home is where the heart is...
Lately I've been thinking about is home, and where is home. My answer usually is: "depends on my mood," it can be Minnesota, California, Brazil, Santo Domingo, and Lima....etc... While in the states, I've also caught myself calling Peru home various times, and I feel that it is because that is where I want to be right now. Yesterday, though, I realized where my heart will easily fall back upon, Camp Warren and Northern Minnesota, where I spent over 9 summers as camper or staff member there. It’s the place I constantly went back to.
Though I have not been there since 2004, it felt like I never left. As Meg, the camp director who grew up at camp best said it, it’s comfortable. Things were routine, the smells were the same, memories all around, the stars were out at night, and I could walk around at night without a flashlight and still know my way around the trails. I was put to do tasks as if I never left. Yes, there were new constructions, and most of the staff members of my time were gone, and the new generation was my old campers, but the happy feeling was still there. This feeling of happiness started about halfway through the three hour drive. It’s around that part where the city goes away, and birch trees paint the landscape green. While I was driving up, I kept saying "this is a beautiful place, this is familiar," referring to northern Minnesota. I felt at peace, I was going to a place I love.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, I saw camp running as usual. Suddenly I heard "Omigosh, am I seeing what I think I'm seeing," that was the sound of Nina, a camper I had 7 years ago, and now was on staff. Throughout the day, I heard similar comments like that, or people running up to me and giving me hugs. I got into conversation with some of the staff members who were campers during my time, and their memories and comments were amazing. One asked about my favorite Japanese boy band, in which I was like "what are you talking about?" Soon I realized it was a band I pretended to be fanatic about one summer, to see if it caught on...apparently they believed me. When I went into the craft barn, to look at the art program I started up, I was happy to see all of the projects either continued or had improved upon. Lindsey, the new arts and crafts director, hugged me, stopped class and introduced me as the mastermind behind her work. Later that night I chatted up with my old campers, hearing about their memories and how they feel about being on staff now. One girl, who was in my first cabin ever said, I always remembered your hat that year, I guess as a camper all staff members looked alike, except those that did something slightly different.
One of the most surprising impacts I've had on people revolved around the water drinking contest. 10 years ago, the camp nurse said that the camp was getting dehydrated, so we needed to get our campers to start drinking water. I took advantage of a natural talent I have of drinking water really fast, and had a contest that if a camper was able to drink water faster than me, they could throw me in the lake with my clothes on. Well, I had only been beaten once, and that was by Omar, the camp cook. This was a contest that occurred every session that I was there, and when I was not in the mood to do it, the campers insisted upon it. Now talking to the former campers, I learned how important that contest was to them. They told me things like "I practiced all year for that contest" or "I remember our cabin talking about it all of the time" "everyone was determined to beat you." I had no idea it had become such a big deal. Apparently, I became somewhat of a legend, with stories about how I could open up my throat, had no gag reflex, practiced for the Olympics...those all surfaced as reasons why I could not be beaten. I just attribute it to genetics, my dad drinks just as fast.
Anyway, when we talked about the impact it had upon them, they convinced me...lets do a water drinking contest tomorrow...you will be the surprise face off. Of course, I put on a robe (well, a Kimono from the costume closet), the staff put it all together, they explained the rules, riled up the campers...they said things like "we have the champion here, no one has ever beaten here, the new campers were ready." I came down, WWF style, challenged them all, and said "they were going down!" The fight was on.
I wish I could say I lost, but genetics is genetics, and I can still drink a glass of water in 2 seconds. I spoke with my old campers and told them I was constantly told to lose, to let the campers win for once...I never let in. The campers all said "I'm glad you never let us win, for you continued on being a camp legend, and the contest would not have had as much of significance.
Though the water drinking contest, boy band craziness, pink hair extravaganza...all were fond memories to relive, there were two people whom came up to me and said something really great. Meg, said "wow, Lil, I cannot believe you are here right now, you have no idea how much you influenced my life" and Sophia "Lil, you were my first counselor, and I cannot believe you are here, seeing me on staff." She said that close to tears. Both of them invited me up to do old songs that we used to do together: Meg was the wee wee song, and Sophia was black socks. I hope everyone is able to experience the gratification that hearing how much you impacted someone, it is the greatest feeling in the world.
Now I'm debriefing my trip to camp, my last two months in Minnesota, my last full day in the States, and my trip back "home" to Peru. Looking back at what I went through, I feel content, it was tough, I have no idea how I held up. I am amazed that I was able to help my family's group home enough that my mother will be able to take time off, and that we will be able to make it sustainable. I would not do anything differently. I saw my old friends, I went up to camp, I worked my butt off, I cried, I laughed, I grew. To everything, there is a time, a season. It’s my time to leave, to continue on the work I do in Peru. In January I will be done with the work in Peru, and ready for the season to turn, and to find a new home. Yet, somehow, I know I will always go back to camp.