Summer Is On It's Way
Every camp professional has a camper they never forget. (Or more)
Here’s what I know. As this summer season starts, you are going to find a camper (or more) who sticks in your mind for the next 45 years.
It has been my passion to work in summer camps and outdoor environmental education. Let me tell you about these campers.
“Dirt.” He asked to be called that when he arrived at camp. When campers got off the bus, they would walk up to the campfire circle with their bag lunches while their luggage was offloaded from the buses and the outgoing campers’ luggage would get loaded onto the same buses.
When the incoming campers arrived at the campfire, they would be greeted by myself (I was the program director at that time) and several other staff. While they ate their lunches and drank their first taste of “Bug Juice” that had been thoughtfully prepared by our food service team, I would share with the incoming group, “They squeeze the juice from all the bugs.”
I would review the camp rules, ask who had been to camp before, and ultimately dismiss them by cabin group once I had the all clear that the outgoing group had departed by bus.
It was in the introductions that Dirt made himself known. At that camp, “camp names” were part of the culture. Folks called me “ALF,” who had been a popular TV show and also happened to be my initials. We had Two Tall, Chuck, WingNut, Red, and so many more.
When I asked if anyone had any questions, Dirt stood up and told everyone that his name was “Dirt” and he would only answer to that name. As young as he was, it seemed that he immediately understood that he could reinvent himself at camp and be the best version of himself.
And he was the best version of the best camper you can imagine. Throughout the session, DIRT cheered everyone on, was always first to volunteer for anything, and helped others be the better version of themselves. So much so that one Hike Day (Wednesday) he informed “Red” that he really wanted to stay another session.
We made these arrangements and obtained permission from his guardian for Dirt to stay another session. Red would escort Dirt from the departing group to the arriving group. At that camp, we had a no deadhead bus policy to save on bus costs, and the incoming group would always ride up to camp on the same buses that the departing group would take. So, the time in between was less than an hour as groups transitioned.
It was during this time and while Dirt was at archery (where Red led the activity) that Dirt’s story emerged. For those of us old enough, Dirt’s life was like an ABC afterschool special. (A series of hour-long stories of young people whose lives were challenged by hardship.)
“Red” was a college student and he wanted to help and support Dirt. Red’s own story had faced difficulties and hardship. There was a time later that summer that Red attempted to become a foster parent and take “Dirt” in. As it turned out, at that time, single male foster parents were not allowed and Red’s plans fell apart.
Five Siblings (in foster care) at Camp Edwards. San Bernardino County, California is the single largest county (land-wise) in the 50 states. My camp at that time had arrangements with the foster care system to bring in campers to our different sessions of camp. Over those summers, we had youth who came from every corner of that county.
The oldest brother was 13. Then there were the 10 and 11-year-old sisters, an 8-year-old brother, and a 6-year-old brother. There were three social workers between them and only the 10 and 11-year-olds were in the same foster home. They lived hours apart in different schools and had been separated for three years.
Our camp registrar (EJ) brought them to my attention in the late spring when she discovered that they were all siblings and challenged me with, “What are you going to do about it?” It was a statement more than a question. EJ had already coordinated with the social workers that these siblings needed to be at camp at the same time.
I really had very little to do because they had everything put together and I just needed to sign off on the financial assistance allocation for these five young people.
The camp had a tradition of having an after-dinner program and campfire nearly every night of the week with the exception of the Thursday evening dance night. Our nurse (Jackie, not the TV show), EJ, and our program director, Brian, had already arranged for the five siblings to spend that time at the health lodge for that hour or so each evening. Those six hours for those camp sessions for three years were the only time that the siblings had together as a family all year.
Girl with cigarette burns. My first year at Indian Springs was tumultuous. So many things did not go right and there were so many challenges. Savannah was not one of those challenges. She was a great leader who had grown up at the camp and came back that year as a cabin leader and activity staff. It was clear that Savannah grew up without financial challenges. Everyone has their hills to climb, and I don't want folks to think that Savannah was in any way elitist. She had a heart for children and really wanted to make a difference.
The girl was part of her cabin the very first week of that summer. She was shy and quiet. We had arranged for her to attend through her social worker and found the funds to make sure she had everything she needed to attend camp. The first morning of the first full day of camp, I would check in with leaders about their first night. Savannah indicated that this girl was really shy and hardly spoke.
The highlight of Indian Springs was the spring itself. The entire afternoon block was spent in and around the water. Swimming, canoeing, kayaking, diving, the water slide, and even underwater basket weaving. It was Florida, and afternoons needed water to keep things cool. And the spring was a year-round 72 degrees.
On Tuesday afternoon, Savannah came rushing to the office to talk to me. There were tears in her eyes. She went on to explain that the girl camper had been swimming but always wore a T-shirt over her bathing suit. Savannah thought it was part of her shyness. It was after spring time when they went to the shower room that she saw the girl remove her T-shirt and immediately noticed the various cigarette burns on her back.
Savannah had never seen anything like this and, as part of our abuse awareness training, came to me at the first opportunity to file the report. We followed the procedures and within half an hour we were both speaking to the social worker. The burns were nearly a month old or older and the girl had indeed been removed from the abusive household and placed in foster care.
The unfortunate part for Savannah was that the system did not allow for that information to be shared with us prior to camp. (A story for another time.)
Savannah did get the girl to open up and be a part of camp and felt safe enough to talk to other campers in her cabin. Nothing negative was shared or disclosed, other than she ended up having a positive experience in a safe space.
Camper with chicken in his pockets. Tuesday nights were always baked chicken night at Weona. Lunch, of course, had been “Taco Tuesday.” Eric came to me during dinner and needed to speak with me outside the dining hall. We went out the back kitchen door so campers would not notice our conversation.
He told me that one of his campers had had a piece of chicken and when seconds was called he asked for more. Eric watched this very small camper for his age put two pieces of chicken in his pockets and tried not to let anyone notice. Having never had this situation come up, Eric asked how he should confront the camper.
I suggested that he not confront him at all. I asked him if he would point out the camper and let me know if he could get an open space at the table across from him so I could join them. It was not uncommon for me to sit with different groups throughout meals. We went back in and the LIT for the cabin was across from that camper. The LIT support staff (director) called all the LITs for their evening planning session, so the seat opened up.
“How was dinner?” I asked him as soon as I sat down.
“Really good, I like the chicken best.”
“Did you get enough?”
He looked down into his lap when I asked. I waited a few moments for a response. I then added in, “If you get hungry later, you can always get more, you just have to let Eric know.” Still no response.
“Do you know who I am and what my job is?”
He looked up and said, “You’re the camp director.”
“My job is to make sure that all the campers here are safe and having a good time.”
Still no answer.
“Do you think you could help me do that?”
He looked up and had a quizzical look.
“I need your help with you and everyone in Eric’s cabin. Do you remember the rule from the first day about snacks in the cabins?”
“Yes.” I got a nod and an answer.
“Well, that goes for any food from the dining hall as well.”
With that, he took the drumsticks out of his pockets and placed them back on the table.
He whispered, “It’s not for me.”
It took some back and forth, but ultimately he said that there was always so much food, he didn’t think anyone would notice. He wanted to take the food home for his brother who couldn’t come to camp. I asked Eric to join us and explained that this camper would be picking things from the kitchen each day and we would put it in an ice chest at the end of the session for him to take home to his brother.
I wonder about where life has taken these young people. I have been so fortunate to have many campers and staff team members reach out over the years via social media and reconnect. I do not recall their names other than Dirt, which was his camp name. If I were an artist, I could draw or paint their faces.
If my math is correct, Dirt is 47 now. The oldest of the five siblings is 39. The young lady from Indian Springs is 34, and the young camper from Weona is now 29.
I know that they all had exceptional experiences at camp.
And exceptional means that they had the opportunity to just be kids and enjoy camp.
Have a service filled summer.
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