The Last Day of Camp

Yesterday was the last day of camp. The last day of camp ever. It’s over; it’s done. 67 years and now it’s over. It’s actually a little hard to believe and it definitely hasn’t sunk in yet.

All summer, I thought about the last day and I assumed I’d be hysterical. I imagined myself falling to the ground and unable to function. But it wasn’t like that.

A, M and I got up early yesterday. Like, really really early, so that we could watch the sunrise. Every year, I always imagine myself getting up early every day to watch the sunrise and get a jump on the day. It has never happened. I’m always way too tired.

But yesterday we finally did it.

It was a little anti-climactic and a bit of a let down.

We took the golf cart and went down to the beach. All of us were exhausted. It was cold. So we huddled together and sat around waiting. I expected to feel nostalgic or emotional and maybe be a crying mess. But mostly I was just cold and tired and didn’t feel any emotions at all. It just felt like a regular day.

Sunset Beach is a beautiful place at camp and, true to its name, offers the most gorgeous sunsets. We were on the other side of camp at the swim beach. Apparently that wasn’t the right place, or maybe we weren’t there at the right time, or, I don’t know. But we never did get to see a brilliant sunrise to take our breath away and inspire our last day. Eventually it was just sorta brighter out and we all looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and said, “so, do you think that’s it?” and then, “sooooo, are we done with this?” and then we went back to our houses to shower and warm up.

The last day of camp was like all last days of camp. It was bittersweet- sad to be done, but also kind of ready to go home after 3 months away. The overwhelming emotion that I expected (and felt many times throughout the summer) never hit me.

And then it was over.

This summer was difficult because only a few of us knew it was the end. There were rumors and people asked me about it. But A, M, B and I were basically the only ones who knew anything. And it was a big weight to carry on my shoulders. I have no idea what the future holds and I am tired, physically and emotionally drained.

But I also feel like I savored every moment. I enjoyed every campfire, really looked around, enjoying the moments. I sang my heart out and soaked in the sun. And surprisingly, I’m not hysterical or feeling crushed by depression or anything tragic.

I have no idea what is next. There are roughly 25 buildings, all of which have stuff (furniture, equipment, etc) in them. How do you clear out that much stuff?

It’s so weird to have absolutely no idea what comes next. I know I still have a job- it’s going to take a while to shut everything down and then once the sale goes through, the plan is to become a foundation and give out money. The board has told me I will run the foundation, which sounds sort of boring or maybe kind of fun. I don’t know- certain days I feel excited about it and certain days not so much.

I am mostly stressed out because A, S and T will not have jobs for much longer and all of them want to know what is happening. I have no idea. It’s hard to be responsible for people without having any control or ability to give them answers.

And oh yeah, I’m getting married… at camp, so there’s that to focus on. The board has promised me that we won’t complete the sale until after October 4, so the wedding can happen. So for now, that’s my focus. I’m being zen-like about the absolute unknown future. Well, okay, paralyzed with anxiety at times, but mostly zen-like.

Anyway, summer #7 was a success. A good end to a long history of a beautiful camp.

21 Day Happiness Challenge

We're taking the 21 day happiness challenge. Last weekend was our midsummer staff inservice. Every year, I try to make this day meaningful and inspiring and motivational so that the staff will be energized for the last few weeks of the summer.

I was really struggling with what to do, but my brother actually recommended this and I immediately knew that this would be perfect. We watched the video- http://www.ted.com/talks/shawn_achor_the_happy_secret_to_better_work?language=en

and it just so happens that 21 days from the date of the inservice is the last day of camp, so the timing seemed perfect.

The challenge is to do the following 5 things every day for 21 days. 

1.     Write down three new things you are grateful for each day.

Research shows this will significantly improve your optimism even 6 months later, and raises your success rates significantly.

2.     Write for 2 minutes a day describing one positive experience you had over the past 24 hours.

This is a strategy to help transform you from a task-based thinker, to a meaning based thinker who scans the world for meaning instead of endless to-dos. This dramatically increases work happiness.

3.     Exercise for 10 minutes a day.

This trains your brain to believe your behavior matters, which causes a cascade of success throughout the rest of the day.

4.     Meditate for 2 minutes, focusing on your breath going in and out.

This will help you undo the negative effects of multitasking. Research shows you get multiple tasks done faster if you do them one at a time. It also decreases stress and raises happiness.

5.     Write one, quick note first thing in the morning thanking or praising a member on your team.

This significantly increases your feeling of social support, which in my study at Harvard was the largest predictor of happiness for the students.

Prior to the inservice, M, A and I made little "happiness challenge kits" for everyone. It included an envelope with 21 pieces of paper for people to write notes to each other, a journal that had a page for each day with places to write down the three things they are grateful for and also a space to write for 2 minutes. Also in the journal were 2 charts to check off when you meditate and when you exercise.

The staff were really receptive and we made it really easy for them with the kit. I have been surprised and pleased with how focused on the positive that I have been. I like taking time to make a specific effort to thank and acknowledge people. I like reflecting on the good things from the day. It really seems to be working and I am proud of challenging the whole staff to do this!

Gut Wrenching

Today I left lunch and went to greet the parents who were early for the closing program. The first man I met was a camp alumni. He was a camper and then a camp staff in the late 80s. I had spoken with him a few weeks earlier. His wife had died a few months before and his son was struggling with it (obviously). His son had gone to a camp earlier in the summer and had called him midway through the week to demand to be picked up. He was nervous about sending him to our camp, but after we talked, he decided to try it.

His son was a quiet kid, but generally happy and seemed to have a really great time. I stood and talked with the dad and shared some things from the week- it was a typical conversation I have a million times every summer.

But then he told me about his experience with camp. He met his wife at camp- they both worked in the kitchen. He told me several wonderful stories about her and about their summers at camp. He had tears in his eyes and told me he hadn't been back in a long time and he hadn't been sure about returning today because he thought it would be too hard. He had tears in his eyes as he looked around.

He asked me if the rumors about camp closing were true. I told him I didn't know and we were hopeful. Once again, I felt like my heart was being ripped out. The board doesn't seem to understand that this place means so much to people and that if we are closing, we need to let people know. We need to give people like this dad, a chance to come back to a place that played such a huge role in his life and say goodbye. I am SO frustrated that I don't have any answers and that in a few months, I am going to have to tell people like him that we are closing.

His son ended up winning camper of the week in his cabin and as I announced his name, I watched his dad openly cry from the back row of benches. I wanted to cry too. There are so many bittersweet moments each day. I don't know what to think of this summer yet, but today I feel sad.

Work Week

Registration this year is excellent and I am really happy because, financial success aside, it is just so much more fun when the week is filled and there are tons of kids. All of the sessions were looking good except this past week- I'm not sure if it was the 4th of July holiday or the theme or what, but as of a month ago, we only had 13 kids registered, so I decided to cancel it. I called all the parents and I was able to move all the kids without any issue, so it was fine- kind of annoying, but it all worked out.

I made Monday-Wednesday optional "work week" and had the staff busy with a bunch of random projects we wouldn't have had time for otherwise. They scraped and repainted cabins all over camp, chopped wood, helped prepare future programming things, etc. They worked really hard and while canceling the week wasn't ideal, it ended up being a blessing in disguise because camp looks gorgeous and I feel even better about programming than I did before.

Thursday was a day of rest- I literally did nothing and it was FABULOUS. Yesterday was another day of rest but also 4th of July so we had a BBQ and went out on the pontoon to watch fireworks. Camp is in a little up north town, but the fireworks display is outstanding!

Today is my third day off in a row and I am getting a little antsy and ready for kids to return and camp life to go back to normal, but I am ready to enjoy another sunny day filled with relaxing!

Home

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.

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.

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'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.

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.

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.

"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.

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!!!

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!

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

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...

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.

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 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!!

So now everyone is in the loop and I'm ready to focus on the summer.