about the problems, they were too much to ignore.
They came for a visit to camp on the last day. It wasn't the ideal day for them, but they got to see the kids and the staff and the beautiful well cared for grounds. They watched closing chapel in awe. The board president told me, "you were amazing! I wish I had video of that!" I have done basically the same speech and same routine for 6 years, but I was glad he enjoyed it and was impressed.
We didn't talk much about the future while they were at camp. They both said I was glad I had changed my mind about wanting to quit and we scheduled a meeting for when I returned.
Today I met with them and was 100% unsure of what they would say. I was less nervous than I expected, knowing that they might say, "it's over". I presented the budget through the end of the year. We will be about $80, 000 in the red by January. The board president jumped right into discussing ways we could cut here and there and also potential ways to fundraise more money than last year. And then the vice president chimed in and said, "wait, let's go back and tell us why you changed your mind."
I told them that last summer was more difficult than I'd expected. My dad had died just 6 months earlier and it was harder to be at camp than I had anticipated. And then camp flooded. We put up photos and video and had a "can do" attitude. I was positive every step of the way, but months later, I started to really think about all of the things that could have gone wrong, all of the responsibility I'd really had and I got scared.
And while having the consultant at camp had been a really positive thing, her stark dose of reality had really crushed my spirit. I've been fully aware of the challenges since day 1, but my idealism and optimism carried me through. My ability to focused on hope, rather than reality was what kept me going.
I told them that having such a positive summer was healing. And that speech that they were so impressed with- the one where I talk about our long history, what makes us so special as a camp and that the kids always have a place to belong at our camp- those words sunk in deeply this summer and I knew we couldn't give up.
I told them that I am still frustrated by the challenges and I am still just an "ok" fundraiser. I told them that I am still willing to step aside if they can find someone more qualified to save camp, but that if me being the director is what they want in order to keep camp open, I am in if they are.
Both of them shrugged, nodded and then the vice president said, "okay, well, our first board meeting of the year is in September. Let's never speak of the conversation we had in the spring- no one needs to know we almost closed camp. We've got $100,000 on our credit line. So we are okay for this year."
And that was that for now.
The little camp that could will continue.
The battle to find Catholic kids without support from the church continues. The battle to raise money continues. The battle to run a 66 year old falling down camp continues. I still don't really have any ideas for any of those challenges, but maybe this lucky #7 is the year I figure it out.
I couldn't be happier.
I wasn't sure how it would go over.
The only reason they talked about closing camp was because I said I was going to leave. Prior to that, they were willing to ignore the budget shortfalls and dependence on prayer as a method of survival.
I wasn't sure if they would tell me I was too late or that now that we'd openly talked about the problems, they were too much to ignore.
They came for a visit to camp on the last day. It wasn't the ideal day for them, but they got to see the kids and the staff and the beautiful well cared for grounds. They watched closing chapel in awe. The board president told me, "you were amazing! I wish I had video of that!" I have done basically the same speech and same routine for 6 years, but I was glad he enjoyed it and was impressed.
We didn't talk much about the future while they were at camp. They both said I was glad I had changed my mind about wanting to quit and we scheduled a meeting for when I returned.
Today I met with them and was 100% unsure of what they would say. I was less nervous than I expected, knowing that they might say, "it's over". I presented the budget through the end of the year. We will be about $80, 000 in the red by January. The board president jumped right into discussing ways we could cut here and there and also potential ways to fundraise more money than last year. And then the vice president chimed in and said, "wait, let's go back and tell us why you changed your mind."
I told them that last summer was more difficult than I'd expected. My dad had died just 6 months earlier and it was harder to be at camp than I had anticipated. And then camp flooded. We put up photos and video and had a "can do" attitude. I was positive every step of the way, but months later, I started to really think about all of the things that could have gone wrong, all of the responsibility I'd really had and I got scared.
And while having the consultant at camp had been a really positive thing, her stark dose of reality had really crushed my spirit. I've been fully aware of the challenges since day 1, but my idealism and optimism carried me through. My ability to focused on hope, rather than reality was what kept me going.
I told them that having such a positive summer was healing. And that speech that they were so impressed with- the one where I talk about our long history, what makes us so special as a camp and that the kids always have a place to belong at our camp- those words sunk in deeply this summer and I knew we couldn't give up.
I told them that I am still frustrated by the challenges and I am still just an "ok" fundraiser. I told them that I am still willing to step aside if they can find someone more qualified to save camp, but that if me being the director is what they want in order to keep camp open, I am in if they are.
Both of them shrugged, nodded and then the vice president said, "okay, well, our first board meeting of the year is in September. Let's never speak of the conversation we had in the spring- no one needs to know we almost closed camp. We've got $100,000 on our credit line. So we are okay for this year."
And that was that for now.
The little camp that could will continue.
The battle to find Catholic kids without support from the church continues. The battle to raise money continues. The battle to run a 66 year old falling down camp continues. I still don't really have any ideas for any of those challenges, but maybe this lucky #7 is the year I figure it out.
I couldn't be happier.
Sunday, August 11, 2013
A Sweet End
About half the staff left last night, and the rest left throughout the morning today.
A, M, K and I got up and got to work right away. The group got most of our jobs done yesterday, but we still had to pack and organize the office, go through each building and finish little projects here and there. We were a well-oiled machine- flying around camp at light speed. The staff took more time than we expected completing projects yesterday, but as I went from building to building, I was blown away by what a thorough job they did.
This is the cleanest, neatest and most organized this camp has ever been in the last 6 years and probably longer than that.
When we finished cleaning and packing, the four of us looked around and I said, "well... we did it."
We hugged goodbye and agreed to get together for lunch this week. I thought maybe I would cry when they left, but I have been so joy-filled all summer and even though I am sad it is ending, I still feel so happy. There weren't any tears. I know I will see all of them again and maybe even work together next summer.
They left camp and I took the dogs out to the field to play. The sun was shining brightly and it was deafeningly silent. I looked out at the gleaming, gorgeous camp and didn't recognize it. I was overwhelmed with feelings of relief (we made it the whole summer without any crisis or anyone getting hurt!), pride, and happiness. 2013 was a great summer. That seems like kind of an understatement, but it was simply wonderful.
Before I came to camp, I reluctantly went to my doctor and told him I thought something was wrong with me. I had spent the previous few months bursting into tears regularly and I couldn't remember the last time I felt happy. I didn't want to admit anything was wrong- I went through a depression in college and I didn't want to go back to that, but pretending I was fine wasn't helping. I started taking a small dose of antidepressants before the summer began. Within a few weeks, I felt like a new person. Actually, no, not a NEW person- I felt like myself. I hadn't realized how un-like myself I'd been. A bad day turned into a bad week, and eventually, it just seemed normal.
My bathroom has a light on the ceiling and then three lights above the mirror. One of the lights burned out and I meant to replace it, but kept forgetting to buy a new bulb at the store. I got used to the slightly dimmer bathroom. And then a second bulb burned out and it was way darker. When I finally got around to replacing the two bulbs and the bathroom was back to full brightness, I couldn't believe how light it was. All of a sudden, I could see every little detail. I had gotten used to the darker bathroom and was surprised by how bright it was.
THAT is what it felt like to start taking antidepressants. I forgot what it feels like to have energy, feel motivated, be curious, get excited. All of that came back to me.
I also started an entirely different diet- cutting our gluten, yeast, dairy, alcohol and (most) refined sugar (I cheated a little bit). I've lost 25 pounds since May and I feel incredible.
I leave camp feeling healthier, happier and less anxious than I have felt in years. I am proud of the work that I did and that the camp did this summer. I know that the future is up in the air, but I feel surprisingly peaceful despite so much unknown.
Thank you 2013. It has been an incredible journey.
A, M, K and I got up and got to work right away. The group got most of our jobs done yesterday, but we still had to pack and organize the office, go through each building and finish little projects here and there. We were a well-oiled machine- flying around camp at light speed. The staff took more time than we expected completing projects yesterday, but as I went from building to building, I was blown away by what a thorough job they did.
This is the cleanest, neatest and most organized this camp has ever been in the last 6 years and probably longer than that.
When we finished cleaning and packing, the four of us looked around and I said, "well... we did it."
We hugged goodbye and agreed to get together for lunch this week. I thought maybe I would cry when they left, but I have been so joy-filled all summer and even though I am sad it is ending, I still feel so happy. There weren't any tears. I know I will see all of them again and maybe even work together next summer.
They left camp and I took the dogs out to the field to play. The sun was shining brightly and it was deafeningly silent. I looked out at the gleaming, gorgeous camp and didn't recognize it. I was overwhelmed with feelings of relief (we made it the whole summer without any crisis or anyone getting hurt!), pride, and happiness. 2013 was a great summer. That seems like kind of an understatement, but it was simply wonderful.
Before I came to camp, I reluctantly went to my doctor and told him I thought something was wrong with me. I had spent the previous few months bursting into tears regularly and I couldn't remember the last time I felt happy. I didn't want to admit anything was wrong- I went through a depression in college and I didn't want to go back to that, but pretending I was fine wasn't helping. I started taking a small dose of antidepressants before the summer began. Within a few weeks, I felt like a new person. Actually, no, not a NEW person- I felt like myself. I hadn't realized how un-like myself I'd been. A bad day turned into a bad week, and eventually, it just seemed normal.
My bathroom has a light on the ceiling and then three lights above the mirror. One of the lights burned out and I meant to replace it, but kept forgetting to buy a new bulb at the store. I got used to the slightly dimmer bathroom. And then a second bulb burned out and it was way darker. When I finally got around to replacing the two bulbs and the bathroom was back to full brightness, I couldn't believe how light it was. All of a sudden, I could see every little detail. I had gotten used to the darker bathroom and was surprised by how bright it was.
THAT is what it felt like to start taking antidepressants. I forgot what it feels like to have energy, feel motivated, be curious, get excited. All of that came back to me.
I also started an entirely different diet- cutting our gluten, yeast, dairy, alcohol and (most) refined sugar (I cheated a little bit). I've lost 25 pounds since May and I feel incredible.
I leave camp feeling healthier, happier and less anxious than I have felt in years. I am proud of the work that I did and that the camp did this summer. I know that the future is up in the air, but I feel surprisingly peaceful despite so much unknown.
Thank you 2013. It has been an incredible journey.
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