The Boys & Girls of Summer
I had never owned a pair of chacos before.
When I think back on the greatest summer of my life this
seems the most irrelevant fact to first disclose. As my two months working at Camp
moved along, I learned many things; about myself, other people, and about life
in general. I also learned that what seems insignificant might in fact be more
important than could possibly be imagined. Those silly shoes were the roots of my
transformation this summer. Not just from a physical appearance standpoint, but
also in how I view the world and frankly, the big picture.
---
I bought my chacos the day before I left. Upon arriving,
they only further emphasized my strain to fit the part of outdoorsy dude,
knowing full well that in the not-too distant past I would have much rather
preferred a bag of potato chips in one hand and a PlayStation controller in the
other. I felt like I could handle the “working with kids” portion of the job
description; I love being with kids and making them laugh. It was winning over
my co-counselors and supervisors that I was more concerned about. (If they can
believe that now.) I desperately wanted them to think I was a perfect fit for
this job. I was kind of overwhelmed that first time I drove up Camp Road, what
with the returning counselors there to hound me as a know-nothing newbie moving
in. Now I consider the friends I made with those same counselors to be some of
the best friendships I have on this earth. All it took was a few months living
together among the bugs, and the heat, and the rain.
Fitting then, that as I write this now it’s pouring outside.
Because where would we have been this summer if not underwater. We had to move
the docks at Lake Hartwell in several times, eventually using cinder blocks and
any boards available to create makeshift walkways onto the docks. And by we, I
mean our lovely and wonderful lifeguards and our terrific Camp Ranger. By about the third week we were admittedly worried that our registration
process near the lake would soon take
place under the lake with only a few
more inches of rain; registration to be administered by Aquaman himself. Our
raincoats became our best friends for those couple of months.
---
My first week, in the Pickerel cabin (one of six cabins respectfully
named for our fishy friends), was an experience unlike any other. We had staff
training the previous week, for the benefit of all us first-time newbs, but the
real training began on that first week with our initial group of campers. And I
like to think that my very first week was unique for one main reason. Usually,
a first-time counselor (ie. me) who’s not a specialist (meaning that the
individual teaches an activity) gets paired with a returning counselor. There
are CITs (Counselor in Training) who float around and help out as extra
counselors, albeit without the same responsibilities of a regular, full-blown
counselor. I was paired with a returning female specialist, meaning she couldn’t
stay in our all-boys cabin, as well as a CIT, who traditionally aren’t allowed
to stay in the cabins but in this instance would have to seeing as our final
co-counselor for the week was a fellow newbie counselor thrown into the fire
two days before the first week began. The dude wasn’t even at staff training. LOL. All that craziness made for quite possibly the best week I can imagine.
I learned so much about the job that first week. That week brought
some challenges and it was in those first seven days that I learned to harness the
patience I would so desperately need for the rest of the summer.
I also learned how to love, enable oneself for service, and
give oneself for the betterment of others. I’m not much for emotion or any of
that stuff but I was warned that I would be by the end of the week and boy, were
they not kidding. I was hugging the other counselors and my supervisors and
found myself tearing up like I’d just watched “Marley & Me” over and over.
It was the kids. They tugged at your heart and took a piece of you with them
when they drove down Camp Road and out the front gates.
As I embraced a fellow counselor at the end of the week he
said to me “You were just what those kids needed.” That hit me like a bulldozer
driving atop a freight train; that a guy like me, a goof really, could have
such an impact not just on the kids but also in a fashion that
stuck with another counselor. Little did I know that the emotion I felt that
first week was just a sneak preview for the rest of the summer.
---
The Pittsburgh Pirates are my favorite baseball team. The
rest of my family’s too. They have been for the entire 20 years I’ve been
alive, unfortunately the same time span in which they haven’t been good.
They’ve been terrible in fact. Like "here's-the-bag-you're-gonna-need-to-put-over-your-head" bad. It’s a joke in my family that each day we’ll
wake up and we can count on two things 1) the never-ending sarcasm of the
Castello family and 2) the Pirates losing that day. What I learned this summer
was that sometimes you don’t get the chance to wake up and appreciate those two particulars.
We had known my grandma, Nana, wasn’t doing too well in
recent weeks but I still was not, and don’t think I ever could have been,
prepared for the phone call that Wednesday. It was the second week of Camp. We
don’t have our phones, or any technology for that matter, on or near us at Camp
and so to receive an urgent phone call is, I imagine, somewhat of a big deal. I
can still remember choking up on the phone when my mom informed me that Nana
wouldn’t make it through the week, playing it cool in front of Leslie, my boss,
and then disappearing for a while to the bathroom. Understanding I’d have to
leave my co-counselors and my campers for that week, understanding I’d have to
miss the first part of the next week, understanding I’d have to briefly leave this
great place that had so graciously welcomed and accepted me, plus the underlying fact that
I’d have to go help bury my grandmother made for a crazy concoction of grief
and sadness. I hate admitting it, but I sat there and cried like I was a little kid again.
---
The week away was nice, if that could be said about such an
occasion. My Nana passed peacefully, surrounded by all of her very successful
and tremendously loving sons, my father and uncles. She did a fantastic job
raising them to be fine examples of gentlemen and family men. As gentlemen I
have tried to copy their models in a fashion that could, coincidentally enough,
rub off on my campers as we stressed the importance of being gentlemen at Camp.
We like to think it was a huge blessing for my grandma to see
all her sons, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren before she passed. For a
family of six sons and their wives, plus the 14 grandchildren, including two
families which live far away from her home of Pittsburgh (New York and South
Carolina) this was an achievement in itself. My brother and sister and I were
grateful for the time spent with all our cousins, some we hadn’t seen in years and we tried to make the most out
of the few days we were up there. Nana’s husband, Ray, passed away when I was a
little kid so I never really got the chance to talk with him. But I couldn’t
help but think that the next day after she passed, my grandpa Pap was in for a darn
good breakfast up in Heaven.
And Nana must have put in a good word to the Man Upstairs
about our Pirates losing all the time. They’re currently one of the best teams in
baseball.
---
As I arrived back into camp on Wednesday night after abruptly
sneaking out seven days earlier, I was overwhelmed by the support from
everybody. Every person I ran into gave me a hug and had something nice to say
to me, which spoke great lengths to me about the compassion these people have.
I still have all the little notes and cards I received from throughout the
summer, but none meant as much to me as from that stretch of time. I couldn’t
express to them, not that night nor for the rest of the summer, not even now, how
much that love and thoughtfulness helped me. It was really, really good to be
back.
---
When I think of being thrown into the fray, as I was when I
returned mid-third-week from Pittsburgh, I think of the band, The Fray. What’s
more, The Fray’s hit single “Over My Head” comes to mind when reminiscing on
the week. I took part in Switch Week, transitioning from the underprivileged
and hearing or speech impaired campers of Camp Sertoma to individuals with developmental disabilities from Camp Hope. It was also Camp Hope’s Kid’s Week,
meaning that the campers were a lot younger than in any other week. Boy, was it
a rough three days. Not just for myself but I got that vibe from the other
counselors I worked with as I helped out between two cabins.
I took it on the chin that week, literally at one point when
a camper busted open a bathroom stall door on my face, and one of the cabins I
worked with was overtaken by sickness, some of the campers even having to leave
early. I’m thankful, though, for that opportunity to have switched camps
because it gave me a few days to walk in the shoes of my fellow counselors in
Camp Hope and gave me a glimpse into what they dealt with on a weekly basis.
What’s more, I was glad to be able to strengthen some friendships among the co’s
I worked with that week.
However, having not finished my second week and missing all
of Week 3 across the way, I was ready to get back to Camp Sertoma.
---
It was a gift, thinking back on how perfect that fourth week
was. I worked with one of my co’s from that second week, meaning we had some
unfinished business, and the dude from Week 1 who had arrived two days before
Camp started. It was an absolute blast working with them and I couldn’t have
gotten through it without them. We made some great memories, especially putting
our best efforts into the themes of the day, and were always there for each
other when our campers gave us a hard time. Like on the first morning when it
took us 15 minutes to wake up one of our deaf campers. We were trying
everything from shaking him to the old Inception “Kick,” which required leaning him up and then dropping him to see if it jolted him awake. Just before we
resorted to putting him in the shower, tickling did the trick.
We were sad to see them go on Saturday. But that week, just
like any other, there was a sense of accomplishment in helping our campers have
a great time at camp with their peers, all the while dealing with their many
afflictions and attitudes. It was a good feeling knowing that you were part of
a collective effort to brighten the lives of young people. If only for a few
days.
---
My week in Sunfish, middle-aged boys in camp, was somewhat
of a challenge while perhaps my most enjoyable week, too. Working with one of
my co’s from Week 1 and a new-to-me co and CIT, we laughed a lot that week. And
they can back that up for sure.
On that note, I worked with some absolutely sensational CITs
this summer. The commitment of those individuals is through the roof. They know
exactly what the job demands and what the job can mean having in some instances
been campers themselves. Our CIT this week helped in every way imaginable and
played the role of fun-loving friend and respect-commanding mentor at the same
time. It was awesome to watch him work so well with our kids.
And we had a couple campers who tested our patience, at one
point even prompting me to buy some of them flip-flops at Dollar General to
eliminate the hassle of putting on shoes and socks every time we hit a water
activity on the schedule. We had some comedians in the group and when the
whole cabin was clicking on all cylinders it was a fun to see them having such
a good time. That group loved playing games together and being a friend to each
other. A theme that for me, carried over into my last cabin of the summer.
---
What a group. I think that over and over about that last
Bluegill cabin I had. Everyone around camp said it too. Just a phenomenal
group. By the first night one of the campers had requested a cubby switch to be
with his new best friend in another cubby, with the residing camper obliging
with not a complaint in the world. Where we welcomed a quiet, reserved camper
on that first day we sent home a sarcastic talk-a-lot on the last day. Each
camper had a nickname they were proud of after the first day and each kid was a
gentleman throughout the week, showcasing for all of Camp how to do it.
With our bandanas and walking sticks, our award
winning-raft, and our cabin-themed Pirate Ball (based off Thunderball, a game
where you try to knock other people out by hitting a ball at them below the
knees) I hated seeing that group break up and leave because of the force they
were as a unit but I know the world received a huge lift with those young men
going forth setting that example for everyone back home.
---
For our final Friday that week, it hit me not just that our
campers were leaving but that Camp was rocketing to a brisk close. And just as
soon as it had come and started, we had our end of the summer banquet on
Saturday night and everyone scattered. Some home to several states away, some
10 minutes down the road. I’m happy that I’ll get to see some of my co-counselors
friends in the fall at school and I’m forever grateful for the opportunity
to have worked this summer at Camp Sertoma and Camp Hope. It’s indescribable to
those on the outside. So I can’t believe I just tried for these last
however-many paragraphs to do just that. But hey, maybe I’m just thankful to be
using technology at whim again.
---
I’m usually pretty good with names and faces so at first I
didn’t think it too out of the ordinary that off the top of my head I can
remember every cabin nickname and all my co-counselors and campers from every
week over the summer. When another counselor praised me for being able to do
so, it kind of hit me, “that’s pretty neat.” Each segment of camp stuck with me
and while I can’t remember every minute detail, I can remember a great bit.
Whereas some of the campers might be afterthoughts or not be so significant in
the lives of those they go home to, they were so unbelievably important to us
at Camp. And we hope they left knowing how much of an impact they made in our lives.
After working this summer I’ve come to understand a great
deal more about patience and teamwork, helping out whether someone needs a
helping hand or not. Being an example at all times for those around you cannot
be overlooked and I will continue to strive to make an impact in the lives of
those around me each day. Each of those campers we housed, fed, and engaged with
needed someone to acknowledge them, to make them feel wanted. I was told that
Camp could change you; make you appear and act differently when you go through
that experience and get thrust back out into the real world. Well, did it work?
Oh by the way, I’ve got a fairly decent chaco tan these days.
