Some of the 1981 international staff, from left to right: Maggi from Japan, Ulla from Denmark, Eric (was his last name Cahill?) from the UK, Elizabeth from Senegal, Thomas Franzkowiak from Germany and Johan from Holland. Tom F. was in Forest, Ulla was in Susky, and I believe Johan was a counselor in Sequoia. 
Aidyn Gold is here this session again - son of Adam Gold, long-time camper (late 70s/80s), brother of Steven and Michael. Ah, the Golds of West Orange. I remember (as director) these three "lifers" (always here 8 weeks) and mom Linda, with whom I was on the phone weekly it seemed.
From right to left: Lisa Ernst, Andy Kremer, Dave Sacker and Dave's wife Darcy. Andy Kremer--one of the many Kremers, they of the homestead at the head of the Frost Valley road in Claryville--lives and works in California, so we don't see him as much as we'd like. Come east, Andrew! Lisa's FV years go back to the late 60s and 70s and she of course is a member of the full-time FV staff (our director of "advancement"--which means she deals with major donor prospects and foundations). Dave Sacker's wife Darcy is an MD and we're hoping she'll get her NY State license and come next summer to spend a week or two as the camp doc--and perhaps their daughter, now 6, will come for a session too. It's all in the family. Darcy's never been to Woodstock, so they've gone there, now that our meetings are done, to try out a restaurant for dinner. After a hike, of course.
At the Susky / Lakota Challenge Night last night, we had to locate a new and different cadre of judges, since a VC program meeting was being held at the same time, so the usual suspects were unavailable. No matter. We had, from left to right, Laura Johnson (FV's director of conference), Phyllis Kaskel, Rick Kaskel (trustee up a night early for the big meeting, which was held today), Bob Messick (another trustee making his Challenge Night debut) and Brian Sense who was just back from a week co-leading a program at Straus.
I just have to reprise this photograph because I like it so much. This was at the 125th anniversary campfire and it had gotten quite dark. So as I got up there to tell a story and lead a song and a cheer, I asked the kids to shine flashlights on me (I can't remember ever doing this) and was stunned by how bright it all was. Someone--Dan Weir, I think, or maybe Sandy Bohn--snapped this picture. You can see me at the far left of the shot. The location is CIT Point.
Listen to former long-time camper and counselor Kenny Abbott sing a song--"The Grass Down Below." Kenny and I used to sing a Dylan song (one of several, actually) at closing campfires, "You Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go." That song has a phrase in it: "the grass down below." So I like to think that years later, when Kenny was writing this song, he was thinking about those nights around the fire with everyone sad about leaving and we'd tune up and belt out the sentiment: you're gonna make me lonesome when you go.
Click on the image for a closer view. Catch up with Rick Cobb, Frost Valley years, 1971-1980 (& '82 for a guest stint as a Lenape counselor). Click here for much more about Rick's life and work today.
Cabins 41 through 45 seen at dusk recently. Many reading this will remember them as Girls 11-15 (Sacky for many decades). In the 21st century this village has been the home of Lakota, a girls' village in Wawayanda between Susky and Sacky by age. You can see four of the five in the row--possibly, if you look closely, you can see all five. I was one of those who used to complain about how jammed-together the cabins on "The Hill" are. I've even been known to call them tenements. But their location has grown on me over the years. The cabins themselves are pretty worn (having not really been renovated since they were built in 1965 or '66). But the campers and counselors who live in them swear by the scene: they love it. The walk from cabin 46 (formerly 16 in Tacoma, now Susky) is the longest walk to the dining hall from a place of campers' residence. So 45, which you see in the foreground, is the second-longest walk. If you have stories about these two "hill" villages, send them to me at afilreis [AT] gmail [DOT] com.
Tom Cometa was a mainstay staffer here in the early and mid-80s (late 80s too?). Tom and his family have made a regular practice of coming to Family Camp at the end of each summer. Now Tom's son Andrew is here in Outpost cabin 35. Yesterday I stopped by my table to introduce himself. Mark Gottdenker was there and it turns out that Mark was a camper of Andrew's dad Tom--in Tom's cabin--some 25 years ago.
Don't be fooled by their youthful looks. These two are both terrific counselors: Charlie Araton and Pat Keogh. They're in Outpost and at last night's Outpost Challenge Night they entered this challenge: two unrelated people from each team who look most alike. So here's the kicker: these two are co-counselors in one of the Outpost cabins. Yes, we've assigned to one cabin two staff members who look this much alike! I can't remember in my whole history here ever seeing such a phenomenon. What are the odds?
Brian Sense is back this week - from Colorado (I think). He's teaching a course at the Straus Center but made a surprise visit to the dining hall last night. Immediately his charisma spread itself around and lots of his former campers and staff gathered around him. He was our Adventure Director in his most recent years here, but before that he was a counselor and summer staffer for many years going back to the early 90s.
The last afternoon of session 2, in preparation for closing campfires, I needed to rescue my guitar from my son who had taken it to his cabin. So I walked up the hill, fetched the guitar, slung it across my shoulder and as I walked down the hill I began to play. Then I realized that the kids whom I passed were enjoying it and then I found myself taking 2 hours to get back to the office from whence my little excursion originated. I must have walked through six or seven villages doing various activities, and stopped at the Wellness Center too, where folks with twisted ankles and those waiting for dispensed meds sang with me too. At Pokey-Totem some of the kids took the pick and strummed while I fingered the chords. What fun and so relaxing!
Once VCs were given keys to program areas (a BCB key originally), the dispensing of keys became a tradition. Chuck White's stern lecture about the responsibility of carrying a key was legendary. At the first VC meeting of the summer Chuck would come, give this talk at great length, and then folks would line up, have a piece of synthetic cord cut off a spool by Chuck's pocketknife, the key would be slid along the cord and then the ends would be tied into a Chuck-special knot, then melted slightly at the end of a flame produced by a lighter. These cords and the knot lasted forever, I always thought--but never really had the proof. Until last night, when Eric Blum stopped by at 11 PM to chat, and I noticed he was wearing his key on an old Chuck White-style cord. It was the very same cord Chuck had given him 22 or 23 years ago. Unreal. Some things just last and last. And of course I don't mean just the cord or key.
A veteran of Frost Valley years on staff will tell you many urgent things if you ask. (And if you ask, be ready for Ancient Mariner-like tale-telling. Spare more than a few minutes.) The first or second thing they will say is that everyone, absolutely everyone, stands ready to do pretty much anything that needs to be done. It's, at base, a camp--and so "anything" typically entails physical work: popping tables in the dining hall, picking up trash, hauling luggage in a truck, emptying garbage cans, raking and picking up stones, digging ditches in the event of a septic problem. We've all done it here; we've all done it all. I was reminded of this yesterday when I noticed our Director of Housekeeping Services, Jeff Williams, standing in the front of the dining hall, during two loud dinner shifts of camp, like a soldier on alert, small broom and dustbin at the ready. I asked him what he was doing. He said that one of his staff needed some time off and that rather than shifting everyone around he figured he'd be on call in the dining hall. Impressive. A little later I had a bit of paper--a wrapper--in my hand as Jeff and I were talking and he saw the paper and held up the dustbin and smiled. That smile said, Just here to help. Whatever it takes.
Looking back a week at the middle of second session: found a good photo of the moment when the 2010 FV Olympic torch was lit, and here you go. Not bad, eh?
Brian Butler, James Raffo and Shawn Schaefer came too - spent the weekend here and then provided a hilarious trio of help along the trail to lost parents.
Noah Ferris arrived for two weeks in Outpost, along with his parents John Ferris and Jan Gikner Ferris. 
At one point we got a radio call from the Ad Office telling us that a "gentleman" was there hoping to show us some memorabilia from 35 years ago. Allye Glicker and I promptly went down there, only to find Glenn Kreismer, who began as a camper in 1968 and kept coming through 1975, his CIT year. He had with him a carved stick, signed by staff and campers back then (I recognized most of the names)--he and others whittled such sticks under the guidance of Mark Showers, who became something of an expert in this art. Glenn also had with him an "Order of the Oar" paddle that he somehow persuaded his counselors to give him. It too is signed by many FV stars from the 70s. Chris Mills, Reed Auerbach, Mark Kramer, Ladd Connell, Doug Terrell, Pat McShane (VC Lenape), Mark Wazniak, Pete Dobbs (taught many of us how to flyfish), Jim Ewen ("your friend always"), Mark Staimer, Stu Sherman, David Householder, the late Mark Selig, D. Halbe Brown, Jon Mittelman, Russ Oeschle, Barry Dunkin, Pat Ricciardi, Mike Rubin, George Zimmerman, Bob Grant, Carl Hess, David D'Oyen, Jim Weigley, Peter Tilles, Bassem Al-Hibri, Norm Gurfinkel ("mini-bike '73"), Rick Hicks ("basketball, that's all"), John Mumford, Tim Stickel, and some guy named "Al Filreis."
Figgy would get into a funk when she had to come home. She'd cry and sniffle in the back seat of the car, or sulk. She wouldn't talk to us.
It would take a while, and then all the stories would spill out. The tales about the castle, the opening campfire, the closing campfire, the waterfront, the pita pizzas, the ghost stories, the overnight [where they all sleep outside], the hash browns, how much water the counselors make them drink, how Figgy ate five apples one day, spaghetti night, the dance, and a game she loves called ultimate sicko ball, which she says is like capture the flag.
You don't understand, she'd say in a pitiful little voice from the back seat of our car. I will probably never see some of these people again in my life. [True. Her counselors have come from all over, including Holland, Ireland, Cape Cod and California. And I gather that the bonds that are forged, the secrets shared, the fears confronted during those two weeks can be life-changing.]
This is Figgy's seventh year in a row, and her last year as a camper. This is not a pretty picture. She will apply to be a Counselor in Training [CIT] next year, but we hear the competition is thick.
I'm warning you now, she said yesterday, That I might sulk for twenty-four hours, because I'm going to be so sad.
Here's Eric and Julia of the Adventure Village staff, showing off a little AdVill glam at lunch today.
Last night, for me, was a quadruple header. So long as I can get some sleep another night, I just love being out and around, and busy, and involved, on one of these nights--at night, especially. Last night it was warmer than usual, but still cool enough - in the upper 50s. But the stars were out, beginning with a Jupiter so bright that it seemed to cast a shadow on the path.
Back to Challenge Night in Geyer, where the Sunburst girls joined the five Forest/Susky teams and were a big help. We had a great Challenge: the individual songs at the end were sweet and meaningful; the weirdest noises were, well, weird; and we added a new/revised challenge: a counselor spins around, looking up at the top of a broomstick, for 35 seconds and then must walk 30 feet to a ball and toss the ball into a hoop. The dizzy swaying and swaggering was hilarious and the dizziest one, Becca Schneider, managed to get the ball into the hoop. Winners had an ice cream sundae party. Among the judges was Bob Eddings, now FV's director of Environmental Education programs--coming out of Evening Program retirement to don an Al's Challenge Night tshirt and join in the fun. He's a talented improviser and it was great to see him in action again.
On such a night it seemed impossible to turn in after all this. So before heading home I wandered around, finding a few CQ fires, walking through the empty villages of those out on overnights, and then went into Hyde-Watson Lodge to chat with the Forest staff who were getting ready to build a fire indoors there. I ended up in the dining hall - staff lounge - where Jeff Daly was cooking Jeffburgers. The rule is: you either eat a Jeffburger with all the standard toppings, or you don't get a burger. I'd eaten 3 meals this day and then partook of the winning Challenge Night teams' ice cream sundae snack and certainly did not need a Jeffburger, but how could I say no? Jeff prepared one for me with panache, but then I saw him grab the hot sauce bottle and the chocolate sauce. Oh boy. Could I decline now? Not a chance. Two slices of American cheese, hot sauce, chocolate sauce, a well-done patty, on a Wonderbread roll. First bite. Perfection. It is a taste that tastes good only at midnight on such a night as this was. Unforgettably not an evening lazing in front of a ballgame on TV or at a desk deleting the day's spam with the city's heat staved off by a loudly rattling AC unit. No, this was a different summertime. This was the real deal.
Challenge Night for Forest/Susky/Sunburst last night. Among the judges (left to right): Chris Harper, Bobby Eddings, and Maddy Geftic.
These two met as campers here and are now junior counselors and friends for life: Shannon Crane and Chloe Kostman. Can you just tell, from this sequence, how unusually great such friendships are?
Annabeth, a long-time camper now in Sunburst, is really fascinated by the legend of Bud Cox. (Bud recently led the entire camp in a rousing rendition of "Lion Hunt," thus reviving, once again, camp-wide interest in his long tenure here and his famous antics.) Annabeth dressed up for a Sunburst/Forest theme day, and planned to mail herself to Bud. You can see the stamp and Bud's address on her forehead.
Tyler Katz is here this session. He's the son of Fran Corey Katz who was a camper her back in the early 70s. (Hey, Fran! I hope you and Tyler and the rest of the family are planning to come to the Labor Day reunion!)
Years ago we created "Sunburst" as a village of girls older than Tacoma but different from Cherokee and prior to the invention of Windsong. Small group, no brother village, did things on the fly - and they were led, I believe, by Jan Gikner of Woodstock (now Jan Gikner Ferris).
The story I'm telling this summer is based on the origin of the phrase "Messages to Garcia," which is, as most FV'ers know, the name of a game we play here. Like "Ultimate Sicko Ball," it's a phrase that is used but not really understood. Who was Garcia, anyway?
In 1980 and 1981, a young man from Australia came to Frost Valley to try his hand at the American experience. At the same time, a young woman came from Denmark for the same reason. He was Greg and she was Ulla. Greg was thrown into the role of village chief - in Forest. And Ulla was a counselor in Susky. They met. When their Frost Valley years were done, they wondered whether they could make a go of it in Australia. A few years later they moved to Denmark. Now they have two sons - Thomas and Simon - and they are back here for the first time in thirty - yes, thirty - years. They chose to arrive on Olympic day, and wow was that ever an accelerating Proustian wormhole into memories of this place, floods of them. I introduced Greg to the 2010 Australian team as the coach of Oz from 1980; they were amazed and embraced him. Here you see a picture of Greg with this year's Australian counselor. At another point we went to show the boys the cabins their parents lived and worked in. We found Greg Aggs' Forest cabin, now up the hill--but still, ol' #10. He walked into his counselors' room and proudly showed his sons where he spent two summers of 10 weeks each--that little living space. Amazing. Tonight I'll take them over to the East Neversink valley, to visit the Farm Camp (which of course didn't exist during their time here), where I'll tell a story and will hope for the stars (after an alternately rainy and sunny day).
Greg and Ulla had recently visited Greame Sephton and Helen-Ann Hickey - in Massachusetts - and they brought along some of Helen Ann's old photos from the early 80s. From here they will drive to NJ and spent a few days with Jody Ketcham. During our chats I got to hear about the happy post-FV life of Greg's brother Ron Aggs, who works as a journalist in Sydney and commutes to his family (including twins) in Canberra.
Olympics 2010. It begins as I type this. Teams marching right now toward the Olympic Circle, one team at a time, Olympic theme playing over the sound system. The photos above were taken this afternoon--day one: painting banners, learning cheers, getting into it. In the middle of all this, just now, the CITs came back from their long multi-day hike. Dirty, smelly, romping around, delighted with their good timing. They'll shower and come back to watch the second half of the Opening Ceremonies.
On Wednesday we celebrated 125 years of camping. As most readers of this blog know, in 1886 the tiny camp that had been established in 1885 set up at Lake Wawayanda in New Jersey. Eventually that camp split into two - in 1901: one camp, subsequently named Camp
During Sunday's check-in, all sorts of former staffers showed up with their kids. Debbie Reich (Sacky counselor way back in the late 70s) brought her daughter. Jim Neilson (Forest counselor and bike repair guy in the early 80s) drove up from Virginia with his daughter, who left on an Adventure Trip this morning. Adam Weiss, a Lacota (tipi village) camper in the late 70s, showed up with his son and simply could not believe I was "still here." There were others, but the big shocker was Todd Payton. Todd Payton! He brought his daughter who also left today on an Adventure Trip (to Maine, I believe). I hadn't seen him in 25 years. Jim's daughter snapped the shot above: from left to right, Mark Gottdenker, Jim Neilson, Al Filreis, Todd Payton.
Huge, huge check-in day yesterday. Session 2 is always our largest session. I walked into the dining hall for Hird's dinner and--pow!--was happily jolted by the sheer size of the group. Every table in the main room filled with eager folks young and old(er). Sun shone most of the afternoon, but then--yet only after 99% of the luggage had been moved and everyone was in cabins or dining hall--we got a soaking rain. This drove opening campfires indoors. As I moved from leading "Father Abraham" hilariously for Wawayanda to doing the same for Hird on the other side of camp, I saw that the sky was beginning to clear and snapped this shot at the lake. A nice pause in a long busy day. Nice? Nice. To say the least.
Del Giannotti is the latest in the Giannotti clan to attend Frost Valley. Here's a photo of John and Toni and Del after Del's two happy weeks in Lenape.
