Sleep Away Camp

I just spent a weekend with over 400 young people and the over 200 staff that support them at a camp in the Georgia mountains.  I was an observer for the most part, with a few opportunities to interact with the group.  My primary activity was actually participating in workshops and discovery sessions with fellow professionals and volunteers who are focused on youth engagement, at a conference that was held on site at this resident camp.

What an amazing experience! 

I never went to sleep away camp.  Sure, I went camping with scouts, and friends, went on extended stay field trips, and youth group conventions, and had plenty of sleepovers, but I never had the opportunity to attend a camp scenario like this.  I had friends that went away for weeks and months at a time, but I stayed close to home.  I have no regrets - I look back fondly on the summers of my youth - filled with day camps of all kinds - from music to sports to animals to scouts and so on.  And in between and throughout, my idle time was anything but, spent with friends, or even solo exploring trails on bicycles or on foot (I can't believe how far I used to travel on my own!), or reading in summer programs at the library, or crafting at home, heading to a museum or a show in the city, or sometimes, just simply doing nothing...which in summer time, especially in summer time is not always such a bad thing to do.  But I never went to sleep away camp.

My dad used to go every summer.  I didn't know it then, but I do now, when my grandmother repeats the conversation about how incredulous it is that I don't send my kids off  shortly after school ends, every summer of recent past.  He never pushed it for me; he may have mentioned it once or twice, but never recounted fond memories, or told me stories that would make me wonder.  Perhaps he didn't like his experience - that's what I have to surmise, otherwise, being the talker that he is, I'm sure I would have heard about it.  And I would assume, had he loved his experiences, he would have encouraged me to do the same.  I could be wrong on that too - he was a young dad, and maybe it just didn't occur to him.  Nevertheless, I never went to sleep away camp.

I've known kids who hated their experience.  I've known kids who liked it.  I've known people who loved it so much, they returned year after year to the same places, eventually becoming counselors, meeting significant others who become spouses, and then in turn, sending their children to the same places.  But I never went to sleep away camp.

Now that I've seen it, close up, live, immersively...I get it.  To see so many kids - in a broad age range - bonded together, sincerely enjoying their time and being able to express their joy through so many outlets, both physically and intellectually, is exhilarating.  To see so many kids - with such a wide range of personalities, physically embracing one another during a session of music, arms linked in solidarity, swaying in time with the songs they are singing, is moving and emotional.  To see so many kids - making connections with others from across the ocean and right next door, building memories to last a lifetime, developing relationships that may influence their lives forever is utterly profound. 

I kinda wish I went to sleep away camp.

I hope to give that gift to my children soon.

Into the Darkness

One of the roads I drive home on, the one I call my extended driveway since you can't get to much until you get to one end of it or the other, has a significant portion that runs solidly east and west.  When I drive home, after a long, long day, full of work and errands, perhaps some shopping or dinner with the family or the girls or any number of activities that fill my life, and I hit that road at just the right time there is a phenomenon that strikes me as marvelous every time. 

Ahead of me, darkness - and often, particularly in summer, that post dusk darkness is thickened by a deep cloud cover, which can result in a surprisingly early inky sky.  In my side and rear view mirrors, however, a spectacular sunset glows - all pinks, and oranges, tendrils of clouds whispering to the sun, go to bed, go to bed. 

There seems to be no blending, no gradual descent into night, just light behind me, and darkness ahead, like somewhere over the top of my vehicle a curtain has been drawn.  It's almost distracting, as the even sleepy sky seems brilliant in reflection compared to the shade that lies ahead.  Depending on my day, it can be disconcerting sometimes to have such a broad contrast between where I've been and where I'm going. 

It reminds me of when I used to take the train when I was younger, that for a stretch ran true north, and one of side of the train slid along the darkness and the other still bathed in sunset.  But I had more time to soak that in as I was just a passenger.  It really felt like two different worlds - as I would loll my head from one side to the other, my irises dilating and contracting in rhythm with the train rumble.  Funny that at that time of my life, the contrast ran bilaterally, allowing me to make a choice on which type of scenery I soaked in. And now, as I am quite a bit older, the directions have changed and with it the perspectives.

I suppose, in the wee hours of the morning, the phenomenon reverses itself, a sultry morning sky yawning ahead, while the darkness fades away behind.  But that's not my schedule, at least not my natural one.  And the few times I have driven that route at a time I might capture it, I am just awake enough to move the mechanics safely, and stay focused on the task at hand. 

So for now, I'll just marvel at the rearview, nature's finale in harmonic hues and say goodbye to another day.