Camp Blog

Finger Paints and Root Beer Floats

Fri, 13 Aug 2010 00:09:00 GMT

I kill plants, not with malice or discontent, but rather ill attention and neglect. Growing up in a city, I wasn’t the kind of kid who longed for the country and wide open spaces, and it wasn’t that I didn’t like. . . visiting my Uncle's farm, for instance, it was just that I would have rather been inside reading a book or in the fire-escape stair well of our high rise, watching the cars flash past on the free way.

I kill plants through my indifference, because I’m not paying attention; and so you may understand my surprise, when the other day I noticed that the three plants on my windowsill were still alive. It’s been over two years since Ranger Bob gave them to me as a birthday present, and somehow I’ve manage to water them enough to make sure they have enough sun. They’re alive, and frankly, I like seeing them there perched near my kitchen counter. They’ve more than doubled in size. It’s satisfying watching them grow. Now, I should admit to you, that’s they’re succulents, and don’t need much water: an aloe and a jade plant. I probably water them once a week, but somehow, magically, it’s enough.

About a week ago now Lisa Giebel, the wife of the week’s camp doctor came up to me one afternoon and said, “You know, I was thinking about it, and besides me, you’ve probably cooked more food for my kids than anyone else. I think that’s pretty cool.”

Lisa and her kids have been coming to camp for a long time, and not just summer camp, but also with their church, during Bible Camps, Pathfinder Camps, and Family Camps. I’ve gotten to watch her girls get bigger -- grow older. And along the way I discovered that I got to make a difference in their lives. It didn’t take much, a few green beans, some mashed potatoes, the occasional root beer float, and somehow, magically, that’s enough.

So much of the impact we make on campers’ lives happens when we’re not paying attention, when we’re sweeping floors or folding laundry. It happens while we’re playing basketballs with them or teaching them how to shoot arrows. Their lives are changed when we least expect it, when we’re busy doing something else: watering horses, singing silly songs.

Because the truth is, we really don’t do much here Big Lake. We just take a few kids for rides on the lake. We give them some cookies once in awhile. We finger paint on construction paper, and play a few rounds of capture the flag from time to time, then by some means or another, while we’re not looking, their lives are changes, and somehow, magically, the sweeping, and baking, the teaching, and singing, the nighttime worships, and games of kickball are enough.

So much happens in a month!

Fri, 30 Jul 2010 17:49:00 GMT

Summer runs away from you really fast. Jillany just reminded me that I haven’t written anything for WEEKS now, and that’s how the summer is feeling like the weeks have flown by without my realizing it. It’s what happens when you’re having so much fun.

I think they got the new flat screen TV working in the lodge this week. They’ve been using it to play a video that explains the rules of capture the flag, which by the way, the boys won yesterday, and last night as I was closing down the lodge, it had fun questions on it that kids were guessing the answers to, like, “What’s the name of the Boys’ Village Director?”

I also leg song service last night. I do every Thursday, but for some reason, last night was even for fun than usual, filled with energy. I like to take some time when I lead music and ask a few kids a question or two, and last night I asked three campers, ‘How many years have you been coming to Big Lake?’ One answered, one year. Another answered; two, and one girl said that this was her fourth summer. Then I told them that this was summer number 10 for me, and then we sang the theme song from my first summer – Everyday. They sang along, and it was just like it was 2001 again.

It always surprises me how music works like that, how it gets into your soul, and a good song transcends age or time, how the #1 song from 10 years ago is still being sung by campers today, how we still have cinnamon rolls on Friday morning, extra staff getting up early to help roll out the 800 or so dough balls of sticky goodness. It’s these constants that I’m most thankful for working here at Big Lake, the little things, the tiny details that really make my summers so special.

Tonight, we’ll sit together and have bowls or potato soup, and it’ll feel like any other Friday night, but that’s why I’m going to love it so, cause I can count on the incomprehensible dull murmur of noise coming from the tables as people talk about riding on the rocket, or what their time was on the Olympics’ obstacle course. I know Casey Bartlett will have a bowl of vegetable soup, and Chad Torkelsen will have a one of corn chowder. He’ll stick some cubes of cheese in it, melting them into a gooey mess, and then I know after campfire, we’ll all stand in a circle, singing, “Holy, Holy, Holy” together before CADCO goes off to clean the bathrooms.

I also know that both Casey and Julie will have forgotten to restock their cleaning closets, and I’ll have to trudge down to the shop to get some brown paper towels, but you can’t always get what you want, right?

23 June 2010

Wed, 23 Jun 2010 21:55:00 GMT

There was a little hill at the back of my house growing up, and really it was more of a steep incline that ended at the neighbor’s yard behind ours. A lot happened on that hill: mud cakes, gardening with my grandfather, fire work detonation. But one of my favorite things to do was to run down it. Sometimes my cousins and I would climb to the top to just run down. It was exhilarating. You had to dodge rocks, and the stone wall at the bottom of the hill. The soil was really loose and so sometimes you’d slip and stain your clothes in the red volcanic dirt. You had to hop over the grandpa’s vegetables and around the large thorny bougainvillea plant. But it was worth the rush.

It’s only 4 days left to our first set of campers, and today the staff are getting a last half day off before the REAL madness begins. We’re mini golfing and bowling, playing soccer in the park, and eating pizza. It’s hard to compare year to year, but these last four days are usually very blurry. They speed by like the Doppler affect. You only remember mere seconds of what’s happened, before the sound passes you by. We have a staff banquet tomorrow, dress rehearsals for our plays, and much bonding and tom foolery to accomplish.

It’s worth it though. We’ll have a lot of rocks to dodge, a few thorns, maybe even a pumpkin or two, but as we barrel down this hill to Junior 1, it’ll definitely be worth the rush.

-Baker John

Day One and DONE!

Fri, 18 Jun 2010 06:29:00 GMT

17 hours later, I'm winding down to go to bed. Hopefully I'll fall asleep by midnight, so I can manage 5 1/2 hours. It's gonna be hard though, so there's so much to process, so much I'm still thinking about. It was full, but it was GOOD. Honestly, I usually go into the first Thursday of staff training, treading it, and honestly, I'm usually still there about half way through, but something happens, ALWAYS (and I don't use superlatives lightly), that changes my mind. Today it was pizza night.

We have a new tradition here at Big Lake, and by new, I mean that we've only been doing it for 4 or 5 years. On the first night of staff training, for dinner, we break up into groups and "make your own pizzas". A group of 3 or 4 people get crusts and construct their own dinner. As I said tonight, when I was explaining the process, you can learn a lot about someone by what they eat, and pizza specifically can be very telling. There are a lot of crucial choices to make: which sauce (marinara, Alfredo, pesto), cheese or no cheese, (and the very telling) whether or not to pineapple -- which, just so you know, I am firmly against.

Then after the pizzas are created, pizza teams "name" their pizza by writing a short phrase or witty word on the pan liner, which I then scream out to indicate that their pizza is done baking. People are getting brave with what they write. . .

But it was nice to be forced to not take myself too seriously, to be able to have a laugh at my own expense, and to, frankly, look a little foolish for a change.

There's a way we see stuff in our head, what Christmas is supposed to look like, how we want the world to view us, what goes on a pizza. And it was good to remember that at camp, people get to be who they actually are instead of who they're "supposed to be". We GET TO be silly and look through glasses that we don't normally get to see though, and have others see us in ways that wouldn't be possible anywhere else.

Pizza, rope swings, singing, the first softball game of the summer, now some sleep (if I can manage with Hank, my dog, snoring at the foot of my bed) -- all in all a good, no, a GREAT day.

-Baker John

13 Hours Away

Thu, 17 Jun 2010 05:09:00 GMT

I know. It's been 10 days, and that's sort of unacceptable blog upkeep. To make excuses, I forgot my computer in Portland when I was there last, and just got it back yesterday. I suppose I could have posted yesterday, and that would have been only 9 days, but I decided to eat blueberries and cake instead, a choice, I'm sure, you would have made as well.

It's like that though, at least for me. I'm forgetting things, like my laptop at the Apple Store at Bridgeport Village in Tigard, Oregon. I forgot that I had a two o'clock meeting today, till it was 2:45 and nearly over. I forgot my credit card at Ranger Bob's house when I went over there to use his computer (as aforementioned, I forgot mine in Portland). And just know, as I was talking to Travis, my summer assistant, I had to have him remind me what time I told him to be at work in the morning.

It's a lot, summer camp is. There's a lot to think about. If you've ever worked here or just been here and seen me walking around, I normally carry a yellow pad around with me. I have to write lists for myself, and really more than lists, they're just sentences that have nothing to do with each other telling me to do things like my laundry, and floss, and order curry paste -- seriously, those are all on to do lists right now.
Cause I want to get it right. We want to get it right, because we believe this PLACE, this THING we do for JESUS, and for KIDS means something, that it's worth doing right.

In about 13 hours, from right now, we're going to sing that first song. At 11 am on the first Thursday of Staff Training week, we start singing together, and it's beautiful, and satiating, and terribly overwhelming, because you're so full of joy for what's happening, and excitement for what's about to happen, and fear, a good fear, that helps you remember all those things that you'd forgotten over the year, that summer's here, and all the details are about to come together.

Only 13 hours away from some great stories. It's time to make memories.

-Baker John

Birds and Lettuce (not in that order)

Mon, 07 Jun 2010 18:30:00 GMT

It rained all day today. The lake is filling and is no longer iced over, and this was my last Sunday alone. Staff training is still a week and a half away, and there will be no campers for another three weeks, but people start showing up this Thursday.

There seems to be an endless supply of 5 minute tasks, those things that need to get done sometime, but don’t need to get done now; and that will only take 5 or so minutes to finish, so I can TOTALLY get them done later. Except now there are about a month’s worth of 5-minute tasks, and just a little over a week to do them in.

Last week, the one I was most proud of was the produce meeting I had at the Sysco plant in Portland. A few years ago, I decided to switch all of our kitchen disposables -- paper plates, foam cups, and plastic forks and spoons -- to biodegradable stuff: recycled materials, non bleached napkins, corn forks. And this year I wanted to take it a step further. I’m switching as much of our produce as possible to local and organic. I haven’t got it all switched out, mostly due to unavailability, but I would say 90% of our produce and dairy is one or the other, and as much of it as I can get is both.

I remember 4 years ago now, when we switched our disposables. It was at least double the cost on everything. Some things were 4 times the cost, and cups were 10. It was daunting looking at the budget, but something was compelling me to take a step in the right direction. Four years later, our budget has adjusted, and I no longer cringe at the price when I order a case of environmentally friendly corn knives.

I think that’s one thing that makes camp so great. Even though the actual steps are sometimes hard, and though we may have to give things up, we do our best to make the right decisions, the hard decisions – integrity, safety, love. We profess to be Christians, and do our best to bring honor to that calling, the calling to follow Christ, step by little step.

Anne Lamott, in her book ‘Bird by Bird’, talks about her younger brother, who procrastinates on a written school report about birds. Her father, also a writer, turns to his defeated son, and says, “Bird by bird. Just take it bird by bird.”

I feel I have an entire aviary ahead of me, but for now lettuce is done, and I'm ready for whatever is next. Bring it on summer… bring it on.

-Baker John

Summer is Coming

Mon, 07 Jun 2010 06:31:00 GMT

It’s hard to know when spring starts (or ends for that matter) up on the mountain. It’s rarely marked by a lack of snow. The lake starts to melt, sometimes. The days are sunnier, sometimes, and sometimes Tammi remembers to put the “spring flag”, covered in lilies, outside her front door. There’s nothing very regular about our springs though. And it’s often hard to know when summer is really coming, besides that big red circle around June 17 on my calendar.

It always seems to creep up on me, like a static laden pant leg. I’ve sort of felt it inching past my ankle all along, and I would have caught it if I were paying better attention, but instead I’m often left embarrassed, my mismatched socks exposed to the world.

In recent years to help my absentmindedness, I’ve put up one of those electronic counters on my computer’s desktop. At present, I have 15 days, 17 hours, 32 minutes, and 46 seconds left. I, by no means, am dreading that first Thursday of staff training, but the fear has never left me, that unholy feeling that maybe I’m not good enough, maybe I won’t be prepared, that there probably is something I forgot to do.

It comes though, summer that is, like that dastardly pant leg, and more times than not, being embarrassed that I have one green sock on, and one orange, puts me at ease, keeps me humbled that I get to do something I love, that I get to change lives with pizza and green beans. That somehow, magically, fresh sweet corn and fudge brownies make the day better. That the difference between a good and bad day can be a bowl of mashed potatoes.

15 days, 16 hours, 14 minutes, and 13 seconds left. . . I better get a move on. Summer is coming, and it’s going to be awesome.

-Baker John