The Special Sauce of a Camp Reunion

I have been writing this blog for a year or so and the topic that always seems to fly off my pen (or keyboard) is camp.  Now there are camp people in the world and there are people who have not yet become camp people.  But this story is about a reunion.  This was not just any reunion, mind you, but the 100th anniversary of my summer camp in Vermont.  The camp is Aloha Hive and it is a camp for young girls from age 8 to 12.  There is a sister camp nearby called Aloha Camp for older girls and a boys camp called Lanakila.  My grandmother was a camper in the very early days of these camps and since that time three more generations of our family have come to spend their summers in this beautiful setting, away from the hustle and bustle of their busy lives to learn new skills, to live in a supportive community and to "become their best selves"  I ponder this and reflect on the title of my blog-  Remember What You Know: Musings on Creativity, Generosity and Being Your Best Self. Well imagine that?  I wonder where I got that idea?  That being your best self thing.  Oh right, that was probably at camp.  But back to the reunion.

The reunion this past weekend was such an incredible celebration of friendship and place and community.  It brought together decades of women with their spouses, and children and friends.  There was a great showing from almost every decade, including a new crop of soon-to-be camp parents.  They have their babies in tow now but one certainly hopes that those babies will be lucky enough to spend their summers at this magical place as well.  There was a spirited and energetic staff who stayed after camp, when many counselors go home to collapse for a few days and rest up.  But not  this group.  These counselors brought the same wonderful energy to the activities of the weekend as they no doubt brought to the kids who were in their care this summer.

So I reflect on the power of a place that brings people back over the decades.  Many of us have gone to a high school reunion or a college reunion.  I have had a blast at every reunion I've ever been to.  But high school and college were a 4 year chapter in my life.  I was there and then I wasn't.  Those friendships were special and carry wonderful memories with them but they are not quite the same as the friendships that I have made at camp.  Maybe it's the fact that we really do create our own community in Vermont without all of the trappings and distractions of technology and work and the demands of raising a family.  For young counselors, when they come to camp for the summer, they leave behind their friends and the typical college scene that is mostly about them.  When you come to be a camp counselor during your college years, you find yourself thinking about the children in your care instead of yourself.  You are giving yourself to something much bigger which is surprisingly rewarding for many young adults.

The weekend was a cavalcade of memory-inducing moments.  There was the candle-lit banquet on Friday night with lovely music and great conversation.   There were the activities that we once loved- archery and arts and crafts and swimming across the lake or paddling our canoes.  There was rest hour on Saturday after lunch.  Anyone who knows me or has read this blog knows that I am a big fan of rest hour.  There was a hike up to special spot in the woods and a campfire with stories and songs.  It was so special by that campfire that nobody wanted to leave, despite the growing darkness.  And then there was a fabulous talent show.  One of my favorite stories of the talent show was from the husband of one of the former directors of the camp who was there with her teen-aged children.  From all accounts they were stunned to see their Mom acting in a skit, sporting a sequined gown and acting very silly. This was not the Mom that they knew.  I love that.  Because at camp, we can be as silly as we want to be.  We thrive on that.  We celebrate it and we realize that without even knowing it, we are becoming our best selves.

On Sunday, we gathered once more to reflect, to sing and to hear from former and present camp directors.  We were inspired by their tales of the footprint that this place is creating in the world.  This is not the only camping organization that is turning out fine people but it is certainly one of the ones leading the way.  The women who have lead this camp are all extraordinary in their own unique ways.  There are of course some extraordinary men who are part of the story as well, but this weekend was mostly about the women.  And for me and my daughter and my friends who have experienced this place, that is a gift.  To follow these women and to feel confident and important in the world.  To feel that we are capable and open-hearted and willing to take on new adventures. To know that we will try new things and push ourselves and be part of something much bigger.  That is the gift of this place and that was the gift and the special sauce of this weekend.

So next time you think about going to a camp reunion, just do it.  You'll be happy you did.

Confessions of a Cry Baby

Sometimes the world feels like a really sad place.  This week a dear friend's Mom passed away and I attended her funeral.  She had lived a very long and rich life and was celebrated for that.  I shed lots of tears at the funeral.  Not so much for the extraordinary woman who had passed,  but for her family, her children, the fragile relationships that hold them all together.  I cried because life really is too short.

And then this morning we all awoke to the news of Robin William's passing.  What a loss.  What a tragedy.  I am so so sad that his life ended so abruptly at such a young age.  So I cry for him and for  those of us who will miss his gifts his extraordinary talent.

I cry a lot.  I cry, not because I am falling apart, but I cry because I feel deeply.  Some people don't know what to make of my tears.  There are those who misinterpret them.   There is a classic story that took place when I interviewed at the company where I now work.  When my company hires executives they do a very exhaustive process of vetting the candidate, complete with a set of personality tests and assessment tools.  They want to dig deep and know what they are getting.

This process culminated in an interview with a psychologist who administered the tests.  This interview lasted a full three hours and really delved into a lot of personal information about my successes and stumbles both in work and in life.  You can probably see where this is going.  As we delved into some of these chapters in my life,  I, as I am wont to do, shed a tear or two.  I didn't blubber.  I didn't sob.  I just reconnected with some old wounds that made me cry.  I pulled myself together fairly quickly and explained it away by admitting that I occasionally shed a tear or two, no big deal.  I mean we had been talking for almost three hours.
 The psychologist then asked me how I felt about his sharing what had happened in his reporting of the interview.   He offered to hold back the details of my emotional moment but I said- what the heck.  Open the door.  Share what you want.  This is who I am.

Well here is where the story gets interesting. As the interview process progressed, my tears became "a thing".  They were discussed.  There was concern that I would be discovered in my office in a pool of tears when things did not go according to plan.  There was concern that I would fall apart when they needed me to be strong.  This line of thinking was only exasperated when one of my references, a fabulous former boss, in the course of giving me a glowing reference, shared that he and I had cried together no less than five times.  I'm not actually sure if that was true but what I do know was that he and I had a very close and strong friendship and while we enjoyed working together, we also often talked about life, about things that had nothing to do with the workplace.  This. my friends, is when I cry.  I don't cry about work.  I cry about life.  I cry about dying and suffering.  I cry about babies and puppies.   I pretty reliably cry at weddings. I cry when I feel deep compassion for the people in my life and their joys and their struggles.

There was a time when I apologized for this tendency.  I apologized for making people feel uncomfortable.  But here's what I've learned.  People are usually uncomfortable when you are uncomfortable.  If all I'm doing is experiencing something fully and deeply, then lucky me.  If you are someone who has seen me weep, please don't assume that I am falling apart.  Consider instead that I am  living as fully as I can.  I'll take that any day.