Flip Side

On a cheerier note, as I head out at the crack of dawn to hang out with lots and lots of Presbyterians:

The news a few minutes ago included a weather report (the heat!) from Atlanta.  "Look!" I said to my husband.  "Those kids are playing in the Olympic circles fountain, where Josh is standing in that photo we have!"

I remember the Olympic summer; as we were dropping kids off at camp in North Carolina, many of the counselors, half of whom are international, were talking about plans for going to the competitions on week-ends off.  The photo, which just happens to be in my sidebar, was taken several years later, when Josh himself was a counselor spending a week-end in Atlanta.

It gave me a lot of pleasure tonight, thinking about the good times he had during those North Carolina summers.

Fragments

Thanks to all for the avalanche of prayers over the past week.  I felt very much supported through the four-plus days I spent researching and writing my exegesis exam.  As I said, I have no particular feelings or sense about the outcome, and I won't know until the end of October. In the meantime, I have just finished the cumbersome online application for substitute teaching in our local district.  It's incredibly frustrating to have completed seminary and find myself set back 20 years but that, apparently, is going to be part of the process for me.

I spent a chunk of September 2 by myself out at the beach.  It was a perfect day: really hot and sunny, warm lake water and gentle waves, and a vast and almost empty stretch of beach ~ kids back in school and concession stands closed.  There was a woman who had set up close to my spot who spent a lot of time playing at the edge of the water with her twin boys ~ they must have been about three ~ but I found that I could pretty much absorb the resulting sense of pain as I remembered when I was that mother with little boys at the beach.

In the evening we went down to the cemetery, and unexpectedly ran into some friends.  I've left various things down there ~ a shell from a family trip to Lake Michigan, a stone and some feathers from the beach here ~ and my friends had brought flowers and sea urchin shells. (I'm trying to add more photos, but am getting no co-operation from Blogger.  If I get a chance later, I'll supplement.)  I think makes it a nice surprise for the few folks who happen down the trail through the woods, and Josh would appreciate that.

This afternoon we are off to my husband's brother's retirement party.  I imagine that people will take due note of the newly retired mailman and will then move on to the real stars of the evening: his two brand new grand-children. That will be tough for me, to see those cousins who look so much like twins, but I am working on ways to both enjoy and protect myself ~ which include leaving early.

The Lovely Daughter has gone to D.C. for the week-end, to rendevous with Montessori middle school and camp counselor friends. We expect her back tomorrow, Australian gentleman in tow, to help celebrate friends' 40th wedding anniversary. I for one am looking forward to meeting the new fellow ~ any young man who makes his way from his own farm in Australia to work on a summer camp farm in North Carolina is well worth knowing, in my book.

The other news:  It's COLD! 

My Girl the Camp Counselor

Summer Memories: Camp 2004

The Lovely Daughter is making her first solo drive from North Carolina to Ohio today. She left a little while ago and plans to stay near Cincinnati with her cousin tonight.  I'm sure that she is far too young! (23 on Thursday) for such a long drive on her own, but in honor of the challenge, here's a photo of her with her brother Josh at camp.  He had just finished his first year of college and so was finally a full-fledged counselor, meaning that along with a co-counselor he commandeered a cabin of eight little boys each session. She had just finished 11th grade and was a staff-in-training, meaning that she spent a lot of mornings leading horses around a ring, and her afternoons helping out wherever.

When I was a little girl, campers were ages 5-13 and counselors were at least in college; there were no in-between SIT and intern years.  Those latter programs have become a popular addition over the past decade; the SIT positions are filled by Christmas, most of them by former campers.  The Lovely Daughter has been a camper (three years), an SIT (one), and a counselor (three more).  She says that camp really feels like her other home.

Now I need to find something to distract my thoughts from that long drive!

Dog Days of Summer (Friday Five)

Singing Owl posts today's RevGals Friday Five:

I love summer, and wait anxiously for it every year. So how is it that we have arrived at the hot and humid "Dog Days" of August, and I have not done nearly enough of what I planned to do? I want to pack in as much as I can before snow flies once again.

How about you? And what is happening for those of you who are in a different hemisphere than I, and it may be cold?


1. What is the weather like where you live?

This year: Miserable.  The heat has kept me from accomplishing much of anything.  I have clearly reached that stage in life in which the only acceptable outdoor temperatures range from 45 to 75.

2. Share one thing you love about this time of year.

Cold water.  To drink, to shower in, to wade and float and swim in.

3. Share one thing you do NOT love about this time of year.

I often skip the Friday Five,  because  either a question or the entire theme derails me right off the usually lighthearted path.  Since this time of year is now one of the worst for me and is the same for the same reason  for several other women I know, this is that question.  In three weeks one of my sons will turn 26, and the next day will be the second anniversary of his twin brother's death.  The end of the summer brings its own kind of hell.

4. How will you spend the remaining days leading up to Autumn?

The mixture of good and bad is intense.  The Lovely Daughter will be home from her camp counseling job, turn 23, move into her apartment (a whole block away), and start grad school -- all next week.  Her brother will start law school at the same time.  So I'll be hanging around to support them while I am getting ready myself for that repeat ordination exam (exegesis) at the end of the month.  (Sigh.  Yes, the timing could not be worse.)

5. Share a good summer memory.

Lots of those!  How about . . .  twenty years ago . . . the kids running around in a grassy space under some crab apple trees outside our Chautauqua vacation condo and the Lovely Daughter calling out, "Be careful! Be careful!  Don't let the crabs out!"

Bonus: What food says SUMMER to you?

Corn on the cob.  At the camp where The Lovely Daughter is presently ensconced, much of their food comes from the farm and is harvested by the kids.  "The end of summer?" she laughed as we drove down to North Carolina in June.  "Corn on the cob, corn chowder, cornbread, corn cakes . . .  "

Thanks, Singing Owl.

Reasons I Love Camp

The Lovely Daughter finishes this year's camp counseling stint tomorrow.  I've been trying to keep up with the camp website since she's been down there ~ even counselor moms hope to catch a glimpse of their kids in the pictures.

Anyway, every day I am reminded of what an incredible place camp is, and here are two reasons.  From the director's post one day:

"You also notice a group of young Huck Finners who made a raft with Levi and Taylor.  Making a raft is not that easy and it takes some intricate tying to get it so it’s water worthy.  Then you have to be sure you have enough buoyancy to keep it afloat.  They did well on the construction but it didn’t quite float in the water as high as they wanted it to.  It went from building a raft to building a submarine.  In any event the task overall was fun especially when they christened it and set sail (well almost).  Just getting a chance to build something like that is what being a young boy is all about.  We hope to have some girls working on future rafts as well.  Gwynn Valley is an equal opportunity builder."

Hoe often in today's ultra-competitive kids' world  does a sinking raft project simply morph into a submarine project?

And a couple of days ago I noticed, in a  group of pictures of performances in the lodge one evening:

Two GOATS onstage.

Image: Camp Speed Limit, 2006.

PS: I was wrong!  She doesn't come home for another week.  :(

Good Memories Only!

Sally posts this Friday Five:

This year Tim and I have planted and nurtured a vegetable garden, and I have just spent the morning preparing vegetables and soups for the freezer, our veggie garden is producing like crazy and it is hard to keep up with, that said it'll be worth it for a little taste of summer in the middle of winter :-). That got me thinking of the things I treasure, memories are often more valuable than possessions. How about you, can you share:
 

 A treasured memory from childhood?

The utter freedom of growing up in the country: field and creek explorations, long bike rides to anywhere, high tree climbs over deep ravines.   

A teenage memory?

Horseback rides in the Colorado Rockies with a best-boarding-school-friend the summer after we graduated. 

A young adult memory?

A weeklong backpacking trip in Glacier National Park with The Quiet Husband.  No grizzly sightings, though!

A memory from this summer?

The climb up to The Rock at Gwynn Valley Camp with The Lovely Daughter.

A memory you hope to have?

The Grand Canyon with grandchildren.

Bonus- a song that sums up one of those memories

It seems that the song must be America, the Beautiful.  

Image here.

One Last Hike

So The Lovely Daughter and I decided to hike up to The Rock, a great place from which to look out over camp.

 

The signs look so cheerful and optimistic.  But you hike pretty much up for a long way and then you see:

So you hike up some more and then, there it is ~ hmmm, still a ways:

And so, you hike up closer, to where a series of ropes begins by which, theoretically, you will hoist yourself up:

And then, if you're me, there are no more pictures for awhile, because you are busy falling and making sure that the next week you will still be finding bruises in the most impossible places, but eventually you reach your goal:

There's camp down there!

Camp

I first went to camp the summer in which I turned ten. It wouldn't be my recommendation, that a 9-year-old girl who'd lost her mother and brother two years earlier, and had just acquired a new stepmother and step-siblings, be sent 400 miles away for two months ~ but camp probably saved my life or, at the very least, what was left of my childhood.  Gwynn Valley was designed as a non-competitive, nature-centered camp for young children, and for me it became a haven from family trauma and a source of freedom and joy.  We sent all of our children there, hoping that it would be a similar source of sustenance for them.

The international staff was a huge factor in propelling Josh to Rennes for a year of high school, his brother to Lyons and Barcelona during college summers, and their sister to Prague for a college semester.  Josh and The Lovely Daughter both returned to camp for several summers of employment.

It's an incredibly restorative place, much as it has been for 75 years this summer.  And, while I'm not one for finding experiences of a loved one's "presence" after they have died ~ in the nearly 50 years since she died, I have not once sensed the presence of my mother ~  as we drove into camp last week, I did ~ I felt Josh everywhere.  And then I realized: he was there as a young boy, kicking a soccer ball and jumping through mountain streams; he was there as an adolescent, trying on his first real responsibilities as a contributor to an enterprise beyond himself; he was there as a young man, passing on to other boys what he had once enjoyed.  And he was there even before he was born, when his father and I rediscovered camp on a trip down to North Carolina when I was pregnant with him and his brother.    Why wouldn't the place be filled with his spirit?

Our girl is there now.  She turned five at camp when we went for a family week, she was an enthusiastic camper on her own a few years later, and this is her third (every other summer) venture as a counselor.  I'm glad that she has one more summer in such a gentle and loving community, surrounded by blue mountains and farm animals and sparkling streams.

Just for Fun - Sliding Rock (Daily Photo 24)

When I was a little girl at camp in North Carolina, an afternoon at Sliding Rock was a highlight of the month.  I slipped up there early one morning last week for some photos, knowing that within a couple of hours it would be covered with screeching kids sliding into the icy pool at the bottom.  And adults, too ~ it hasn't been all that long since my own last slide down.

Back Home: A Quiet 4th

The Lovely Daughter and I took off last Thursday afternoon, spent an hour with my dad in southern Ohio, and made it to southern Kentucky while it was still light outside.

On Friday we reached Brevard NC in time for a delightful cafe lunch, and then I dropped her off at her camp for an afternoon of planning and orientation activities.  Bursts of delightful laughter filled the Gatehouse as she and other previous years' counselors recognized one another, and she seemed really happy to be "home."

I spent the afternoon hiking Graveyard Fields so that I could scatter some of Josh's ashes in places to which he and I had hiked several years ago ~ and, on other occasions, all five of us together, and sometimes me alone.  I got lost a couple of times, so it was three hours and five miles of rigorous (for me, anyway) hiking before I made my way back up to the Blue Ridge Parkway and an eventual  dinner with my girl.  

Saturday I got up very early to scatter more ashes at Looking Glass Falls, where our children spent many happy summer afternoons playing in the pool and streams, and then the Counselor and I hit the trail for a hike and a climb and a scramble with ropes to a high overlook.  I think her brother would be happy with the places we found for him.  I myself am somewhat the worse for the wear, pretty bruised and scraped up from a slight tumble toward the top of the overlook, and stiff all over from two days spent hiking alone on mountain trails and through mountain streams, trying not to twist or sprain or break anything while in slippery and isolated locales.

I'll  post some pictures and some thoughts later.  Suffice it to say that, while I'm fine, I'm hiding out from 4th of July revelers today.

Image: Back for a 7th summer at camp!

Summer Fun Friday Five

OK, I redecorated my blog and it looks all summery and nice and . . .  where is everyone????  If I play the Friday Five, will you stop by?  Songbird asks us to list five summer things we love and five we don't, so:

1. Chautauqua Institution.  I have decided I am going to try to go over and hear BBT preach at least one day at the end of July. If any RevGals will be in the vicinity, let me know and we can plan accordingly!

2. The mountains of North Carolina, where I expect to be at the end of next week as I accompany The Lovely Daughter down to her camp counselor job. Like Chautauqua, they are home to wonderful and now heartbreakingly challenging memories, and like Chautauqua, they will soon be home to some precious ashes. 

(That's my girl, lower left in the gray Gwynn Valley t-shirt, in a camp promotional photo.)

3. Lemonade; even the most ordinary glass brings back lovely memories of my grandmother welcoming us home and bringing tall glasses filled with ice and lemonade out to the brick patio under the maple tree.

4.  Very early morning walks; early sunshine and quiet times at the Little Lakes.

5.  Feet: flip-flops and Tevas and sparkles on top of dark red nail polish.

I don't not love anything about summer except the humidity.  We don't have AC and I am already tired of requiring a fan, a glass of ice, and a cold washcloth to achieve even a restless sleep.

So, put on your flip-flops  and stop by for some lemonade in the sweltering shade!