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| Spirit gnome |
And it began. First, with staff training; a well-designed method of the
development of chemistry where none should have existed before. The frat-rat
and the nerd, the queen bee and the philosophy major.
It began with late nights talking to Sara about finding ourselves,
liking ourselves, and overcoming the palpable fear that no one will like the
person we find ourselves to be. We talked about the validity of feelings,
regardless of their origin--one we still haven't settled, I think. But
something I didn't think about until the conversation had passed was that I
know that despite the issues I've had with my dad in the past, and despite the
pain I feel when I watch as my brother self-destructs... despite
all of that, I think my most impressive
heartache has come from overcoming a very real self-hatred. Internal battles
tend to leave us far more broken than those things that happen
to us.
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| Alpaca |
It began with unshaven legs and accepting that no idol is
perfect--except Wonder Woman. I learned lessons. I learned that going without a
shower for a while can make you feel human in a way that a civilized kind of
life denies me. No one smells good all the time. Everyone farts (although
apparently not everyone has the weird urge to smell them even when they don't
want to). Girls are just as nasty as boys. Mud pits are the great equalizer.
Not everyone can sing well, but
absolutely everyone can sing. There are
few places safe enough to discover all of this.
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| Sun hats and our Sunday Best |
It began with tears I never thought I'd be capable of shedding in
public. But it wasn't really public, I suppose. Reflections: A loud, a soft,
and if my day were a sandwich… I cried for fear and helplessness--feelings I'm
not as fond of expressing. And I earned myself a cinnamon roll hug. I felt so
naked in chapel that night. I'd gotten lost that day. I was still recovering.
But that day proved to me twice over how much my camp family is willing to do
for me. Even if they can't understand the heartaches I have, and I cannot
comprehend theirs, I know they will catch me if I fall, and I would do the same
for them. Although, I know there are people with whom I can express my feelings
about those things that have happened
to me,
and there are a different group of people with whom I can share those things I
have done to myself. I learned that these people, of both ends, felt legitimate
fear when I was gone for an hour and fifteen minutes--I didn't know I'd meant
that much. I am vital there--as vital as anyone else. But without any one of
us, this summer would suffer for it.
We
are one body.
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| Staff 2012 minus the brilliant Nathan Stewart |
It began with the sweet reminder that a single location can hold
magic and comfort in hammocks, cots, cabins, and hills; in the International
Birdman Society, EpiPens, slack-jaw-dance, and belly slaps hard enough to make
you vomit a little in your mouth. In the sound of a cabin-mate's snores and the
smell of Waycross cookies, I find comfort I have yet to recreate elsewhere.
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| Early Arrivals |
My first week was a nice one. The ladies in my cabin were wonderful. I
laughed a lot. Quotes like "I don't care if I hunger to death, I don't
care if I thirst to death, I just care that I have my bunny!" and "I
like myself as I am. I don't want to be a tree." still make me snort. And
there are moments that tightened my chest and brought tears to my eyes.
Confessions of a little girl without a daddy, with whom I couldn't help but
relate to, and somehow the sight of Harry Potter books tucked in with teddy
bears choked me up. Seven year-olds can teach you a lot about yourself and the
world as a greater whole. Experience has taught me much, but age and arrogance
has allowed me to forget some of the greater truths in life: that music and
story books are significant methods of therapy, that saying what rests on your
heart should not deny you any friendships—and if it does, you have chosen
poorly, and finally that if you can learn to forgive yourself on a daily basis,
then you can learn to forgive others as liberally. Everyone deserves the chance
to change themselves.
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| Canoe Bruise |
My second session was with some ten and eleven year-olds with the token 9
and 12 year-old. They really were a great cabin. They made me a birthday
gift--a mason jar candle--that I used for reflections with them. I’ll have to
post a picture sometime soon. They taught me that bullying exists and that
children often lack the experience to see it. I learned that when kids are
insecure, they will either make themselves into someone they think people will
like, becoming all too comfortable with manipulation, or they will allow
themselves to be used. The strongest people legitimately don’t care what people
think of them—such a cliché, such a brilliant truth. My cabin took a hold of my
heart. A little girl with a life more challenging than I can even begin to
understand had the best attitude of any child I've ever met, and a girl who has
had a history of bad behavior who "decided to be good," this year...
nothing is more meaningful to me. I'm so proud of Waycross. I'm so proud that
we can provide an environment where neither socioeconomic status nor history can
deny a child the chance to be loved--to make friends.
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| Too perfect |
My third session was on support, which was dotted with its own miracles. It
was defined by late nights talking, laughing, and sighing at those things which
we cannot change. It was defined by Dark Angel in the Main House, grazing out
of the serving bowls, forgetting the laptop at lunch, leading songs and skits,
making mistakes into something amazing. I won't forget being a little proud of
Sara for bruising me. I won't forget learning that Chantel has way more to
offer than just Mama Bear. I won't forget when James tore off his toenail
trying to hide from Natalie... and then ate it to make Sara throw up, (she didn’t
by the way). I learned that putting basil in your water makes it better. I
learned that Wagon Wheel will never get old. I met people from South Sudan and
Brazil. They taught me about walking, they taught me about Gollywop relatives.
Oreos, Reese’s, bath house steps, cinnamon roll hugs, little dots of light
bobbing ahead of me held by tiny hands belonging to tear-stained faces, Zumba,
(not) hoola-hooping, and Mr. Plum in the Rec Hall with the Climbing Rope…
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| Rainbow Connection |
I'll miss you, Waycross. Thank you to the land on which it rests,
thank you to the Gollywops who let us keep it, and thank you to those who have
made this year as full of magic as the week I first felt it when I was nine
years-old.
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| Chanteezy |
