Summer camp. For me it was summers filled with friends and activities away from home. A chance to be seen as a musician, a swimmer, a skit extraordinaire, to shoot clay targets and collect wild daisies in the same day. To swim to the dock and fall in and out of love in the space of one evening free time. Camp was singing silly songs and slaving over crafts to bring home, it was getting mail from home and being too busy having fun to ever write back very often. I loved camp. As I got older, teen angst and hormones changed (church) camp and I let others opinions of me and their actions toward me sour the camp experience. Shortly after camp went bad, church as a whole became decidedly unpalatable, so it was a chapter of my life I simply moved past.
I've just returned from 3 days of being a volunteer lifeguard for Camp Melacoma in Washougal, Washington and am full of camp songs and spirit and the joy of sharing 'camp' with my son. I have a hat full of 'swap-pins' and an autograph book full of camp nicknames like Tweety, Wolfcub and Ash. After just a few nights in a 70's era cabin with like-minded adults I feel just-plain-happy. Everyone there was a volunteer. And everyone there was there for the kids. It made me realize how much I miss teaching and interacting with small people. College students are fine, but I only have a first-name basis with a few and even then they are worried about bigger issues than how they will survive if their group doesn't win the camp spirit flag at least once.
Camp is a disconnect from adult life just like the classroom was. At camp I was "Waves", the pool lifeguard, a cool adult. At camp I could spontaneously break out into random song at any moment and no one thought it odd. Being quirky and energetic were positive qualities. I miss being that person.
It was good to go and get a renewed perspective on what makes me happy. Kids playing, growing and learning who they are is awesome - and I like to be a part of it. I've been thinking and thinking that I need to grow my family, frustrated because the timing and interest didn't seem to be there. Maybe the wanting I'm feeling isn't about getting old and not having a child with a man who is actually a good dad, but just the need to express the side of me that teaching did. I have to think about it.
I have great memories of this past weekend and can't wait to go back next year. Something about a guitar by the campfire with mellow music to wind down the evening did more to bring me back to myself than I would have imagined.
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