Wednesday, July 25, 2012

a long story about a night of a million stars

Last night. One of the most beautiful nights I can ever recall here. Ever. Ever. It got very cool and very clear, and the stars were completely brilliant and there were millions of them, and there was a breeze, and when I did a devotion for a Tacoma cabin, them and I sitting around the campfire in the middle of the village, we could hear - when we went silent - the sound of the wind in the leaves of the beech trees above us and actually the sound of the river well down the valley below us. It was that clear and that silent. This was at 11:30 PM or so (yes, devotions for Tacoma can go late).

The evening had started with a special combo Challenge Night (a first, in my memory): Outpost and Pac. They worked and played really well together. I assembled a terrific roster of guest judges and that added to the creative flavor of the evening. In one of the two photos below you can see all of them, from left to right: Shawn Blagmon, Katie Kelly, Matt Buzcek, Doug Kallin, Peter Owen, and Sandy Shapiro Bohn.

I have to say something about Katie Kelly here, because I don't think I've mentioned her yet in my posts. She was a camper in Susky in 1985, my last summer as director. She grew up through the ranks and became a VC of Tacoma and then for several summers an assistant Hird director, and later she worked full-time for Frost Valley as our alumni

affairs coordinator, but now, this summer, she's back, here and there. She spent a good part of session 1 with us and found a way to be back for a week this session too. She's such a good presence. This time she brought with her a stack of mint-condition Tacoma weekly schedules from the mid-1990s. And modestly asked Lesley, the Tacoma VC for 2012, if she might want to look them over. And did she! She also taught them an old Tacoma song that they'll sing together at Closing Campfire.

After Challenge Night Matt and I chatted about his time here (1996-2005, I think) and the changes and not-changes. And then we went over to the Wellness Center to find Dan Weir. I was astonished and in a weird way delighted by how busy the Wellness Center was. It was already around 10:15 PM. The game "French Revolution" or "French Rev," played at night in the dark, will cause a sprained ankle or wrist, and there were a few of those. Another little guy had twisted a knee. My favorite medical thingy of the
evening was the bite suffered by a counselor possibly from a "yellow-sac spider" (so the EMT on duty speculated - he'd done some research). This thing was amazing. On its own the dime-sized fluid-filled spot on her ankle has burst and she was being cleaned and bandaged and she and we were happily ready to put the spider encounter behind her. The EMT was fascinated and on his iPad showed me photos of it earlier in the day. Some people react strongly to the bite of this particular spider and that's why there had been so much attention paid to it through the day. But this spider-bitten person was going to be completely fine, and quickly. [Today, the next day, Dr. Rick Kaskel was checking in with some kind of federal toxic spider center in Arizona to see if this incidence is something we need to report.]

Vince O'Donnell, a talented Pac counselor who had led his village at Challenge Night in the absence of his VC (VC night out), had been so ill during the evening program that he kept taking breaks. When we got to the Wellness Center later, there was Vince, waiting to talk to one of the six or seven medical staff there about what might be done to get him ready for Olympics the next morning. (Five minutes before I sat down to write this entry, the next morning, I saw Vince, a head coach of South Africa, out there in the sunny field, banging a drum and leading a brilliant S.A. cheer that required tremendous feats of dancing and drumming. I asked him how he felt, and he looked at me with a funny ironic smile and shouted not to me but to the blue sky above: "I feel GREEEEEAAATTT!" Ah, camp.)

It was so busy that Tammey McCloud, our amazing Wellness Center director, came in just to keep the traffic moving along. What amazed me was that no one was complaining about the quality of attention they were receiving and - this really makes me happy - the medical people completely accepted the presence and talky help of various staff including directors and one bearded trustee and one very happy-to-be-back former Director of Camping. At one point I sat with Aidyn Gold as he was treated for a sprained wrist (which was eventually splinted and off he went into the night back to the cabin). Aidyn was a little upset about his injury and I reminded him of all the times his father, Adam, then a young camper, was injured and how much he complained at such moments. Aidyn thought that was great and smiled a big smile at participating in the family tradition.

I looked at my watch and, as much as I was enjoying this extra evening program being played by a village-sized gathering of slightly injured and ill people, I realized it was time to walk up to Tacoma for the devotion. I joined them at the fire-ring. Claire and Shannon were the counselors (I've known them both - and Shannon is in fact the daughter of my neighbors at home in Philadelphia) and the kids were really ready for a sentimental story. And I surely did give them that. I told them about the most important summer of my life - Lenape, 1968. I won't tell that story here, but suffice to say: it really did change me. I met someone that summer who made me realize I should take none of this - these stars, this breeze, the sound of this river heard far off in the silent dark night - for granted. And then the counselors and girls spoke and we held hands (really! - twice!) and said goodnight and promised we'd all really try to experience this fully.

Then Matt and I began walking around. It was 11:45 PM. We walked and talked along the paths between and among the villages under the stars. Matt, who had lived here year-round for several years, talked about the brilliance of the stars as if seeing them for the first time - in awe. I was in awe of his being in awe. We joined the Outpost CQ fire. They were going to grill some burgers on a make-shift grill (an aluminum pan that had carried some chocolate brownies) but we left before it was time to eat. Then we went back to Tacoma, and by now the same fire that had lit my emotional conversation with that Tacoma cabin was now fueling the conversation and late-night snack of the Tacoma staff. They were grilling flat pita-like rounds of bread and melting spicy jack cheese on them. They offered Matt and me one of these grilled-cheesy confections each, and though I wasn't hungry I had one and loved it. The bread was crunchy and one could taste the taste of firewood and hot stone. As I munched, I took in the conversation and I overheard them talking about how much fun it was learning about old Tacoma from Katie Kelly and much they were getting from seeing her old weekly schedules. Naturally they wanted to know more about the previous generations and Matt and I were happy to oblige. At a few minutes after 1 am I drove home slowly and kept looking out and up through my front windshield. All the stars were up there, leading me in a certain direction.