When it's someone's birthday here, we convene....The Order of the Oar. "We are we are we are we are the Order of the Oar - HEY! - We are we are we are we are the Order of the Oar!" - and around the dining hall snakes a Conga line of counselors until they reach the intended celebrant. He or she - in this case, she: Lakota counselor Meghan Foley - is surrounded by hastily summoned members of the Order. They bring her forward. A kind director tells the dining hall full of children - some of them a little worried about what's about to happen - that it's Meghan's birthday and that she has "chosen" to be celebrated in this way. Then some honoree (in this case the birthday girl's brother, Alex Foley) holds the oar above and the birthday celebrant gets tossed into the air - right up against the oar - as many times as she is years old. My video here missed the singing of the preliminary song, but you get the rest. Anyone among the FV lifers who has a summertime birthday knows exactly what this is all about. Stay tuned for the end, when Meghan is called upon to do the Hula Hop. Fun.
Search This Blog
blog archive
-
▼
2012
(150)
-
▼
July
(72)
- Geronimo with Forest!
- Tom Cometa's son
- Al Chrone, helped Wawayanda in early FV days, has ...
- Glenn Kreismer
- ....and another Eufemia (well, Italiano)
- alumni children abound
- core values - yes, they take them home
- a plea for Pigeon Brook
- session done
- from Darfur to Adventure Village
- Natasha's daugther Natasha
- from the Castle porch: storm brewing
- stars in the sky
- Olympics - closing ceremonies
- dialysis program
- the Wawayanda Mile - more Olympics
- Castle chefs and service staff, early 1960s
- Olympic day
- still tired, often sunburned - but happy being at ...
- Del Giannotti
- a long story about a night of a million stars
- wellness center thrives (& not for bad reasons)
- dusk in Filreis Field
- Sacky sings Winehouse on a cloudy afternoon
- put your mother on the ceiling
- coaches from South Africa
- same old view from the enormous porch
- rest hour with Pokey
- Olympics: opening ceremonies
- Olympics 2012 - pre-games Sunday afternoon round-up
- first day of Olympics, 2012 - a visit to Japan
- finding Brad Swain at the top of Giant Ledge
- your Outpost VC, unique but ever the same
- the Vescio boys are back - no, their kids are
- Biscuit Creek repairs, continued
- put your mother on the ceiling
- another former FV'er remembering us on Facebook
- almost didn't post this, but heck, it's camp
- Geronimo at the Farm (first ever?)
- Windsong out
- new Brady bunch
- Jon MIttelman
- gardens at the Farm
- reading a poem at Sunday "chapel," early 1970s
- bicentennial July 4 stage show (along with a note ...
- breakfast with Pokey
- of wax apples, body contortions & surprising victo...
- even at the end of session 1, saying goodbye is ha...
- Monica moves up
- Outpost at hoopla (turn your volume low)
- found sculpture in the dining hall
- luggage gathering at the end of session 1
- here come the buses...are they late? are they comi...
- the Order of the Oar
- boys dance unshyly
- Lion Hunt 2010
- Geronimo with Lenape
- a new Gansler
- passing as counselors
- Biscuit Creek and vicinity nearly a year after the...
- hunker hawser redux
- Farm Camp is hiring now
- hoopla after lunch
- Susky at rest hour
- Kirk Fleischauer, rest in peace
- Frost Valley'ers in France
- so many of our children are here
- gladly give a summer
- morning at the western entrance
- staff photo 2012
- alumni show up at session 1 check-in
- 2012 staff lip dub
-
▼
July
(72)
summer camp blog
about Al
why do this?
It seemed time to gather together photos and recordings. I'd always hesitated because I didn't want to imply that my own take was definitive. The blog--the medium of the blog--seems the right combination of diary-like subjectivity (blog readers simply know this is the blogger talking) and a communal forum for various perspectives and multiple stories.
Castle depicted in old postcard
get email updates from this blog
If a new entry is added on any day, you will receive a brief email notice of it.
new at my blog
Wawayanda chapel in early July
Old Wawayanda
When I die let my ashes
flow down Biscuit River,
let 'em roll on in water
the color of sky.
I'll be halfway to heaven
at a New Wawayanda,
saying "Wawayanda spirit
it never did die."
flow down Biscuit River,
let 'em roll on in water
the color of sky.
I'll be halfway to heaven
at a New Wawayanda,
saying "Wawayanda spirit
it never did die."
in memoriam alumni tree
planted at September 2006 reunion
links
sunset at Friendship House
Al's hand-motion antics at opening campfire
Frost Valley
is a place where good things happen when people pay attention to each other. There’s endless beauty here - the high meadows, blankets of evergreens, and pristine brook trails – and you can meet nature in all its forms. But more than that, it’s a place where our ties to friends and family are strengthened. When a community of people came to the Catskills to build Frost Valley, they had in mind a place where you can sit next to someone you think you know, and then really get to know them. It also happens to be where the everyday light and shadow is enough to inspire artists; where American fly-fishing was born; and where today, a quarter million acres of green forests still remain “forever wild.” At Frost Valley, where we are does have an effect on how we treat each other. Here, a family can relearn what “family style” means as they share a meal together. The rose-gray river stones in the hearths and chimneys around camp reflect the colors of nearby Biscuit Creek and pull you into the surroundings. If you need more reasons why it’s so special here, we encourage you to explore citizen science activities during every season. But you don’t have to, because you might have more fun just learning silly camp songs. And by the end of your stay, when you your family and newly found friends are composting like pros together, everyone becomes richer, including next year’s butterfly garden.
after lunch, inevitably Dave King
...and if I could transport myself
not just back to this place, but to a certain moment in my personal history here, it would perhaps be:
end of lunch on any July day in 1968, and Dave King (our camp director) walks to the center of the dining hall, without microphone, and without introduction of any kind begins to lead one of the 25 or so camp songs we sang in those days. He is the maestro, waving one arm to the rhythm we are to follow and with the other arm, at turns, directing us to sing quietly or loudly or pointing toward some one camper who isn't singing or (rarely) is talking. And it's "Young Folks Old Folks" or "Zum Gali Gali" or "Deep and Wide" and I look down to the end of the table at my counselor and he's singing too, no hesitation, not too old for this, totally entranced and I myself turn my gaze back toward Dave....
Okay, I ache for that. Not being young again, not quite. More like being momentarily again part of such harmony.
end of lunch on any July day in 1968, and Dave King (our camp director) walks to the center of the dining hall, without microphone, and without introduction of any kind begins to lead one of the 25 or so camp songs we sang in those days. He is the maestro, waving one arm to the rhythm we are to follow and with the other arm, at turns, directing us to sing quietly or loudly or pointing toward some one camper who isn't singing or (rarely) is talking. And it's "Young Folks Old Folks" or "Zum Gali Gali" or "Deep and Wide" and I look down to the end of the table at my counselor and he's singing too, no hesitation, not too old for this, totally entranced and I myself turn my gaze back toward Dave....
Okay, I ache for that. Not being young again, not quite. More like being momentarily again part of such harmony.
save Frost Valley's Monarchs
ache
"The blog is awesome - I just went back through the whole thing again. I'll say this without shame - I ache for Frost Valley. I spend a lot of time and cerebral metabolism trying to devise a way I can get back up there for a session...."
waterfront 1961
looking in the direction of Wildcat Mtn. and the boathouse (which is off to the left)
definition of "Village Chief"
Village Chief \vil aj cheef\ n: An overworked, underpaid, camp official expected to be everything to everyone, including, but not limited to, Counselor, Mediator, Motivator, Programmer, Administrator, Police Officer, Caretaker, and Supervisor, all while maintaining good working relationships with parents, campers, counselors and support staff, and without whom any summer camp would struggle to function adequately.
Wawayanda flag raising
July 2006
Dot Conklin
is an original Catskills denizen. She has family scattered all across the region, she knows all the old stories about one-room schoolhouses, what this Claryville house was used for in the old days, and so on. Dot was the first recipient of a recent annual staff award, and when she received this honor everyone stood and applauded, tears in their eyes. Finally a chance to recognize a true community elder - hard working, honest, a kind & beautiful soul. [LINK]
