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.

CQ grilling

Gorgeous night last night. All the stars, very cool temperatures: into the 40s. I was "on call"--which means that I was one of two folks whose responsibility it was to check every village at curfew (1 AM) to make sure all campers are accounted for and safe and that all staff are back in the village. It's a long night. Fortunately Rafik Ghobrial (Egypt; VC Forest; late 70s) was willing to walk around with me much of the night, and Dave Sacker (80s/90s) was willing to stay until the end (along with Allye Glicker who was the other On Call director). We stopped at six or seven bustling CQ fires. At Lakota the staff were grilling - at a relatively new or (anyway) previously little-used campfire site a little down the steep hill from 41-45. Roasted veggies (peppers of various colors), burgers, and a few other late-night niceties. Listen closely to the sound track of this video clip and you'll hear (and maybe even see) a burger fall into the fire, whereupon the intrepid Lakota counselor rescued it from the coals and put it back on the grill. Then Sacker's comment, then mine. And listen to the random half-sentence chatter going on around. Though it's a very short clip, anyone who's ever sat CQ will instantly remember the classic quality of this scene.

the tale of the midnight Jeffburger

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.

What a night for Sacky and Hemlock and Lakota and Outpost and Mini-Mac to hike out to their overnights. Chris Harper and I took a little walk to CIT Point where Mini-Mac was cooking hot-rock pizzas while the sun was setting behind them across the lake. The "crust" seems to be a flour tortilla and the toppings are tomato sauce, shredded mozzarella cheese and pepperoni. Lay the concoction on a flat rock set at the edge of the fire and (carefully now!--don't burn yourself) rotate the crust around every few minutes until the cheese is melted and the sauce steams up a little. Then serve a happy camper.

Chris and I had set up Challenge Night in Geyer Hall (old Girls' Dining Hall) for Forest and Susky and Sunburst, and then gathered wood for a fire at a little used fire-ring way up above Hirdstock Field and below Turrell Lodge - where Pac would gather much later for a story.

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.

Then it was down to the lower floor of Geyer (formerly Conover English Hall) to tell a story - "Sawmill, 1958" - to Forest.

After that I met Pac at the great infrequently used campfire site and told a story to them too. It was a perfect storytelling situation: these 15-year-old boys were totally attentive, stars above us, good fire, and a view of the lake to our west.

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.

I dare you to be insanely dedicated

Being "on call" can be a lonely late-night business. The summer camp directors here rotate through a two-week schedule; each night two of them - or others at that level of experience/responsibility - walk around, walkie-talkies at the belt, and check out every village and most of the main camp buildings, usually finishing at 2 AM. Last night Jeff Daly, our Director of Camping, the big mahaff, contemplated his on-call night ahead and decided to call his old pal Brian Butler, and said on the phone: "I dare you to drive up here and join me for on-call tonight." It was 9 pm. Butler had done a long day's work in New Jersey. He had to be back in the morning for another work day. His days' off are limited and anyway he was in a company car. But, being Butler (the title of this blog entry should really be "Being Butler"), he took the dare, and drove up. Arrived at 11:15 or so. They joined Dan Weir, just back from his own day off, for a bit of grilled steak and pre-On Call warm-ups. I was driving by, on my way back from a CQ fire, having told stories to Forest and then Outpost, and noticed the little steak-smelling cozy enclave. Stopped and there was Butler. The conversation that followed has been recorded and I present it feelingfully here. Have a listen, and I'm going to suggest that you follow your dearest friends' dares, wherein a night's happiness lies.

CQ redux

Today's blog entry on the CQ fire stirred up a good many memories, to judge from the emails I've been receiving. Below is D'Arcy Oaks' response:

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"Your post about CQ etc. got to me. I remember those things, and I want to be there, and I am sentimental now having read that. Your explanation of that "cycle" of the camper taking risks by being uncool and ridiculous which generates some loyalty from peers which promotes the ridiculous to cool seemed emblematic of similar cycles I would see at FV. Your description of that night time scramble for some social interaction with adults even though its raining, yet the adults still talk about "work", which is about how the campers are doing, seems representative of a daily occurrence during my tenure at FV. Your discussion of how to deal with the logistics when things like the weather intervene reminds me of how Carrie and I had to scramble to make a plan B (as CIT coordinators) in 1997 after Ranger Patty kicked us out of the state park for sleeping too close to the stream the night previous. Your description of the moodiness of the Sacky village converting to unity and team spirit reminds me of something people would say at FV in the 90's: a day Frost Valley is like a week in real life. Something that happened mid-afternoon becomes a distant memory for a staff member by the time CQ begins.

"I loved CQ. In 1990 as a Hemlock JC I remember the staff frequently being around CQ when not assigned. We got the campers to sleep, we could have gone to staff lounge, we had spent the day around each other, yet we hung out at CQ. We were located in that middle cabin grouping, between "The Hill" and the Dining Hall/Outtrip road, cabins 36 - 40, and that fire ring is a good one, for you can face the ravine thus reducing the risk of keeping campers up when you are talking. That summer, for us, it was backgammon and Billy Idol, and, well, some visits from raccoons, that characterized the Hemlock CQ. Bill Baker, Mark Hanna, Josh Tucker, Wentworth Miller, and David O'Brian (VC) were amongst the Hemlock staff that summer. Sometimes we'd complain, sometimes we'd talk about our lives, sometimes we'd bond, but a lot of times we'd strategize about how to make tomorrow's experience better for Hemlock campers. So your post reminds me of that kind of thing: enjoying working, enjoying your co-workers, helping kids have good experiences. Nice memories."

CQ fire after a very rainy day

It was the third night of camp and they wanted more than anything to build a CQ fire. But everything was wet, from an afternoon of torrential storms and a damp drizzly evening. It wasn't raining now, at 11:30, but was there any dry wood? Did anyone have a flashlight handy? And of course they were exhausted from a very long although super-successful day. There was the moment when the severe thunder-and-lightning storm hit; the network of radio- and intercom-connected directors somehow induced everyone, in 40 places, to stay indoors and not to move from one place to another. That meant, to take one instance, that Forest, Pac and Mac Boys were in the main room of Margetts Lodge together. What to do there? Instant activity. Plenty of energy on this third day of the session, but somehow it got used and also contained while outside it stormed. But then the CITs were supposed to begin their long out-trip. Word came back: they had made it out in time and were on their way to their first overnight which would, thankfully, be in a lean-to. Okay, but Pac and Windsong had their two-nighter planned. They were put on hold for now. At 4:30 we managed a hilarious hour-long game of Geronimo indoors for Forest. What is it about 10-year-old boys who prefer to slide along the floor and not make it to an empty seat? The staff, instead of being annoyed, fell off their own chairs in laughter. Tom from Liverpool exhausted himself running inside the circle as his colleagues Alan and Dave and Sam bandied about each other's names. Tom, not a big smiler but obviously a sweet man, smiled broadly when he finally got out of that jam. Dusk came and more iffy weather, but Sacky and Hemlock, who'd had perhaps a semi-challenging day, a few possible "mean girls" who needed to start accepting others soon, one possibly homesick kid, some needless running around in the rain, maybe a dose of impatience, came together indoors for Challenge Night, in the new theatre, and found their unified spirit, cheering each other, giving a standing ovation to one girl who didn't want to sing a song competitively but was willing to do so when no one else on her team would. She fake-sang a silly song but did it bravely, and then stopped--whereupon silence, and then a standing ovation for the cool girl who might not normally, in real life at home, ever submit herself to potential ridicule, being so uncool as to sacrifice her cool for her new friends. Thus the new friends were more friends now than they had been so far. The whole thing has a circular, building, self-pride-making effect. Back out into the cold dark rainy night. Next thing you know it's 11:30 and there's no dry wood. Ah, but some dry logs were stowed, wisely, under the lodge. Scott Lodge, named for Charles R. Scott, Wawayanda's first director. Maybe that has something to do with the outdoorsy foresight. Retrieve those logs, pull off some slivers of kindling, find some paper memos and a bit of cardboard, search for and find the lighter, and now out to the sopping wet fire-ring. Yes it had been a long day and the better part of valor, which is discretion, would be to go to sleep and hope the next day brought sun, and the next night, not this one, a CQ fire and a session of good old-fashioned talk around the fire among colleagues. No, now. Real valor was in that sitting 'round. One holds the light, one scrounges for "little stuff" notwithstanding its wetness, one lights the lighter. Tiny little stuff and two huge but dry logs. That's it. Once the fire is seen by others, the others start showing up. It's midnight. Is this the only CQ fire going? But it's barely going. Alan, with his huge lung capacity, shows up from Forest, attracted to the firelight. He blows and blows and the two dry logs burst into flames. We find another log, damp but not sopped, and it gets put alongside the others, to warm and dry, and eventually on top. Four or five more show up. Quiet talk of the day. This kid had trouble getting to sleep but is soundly sleeping now. This one had a much better day than yesterday; he's going to make it, we think. That one keeps asking pointless questions but we answer them all as patiently as possible. And lots of silence. Then several meandering quiet conversations at once. We are warmed by the fire although all the scrounging around in the wet old charred wood and smoke having been blown over our clothes has made everything we're wearing smell that campfire smell, which will be with us tomorrow. One counselor had had his first shower in several days but now he too smelled like campfire. He had his burger patties out, and skillet at the ready, but at 12:45 AM, with 1 AM curfew coming soon, the burgers would have to wait until tomorrow night. Tomorrow night. Maybe the fire would start easier. But if it didn't, there would still be this talk, this family of unlike people gathered around like a family at the end of a family's day, telling of the little things that add up to an almost cosmic whole. We wandered backed to our various beds, dampness in the rooms, and looked at watches and clocks. The month had turned. July 1.

cold shower technique for learning Greek

Hemlock, cabin 24, 1964. Back row: Jim VanZant, Fred Partridge, Pete Trias. Sitting on railing: R. Cantor, D.P. Blackford, A. Pinderhughes, Geoffrey Hazel. Sitting on the ground: S. Umberger, Greg Peach. Counselor: T. Brown.

Geoff Hazel remembers: "At night, the counselors would leave and we'd all stay up swapping stories and jokes (yeah, I don't think we want to get into what those jokes were, now do we?). Anyway, sometimes we'd get a little loud, and at least once every 2 weeks, our counselor would barge in and we'd each have to sit in the shower, with the cold water running, and recite the Greek alphabet. And since he was in the Omega fraternity, we'd have to say Omega about 10 times. It was kinda fun, and I learned the Greek alphabet along the way."