Skip

  "Whatever the intellectual quality of the education given our children, it is vital that it include elements of love and compassion, for nothing guarantees that knowledge alone will be truly useful to human beings. Among the major troublemakers society has known, many were well-educated and had great knowledge, but they lacked a moral education in qualities such as compassion, wisdom and clarity of vision."Dalai Lama.

 Besides my parents, there is one person in this whole world who had as much impact on the development of my values and on the choices I made as an adult.  His name is Skip.  Well, his real name is Bruce, but I've never been able to call him that. It would be too uncomfortable!  He's Skip.  Always and forever.  Just like I am Muskie always and forever. 

I'm not alone.  I daresay there are quite a few people out there in "summer camp land" who wouldn't hesitate if they were asked to identify the person who impacted them the most when they were growing up besides family members.  The first name to come to mind for many is Skip. After they declared that, out would tumble a whole canoe full of stories that revolve around a place that remains sacred in our hearts and memories. Alive and well these stories are!  All you have to do is tickle a Kawabi kindred just the chin and BING!  Out shines a story about Skip.  

Some of them would begin by focusing on that sense of childhood fear of this man who generated an untouchable admiration and desire to please in many!  Two thumbs up from Skip and your feet didn't touch the ground.  However, the underbelly of this are the stories of when at age 13 you got caught in the middle of the night performing crazy antics when you were supposed to be sound asleep in your own bunkbed!  I get shivers just remembering how it felt when 12 of us campers who had reunited after a long winter of wishing for camp again, were in the middle of taking photos of all of us on one bed........ with every single flashlight on and a loud cacophony of laughter peeling through the tent walls!  

Through the sound of 12 girls humming like a crowd at a bottom of the ninth world series game 7 with the score tied and the heavy hitter up to bat...... a seriously sharp baritone would cut the air and slice through the loud din! Silence ensued immediately.  For out in the dark on the path you had to take to get back to your own tent was a man who walked those same paths without a flashlight EVER in glow in the dark white tennis shoes.  That's all you could see!  The shoes!  It was probably best not to see the stern brow on his face.  You knew it was there anyways.  

I've never even attempted to write a piece on this blog about Skip because I find it daunting.  Not that I don't want to..... its just that so many conversations, activities, campfires, games, and interactions come to mind all at once.   What underlies all of the stories I share with him are the values he lived and taught daily.  Compassion, love and belonging were expressed through his actions.  Like tasty sweets, they were shared with everyone who had the bloody luck to be under his wing for even one summer.  Me?  I had 12 joyful summers.  

As a camper, I found my sense of belonging and a mentor who cared deeply for every single kid that got off that bus on the first day of camp.  It was his goal always to know the names of every one of us by dinner that first day.  It was his expectation of his whole staff too.  If he was stumped............ he bought you a bag of "tuck."   

Skip led us in song, taught us new games that opened up the whole camp property into a place of adventure.  He handpicked his staff and gave them his blessing and complete trust to lead their little packs of campers through a memorable time learning how to swim, how to sail......... how to canoe....... how to shoot an arrow..... how to sing a round of Fire's burning....... how to make new friends and work as a group. 

On the first night of my second year on staff, Skip wanted to talk to me.  He had brought along the two female senior staff with him, so I knew right away it was serious.  Much to my genuine surprise, he wanted to talk to me about my contribution as an Assistant Counsellor the summer before.  Not that I had screwed up completely........ With an assertiveness but also with compassion, he told me that he was disappointed in me as he had expected more from me.  He saw me as a more proactive leader than what I was showing. 

I was pretty stunned by the whole encounter and couldn't understand why he had to have these two staffers with him.  Until he explained that he wanted them to take me under their wing.  He wanted to make sure I had the best guidance that summer so I would be ready to take on the role of Counsellor the following year.  He wanted me to succeed as the Leader he believed I could be.

Needless to say, I worked my ass off that summer.  If Skip thought I had it in me, and he wanted to see it shine, well dammit I was going to prove to him he was right!  Though my confidence took an initial knocking, by the end of the summer I was 16 years old, I felt an even greater sense of belonging and a good feeling that I too had left an impression on the lives of my "campers."  

One of the most important aspects of that "SKIP TALK" night was how it opened up our relationship to a place where he and I could talk more about so many other topics.  True, there was still a sense of reverence one has for their mentor, but there was also an levelling of our interactions.  Adult to adult.  He put his trust me.  I put my trust in him.  He gave me responsibilities and guidance, and I fulfilled them as I tapped into my gifts.  We learned the human side of one another.  We worked together.  I thrived being on his "team."

A couple of years later, Skip approached me one evening during pre-camp.  He asked me if I would join him in talking to an Assistant Counsellor who needed some guidance.  All of a sudden the big staff girl shoes were on my feet.  It was my turn. I was the one who would follow through with this staff person and help her process the message from Skip, but also be by her side that summer.  It certainly surprised me, but I was honoured to play this role.  Passing on the values.......... passing on the compassion, love and belonging.  Developing trust.  Developing deeper interactions with one another by sharing.  Growing in leaps.  

Along the way, this staffer and I became lifelong friends. :)  Oh, and let me add too that one of the big girl staffers who was with me the night I got my talking to?  She's very much in my life still....... We all may live in different provinces, but we are in touch almost weekly.  Thank you facebook! :)

Years later, after many accumulative moments of shared feelings........ I returned to camp for a 40th anniversary reunion.  It had been 15 years since I had walked up the camp road towards the Lodge.  This time, I was accompanied by my own family.  For the first time, I was introducing them to my home away from home.  A place they had heard so much about had finally become the real thing........ the sweet scent of pine needles scattered on the soft ground in the woods, the tall trees that allowed only slivers of sunlight to pierce through, the sounds of laughter, boat motors, water play........ the cool breezes.... it was all there as we got out of the car and walked up towards the buzzing of the people there for the same purpose as I was.  To relive, reunite, rekindle, relight once again.   

As we ambled up to the top of the small hill on the road, I saw in the distance this man whose blonde hair had a little more grey in it, wearing a golf shirt, shorts and those glow in the dark tennis shoes.  He stood there waiting to greet us and I realized that I hadn't seen him since the night of my wedding reception where we danced together, Muskie and Skip.... mentee and mentor.  It took every single muscle in my body not to go right into a sprint towards him.  It felt like I had just completed the Amazing Race and he was standing by the finish line!  

I held my composure right up until I stood in front of him.  His arms went right around me like a big bear as I proclaimed..... "I'm home!"  

"Good to see you again Muskie..."

Tears? Oh yeah!  Both of us....   Then Skip turned his focus on my daughter whom he had never met in person before.  

"You must be Martha.  Welcome to Camp Kawabi.  I hope you will call it home too just like your Mom does because you belong here too." 

hellos, goodbyes and important life lessons

Miss Muskie and her crew of campers, circa 1980 

 I have never been able to encapsulate the intense feelings that accompany an experience of living for an extended period of time amongst a group of people who are all around the same age.  However, when I meet up with someone who has had such an opportunity, there is almost an unspoken smile, a nod and a faraway glimmer in their eyes.  They know.  They know.

For 12 summers during my youth, I spent time immersed in a community that offered this expansive emotional ride.  At age 9, I attended Camp Kawabi for the first time as a camper and fell in love with the place and its energy.  It began as a two week stint, but morphed into one month at age 12, and then the whole summer when I transitioned onto staff when I was 15, continuing until it was time to say goodbye the very last time the summer I turned 21. 

Even though its been more than 25 years since then and many of the events, activities, connections, the late night antics, days off, canoe trips, chapels, campfires, hot summer sunny days and rainy day hikes have blended together, there are moments which are still so crystal clear.   They allow me to revisit a time when I learned how intense a keenly felt sense of belonging can alter how you look at the world and what is really important in life.   Friendship, love, acceptance, trust in others, trust in myself, respect and appreciation for differences, mentoring, supporting one another, helping others .......... all continue to feed my sense of who I am, what I believe in and who I strive to be with confidence.  Most predominantly ensconced however are the feelings which I treasure... ALL of them. 

These are the same emotions and values which we learn from our families as well, but when a person has the chance to step out beyond their own nest into a group and experience the unbelievable joys and sorrows of belonging?  It takes you to a place one can only share with a kindred spirit who has experienced it as well.  Believe me, I've tried to explain this but I've never managed to get it right. 

These thoughts have re-emerged of late as I've done my best to help my children make sense of it.  In the past 5 months, they have experienced this amazing intensity;  last summer for my daughter when she signed on as a Counsellor in Training at Camp Glenburn and more recently for my son, who just returned from a month in Costa Rica with an organization called CISV (Children's International Summer Villages.) Both of them have ventured off our front lawn to live amongst a group of peers, led by trusting people. They have learned many new skills which will come in handy as they grow into adults.  The values we have done our best to pass on to them have been reinforced fully by their experience. And, they have made longlasting heart connection friendships with others who draw upon the same feelings and the same values.  Independently, they both found themselves immersed in a sense of belonging so wondrous that it left them reeling.  

Martha and her Glenburn kindreds, smiles from the inside out

Not wanting the moments to end, they returned home overwrought with the sorrow of saying goodbye to the friends who are like family and goodbye to life altering happenings.  Many stories.  Many questions and new ideas. Big tears.  Big pain.  Big transitions back to the ordinary reality of a home routine and the reconnection to family and friends they had left behind. To say this adjustment is difficult is an understatement.  To say these life lessons are important is also an understatement.  Why?  Because so many internal shifts happen during these opportunities and they happen within a relatively short time frame.  It takes a while to adjust, to refocus, to recognize the personal impact.  It's all positive in the long run, but in the short run, the initial feeling of pulling away from a group your whole spirit was blended into is akin to losing a piece of yourself. I wish everyone could have a chance to go through this ride. 

For some mysterious reason,  I spent their first days home with them alone.   With my daughter, I was the lucky one to pick her up at camp on the last day.  If you've never seen a group of teenage camp counsellors on the morning after the campers have left at the end of the summer, you'd never believe it.  Not only do they look like a train wreck because they haven't really slept much all summer because they've worked their butts off running "the show" caring for the "ankle-biters" and stringing the late nights "hanging out" with their buddies, they have just pulled one last all-nighter as a way to stretch their final moments together.  Believe me, it's brutal!  I've been the sleep deprived counsellor with a mitt full of snotty kleenexes and a heart that feels like its been ripped out.  It is the emptiest bone weary feeling.  Now,  I can say I was the Momma loading the van of half packed bits of summer memories, luring the sobbing daughter to the front seat and then listening through my own tears to the stories and pouring emotions while trying to keep the van on the winding road home. 

My heart broke for her......... the magically lovely summer moments of bonding with kindred spirits was over.  It has changed her in ways she still isn't fully aware of.   It stretched her, comforted her, AND discomforted her.  That's what important learning does.  It offered her a really good taste of independence, of learning how to make decisions, to weigh options, to be herself and to know the unbridled trust you can feel when sharing your deepest secrets with someone who not only "gets you" but accepts you unconditionally.  Those gifts of friendship will forever be quilted to her soul.  I know, because mine still are. And you know what?  I still miss my camp days..... all these years later.  It was that meaningful. The lessons linger...........  The lessons guide me daily.

We talked and talked, just the two of us for a whole day.......... I left her alone when she needed to sift through her memories and I tried to be there for her when she wanted to share a story.  I promised she could have all of her camp friends visit whenever it could be arranged, though I knew it wouldn't be the same.  My empathy was boundless and I knew her transition was going to be a rough ride.  Her friends whom she had left behind at the beginning of the summer couldn't understand her disinterest in coming back to "planet earth...."   It took time........ and a bunch of mini reunions throughout the fall to help her find her footing again while she readjusted to the changes inside herself and to have those leadership value lessons reinforced more fully.

Max in Costa Rica with his arm around his new buddy.....could the smile be any bigger?

My son who is younger than I was to have gone through such an amazing experience......... he's only 12......... also crash landed.  He returned home at the end of January.  His reaction was even more intense because the people he grew close to live in other countries around the world.......... Finland, Sweden, Brazil, England, Costa Rica, Thailand, Guatemala.... this put a whole new spin on it.  

Despite the language differences, and the adjustment to being so darn far away from home, he gathered a whole heart and head full of awareness that he will forever be changed.  Even though the geographical distances are huge and that reality is what hits him the hardest, he is tied to a group of kindreds who also absorbed the same huge lessons ..... global peace, equality, leadership, advocacy, problem solving and many many more.  He has joined a group of multi-cultural kids who have become enlightened while they became friends for life.  

On the day I spent home with my son before he returned to school, we shared tears and talked.   It was probably the most important relationship building day for the two of us.  I shared stories with him that I hadn't before.  He shared stories with me that perhaps he wouldn't have if he thought I wouldn't understand.  Like I did with his sister, I expressed to him how privileged he is to have had the opportunity to feel life as deeply as he has......... AND to know that the friendships he made will always remain with him along with his own learning.  I pointed out that he now has his own group of kindreds he will forever be attached to and that because of his opportunities, he has a responsibility to continue to expand his awareness of the plight of others.  He gets it.  At age 12, he knows that joy is eternally tied with sorrow.......... and all the feelings in between.  

It has been intense, but it has all be very very good. Tonight, I say a prayer of thanks for my own experiences at camp because once again........ they helped me understand what my children were feeling and guide them through big maze of milestones they are coping with in their young lives.  In turn, they have helped me re-evaluate those lessons I gathered up, as well as gave me another glimpse at how important those friendships have been all these years.   

 

Max learning a few new dance moves at a War Child fundraiser on Saturday evening.

out of the blue..........

 the old craft shop, where it all began.

sometimes a smile finds me when i'm least expecting it

I may not expect it, but I always know where it has journeyed from.

It comes from you.

Out of the blue, I'm captured by a twinkling moment

when you squeezed my shoulder as you walked by

when you looked over at me from across the noisy room

when you were sitting beside me and all at once we turned our heads at the same time

like we knew it was time to really look into each others eyes

My smile arrives when I remember how my heart felt

uplifted

hopeful

fresh

excited

like a shooting star in a sky so full of night magic.

it still skips a beat

when the smile from you arrives..........

sometimes a smile finds me when I'm least expecting it

but when I need it the most.

out of the blue, it comes from you.

it's like you know when to send me reassurance

that I matter.

still matter to you.

sometimes i find myself stopped in mid stride

my focus is beyond the farthest point I can see with my naked eye

to where you are

out there living

Can you feel me there with you?

out of the blue, I return a smile to you.

it's what kindred spirits do for one another.

without even thinking twice.....

all my life's a circle..........

In the chilly hours and minutes,
Of uncertainty, I want to be,
In the warm hold of your loving mind.

To feel you all around me,
And to take your hand, along the sand,
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind.
Donovan.....

The candles are burning bright tonight in my home as I write this. Lily, our trusty pooch, is monitoring the front lawn through the window looking for little trick or treaters carrying big goodie loot bags, all excited to be out in the dark on this blustery Halloween Eve. There is a combined sense of fright and delight.

I love Halloween. It truly does bring the neighbourhood together in a different way than on any other day of the year. Little Emma down the street, who is almost 4 years old (how did that happen??!) looked so adorable in her flowy pink wizard costume. Of course, Lily had to be the first greeter as she ploughed past me as I opened the door........... her tail wagging, a smile on her face. When we opened the door to Emma, it was a reunion between friends. I heard this tiny little voice exclaim.......... "Happy Halloween Lily!" Then, a big yawn came from the worn out wizardess, and a polite thank you without any prompting. :) So grown up!

Tonight, I'm have the house to myself. I chose to stay behind to hand out the Halloween candy. I'm too wiped out and physically feeling a bit off kilter. To combat a sense of weariness, I've lit dozens of candles and put on a CD chock full of the songs I love to listen to when I am in need of rejuvenation. It feels like a multi-sensory haven which has generated a sense of grounding and a lovely feeling of nostalgia wafting all around me. It's exactly where I want to be, reflectively soaking it all up.

Every single song that has played tonight has conjured up a photo album of beautiful faces, heart held memories ............... stuff that dreams are made of .... Within the tunes, I can hear intimate conversations, envision late night guitar picking, picture smiles and tears, reunions and shared walks. I remember boisterous campfires, spirit moving canoe paddles, nights laying on a floating dock looking up at a sky so full of stars. Close enough to wrap your hands around them. And then there were the nights when the northern lights danced up from the horizon. Oh my God, they are sight to behold.

It's the stuff that dreams are made of
It's the slow and steady fire
It's the stuff that dreams are made of
It's your heart and soul's desire
It's the stuff that dreams are made of.... (Carly Simon)

Connections to past and present feed an internal flame that propels me onto to the adventure ahead..... wherever that may lead, whatever it offers. While the music plays on, I fall into a place deep inside... where the ME in me is most authentic. To label it with feelings? A profound sense of gladness.

My gladness, however, is steeped in multiple layers of feelings, softened by a cotton gauze over the lens with which I view it. Tears spring forward, smiles too as I realize how much time has already marched on in my life and how FULL it has been thus far. I bring forth the living spirits of the people who continue to touch me .... the ones in particular who are far away in physical distance, but never ever far from my grateful heart. I kiss them all tonight. I kiss them all......

When rain has hung the leaves with tears,
I want you near, to kill my fears
To help me to leave all my blues behind.

For standin' in your heart,
Is where I want to be, and I long to be,
Ah, but I may as well, try and catch the wind.
(Donovan)

As the outside winds send welcoming gusts from the past summers in blustery autumn billows, I sit here surrounded by the wafting scents of candles and wonder what makes their flames flicker and dance in unison? I think I know.

I 'm not alone in this ultimate adventure called life. Let the music play on.....

It seems like I've been here before;
I can't remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we'll all be together again.
No straight lines make up my life;
And all my thoughts have bends;
There's no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.

All my life's a circle;
But I can't tell you why;
Season's spinning round again;
The years keep rollin' by.

Harry, keep the change, Chapin.

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is adventure. Mine is enhanced daily by my friends and family.... the beautiful people whose spiritual presence always make the candlelight flicker and dance and bring meaning to the music that touches my soul.

hangin' out the laundry....

Get those clothes to the laundry
Get them shiny clean
They go into West Guilford
They use 24 machines.
Because they stick to your skin
The smell is a sin,
They're just not fit to be seen.

(Song written and performed by my friend Kirk, aka Skagg one night while hanging out at a laundromat near the camp we worked at.)

Sometimes I wonder at the interesting little artifacts and snippets housed in my brain. Carmi at Written Inc. has chosen the photo theme, "laundry" and ever since he posted it, this little ditty has been escorting me, as well as the memories of a seemingly ordinary evening doing laundry with a friend in a place so small its not even considered a village. West Guilford, Ontario. Maybe it's bigger now, but back then, it had a laundromat and an old fashioned bowling alley. I think there was a rundown old dance hall too. Nice combo, n'est pas?

Three very distinct memories come from that night......Kirk happily messing with new chord arrangements on his guitar, strumming away and eventually making up a silly song that he eventually performed and taught to the kids at camp (it was a HIT), me chilled and sitting inside the drum of a warm dryer with the door open listening and chatting with him from there. I can imagine what it would've looked like to anyone who happened to walk into the place...... you couldn't see me. You would've only seen a guy all on his own facing a dryer strumming away, responding to the "voice" coming out of the warm dryer. Luckily (and this is the other memory) only an old drunk stumbled in, three sheets to the wind, intent on cleaning up his booty. I can't remember all the items that he threw into a machine, but most definately one of them was the paper bag used to hide his preferred libation........London Supreme perhaps? He was so hammered that he was harmlessly funny.

More Laundry..........

My daughter arrives home today for a two day respite from her camp. Its been two weeks since she was home...... and I can't wait to see her. Sadly, her accumulated laundry will be accompanying her........damp, dirty and LOTS of it. ugh! At least it won't be as crazy as her last trip home. That time, she brought two lovely and exuberantly wonderful new friends home along with their laundry. Oh, no.........I didn't take it all on. That would fall under the category of "Enabling Parenting Techniques..." We all took turns until our dryer heaved a sigh of relief when it was done. For the most part, we were organized and kept everyone's stuff in their own piles. However, I have pulled out a couple of thongy looking bits of material out of my underwear drawer that I know for a fact ain't mine, and wonder if they could fit anything but a Beanie Baby.

For some reason, the camp Martha is attending doesn't have laundry services arranged, which is crazy! Given how yucky wet it has been since they officially turned this country into a Rain Forest zone in June, I can't imagine how anyone there has stayed ahead of the drizzle, grime and mud. When I was at camp, every week each group of campers and staff (usually 8 campers and two staff) would sort their collective pile and stuff it ALL into assigned canvas bags the size of large mail bags....... for transport to West Guilford. Can you imagine??? 120 kids, 30 staff.........??? We sent it just after dinner one night and it would arrive clean, folded and still warm by breakfast the next day. It was a miracle I tell ya!! A freakin' miracle! Though I did feel sorry for the folks on the other end who put in a full night of work.

24 machines........... making everything shiny clean.

I remember one "laundry" night after a particularly wet week of fun and frolics. We had played some kind of wide camp game which ended in a fun filled Kangaroo Court. The youngest group of boys who lived in a cabin together called "Bears Claw" somehow won the chance to have their choice of camp counsellor tuck them in and read them a story. They chose me. What an honour! So, off I went that evening to share my best story voice to a bunch of 7 year old boys.

When I arrived, I was so surprised to find them ALL in bed already with their sleeping bags pulled right up to their chins. Normally, they were a rambunctious crew. I had figured they would be hanging from their bunkbeds being silly. Instead, they seemed overly nervous about me being in their cabin. I wondered how long it would actually take me to get them all sleeping before I could leave and let them be for the night. I also wondered what was going on....it felt like there was a secret amongst them, which I wasn't privy to. Well, it turned out that their own Counsellors (Skagg being one of them...and we know how he feels about cleanliness. He wrote a song about it!) sent EVERYTHING to the laundry except for one pair of gotch per kid.

Even though I was a grown up in their eyes, the thought of having a "girl" around knowing they were only in their skivvies was beyond the pale! Years and years later, at a celebration held in Toronto for all the staff who had worked at Kawabi, I sat with a few of those same boys....all grown up in their 30's and had a beer with them. I hadn't seen them since that summer. It had been my last one as a camp counsellor. So, when I spotted them sitting together all rowdy and having fun, I had to join them! And the memory of me visiting their cabin that night was mentioned in laughter. :)Hanging Laundry...............

There is nothing more aromatically inviting than the smell of crisp clean sheets dried in the summer breezes on a clothes line. Its funny how there used to be rules about not hanging out your laundry on a Sunday. Offensive to God? Was it just that you werent supposed to do any work on that day, so hanging out the laundry was a no no? I'm sure there were many homes back when this was an issue that were filled to the rafters with wet things draped everywhere..... just so there wouldn't be any nosey neighbours tongues clicking! We sure have strange human rules don't we?

This summer hasn't been a great drying season..........for the hay or the laundry. So, when a nice day happens to show up in between the sheets of rain, you can count on every single person with a clothesline to be busy hanging it out no matter what day it is. Crisp and clean once again....... for a while.

For more Laundry episodes and photos.............check out Carmi at Written Inc. He and the others have a few picture stories to share......

rain reflections of camp.....

I had a short catch up kind of conversation with my daughter last night on the phone. She's busy at her camp in the counsellor in training program, and is having the time of her life. So much so, that I think she's almost oblivious of how crappy the weather has been all summer long.

We have yet to have a string of sunny days. The temperatures are cool. The skies have been grey. The land is soggy. It feels more like early spring except everything is so lush it looks juicy. The flowers in the garden are bent over in surrender, too damped down by the wet lashings that they havent the energy to spring to attention. Instead, the blooms cower in anticipation of another downpour.

I asked my daughter how bad it was there in dampcampland..... Upbeat and perky, she admitted that she doesn't have a dry towel left, but they were all coping with it. In fact, she had just been swimming in the river to clean up after sliding in the mud. "It was great Mom. We put our bathing suits on and ran around the camp looking for mudpuddles to slide in. We were coated in it! It was a blast!!" Fun? WOW!

After we said goodbye, she was off to the Lodge to hang out with the rest of the CIT's...no doubt in front of a big blazing fire in the old fieldstone fireplace. No doubt someone would have a guitar in hand. No doubt there would be wishes and dreams, and plans aromatically floating from their comfort of belonging. No doubt they would offer up their hopes and bits about themselves into the communal basket of growing kindredness. Relaxed, unhurried, content, my daughter and her friends sprawled out on the wooden floor of the old lodge in front of the fire most likely spent an evening of broadening their connections through conversations, cardgames, music, and comraderie. I could envision it like it was something I had experienced myself. Why? Because I have and those memories I hold dearly.

Rainy summers working at a children's camp conjure up very different nostalgic scenes than the hot sunny long hazy day ones. Regular activities are often swept aside for different open ended adventures where you learn to live within the elements and have fun. Mind over matter always wins! Though it was hard work to push past the expectations of sunny paddles and blue sky sailings, you learned different skills by recognizing that rainy days offer gifts of deeper friendships. If you let it happen.

I remember summers when the rain was unrelenting, when moods were attached to short fuses, when pushing through the elements took a lot of energy. Leaders couldn't whine no matter how consistently dour the skies were. They were the backbone of enthusiasm. But it would take its toll. When this happened.....when there was a shift to a sense of surrender, our number one much loved leader, Skip, would decide to change things up by allowing his staff to sleep in a bit and along with a couple of his senior staff, would take every single camper, usually 120 or so on a long rainy day hike. Sounds like drudgery doesn't it? Far from it!!! Those hikes were ADVENTURES.....SKIN SOAKING FUN.

But, here was the catch. While he entertained the troops....taking them through the woods, down untravelled paths, away into the mystery of the forrest to a long forgotten old logging road and a haunted house called Blagdon Manor ..... while he led them in songs and chants and quick stops to check out new fauna, the rest of the staff had the morning to stretch, work together drink coffee and plan. Why? Because when the troops returned, swampy, muddy, happy, hungry and a little played out, they would be expecting a full out camp experience like no other. Planning consisted of working as a team to conjure up a whole slew of activities, usually under a theme, and usually ending in a dance in Squamish Hall. So many of those fantastic days swim out of my memory bank this morning that I feel upbeat just remembering them.... Staff talent nights (always hilarious!), capture the flag marathons, water baseball in the rain, Skit nights, Indoor games.... Guys and Girls, Counsellor hunts, Kangaroo Courts.... and theme days!

One year, we turned the camp into a Pirate's Training Den. It all began while the kids, then clean, dry and finishing a hot hearty lunch when a group of Pirates sailed around the point, right onto the shores of Camp Kawabi...... We had decorated one of the old outboard boats, The Stable Mabel and turned it into a sailing vessel.... A group of the most "vicious" looking staff dressed in their very best pirate rags loudly announced their invasion. Within no time, the whole camp ran down to the lake to find out what was going on, only to realize they were all held capture, thrown into groups, given pirate family names and promptly introduced to the idea that in order to become pirates themselves, they had to pass a bunch of "matey" tests, which had been set up in various spots all over the camp. If they passed the tests, they would be given their own head scarf and eye patch (all created that morning by a busy bouyant group of leaders).

As the skies threatened above, we were able to ignore its menacing ways and band together in a day of fantasy and imagination. How cool is that? Fun? WOW! A rainy day..... and I bet it was one of the highlights of almost every single person, no matter what age, of their summer. Laughter and song shared with 150 people is hard to ever forget. I loved rainy day activities..... I loved finding those mudpuddles and showing my group of campers how to slide with glee. You can always get clean..... You can't always find the mudpuddles...

After a long energy spilling day, which always left everyone smiling in exhaustion, we'd tuck our campers in and head up to the lodge. In quiet small groups, we'd form around the fieldstone fireplace. No doubt someone had a guitar in hand. No doubt there were wishes and dreams, and plans aromatically floating from our comfort of belonging. No doubt we offered up our hopes and bits about ourselves into the communal basket of growing kindredness. Relaxed, unhurried, content, and closer than ever..... rainy days can do that.

Ah, I now want to go find Blagdon Manor again. And why do I all of sudden want to wrap a scarf around my head? Arrrrrrrrr..........matey.........

ps.... what do you know? I finished this piece and the sun came out.... for a little while. :)

off on an adventure.....transitions in the making

After spending the week hanging out with her close friends, saying good bye to some who were taking off to do amazing things for the summer, and attending a party in her honour because she too was about to embark on an amazing summer, my daughter arrived home exhausted and contented. She summed it up beautifully by saying ....."I'm in such a good place with all of my friends. I'm ready now." In order to be ready for this next big step in her life, Martha instinctively knew what she needed to do. I could see it in her face. I heard it in her voice. Her words spoke volumes. She was ready.

Half way through last week, I wondered if she was having second thoughts about spending the summer away from home at a children's camp in a counsellor in training program. But, I could see the frenzy in her actions to arrange her week around the important friends in her life.....to be there to say goodbye to them as they ventured off and to say goodbye for her own sake. And it worked. Yesterday, we packed the van with an enormous amount of "stuff," stopped at the Blue Canoe restaurant for a big scarf of a breakfast and dropped her off at her summer home away from home.....Camp.

We stayed for a short time.....got her settled a little bit in a big cabin she will be sharing with 8 other girls the same age, and then wandered around the grounds of the camp as she moved into the group of new staffers. There was an immediate sense of belonging, as many of them were campers together over the past couple of years. There was also a sense of unease....a bit of discomfort, wondering what to say, what to expect......how it would all unfold.....the new kids standing back from the core group because they are so much more tentative. I watched, standing off the to side where I wouldn't be seen, knowing the butterfly feelings strumming in the bellies intimately. Long ago, I had been there too. First day of camp has that effect.

The day before, my daughter and I had talked on and off as she packed. I tried to hold back on sharing my own memories, and I tried not to give too many "words of advice....." which I'm apt to do. She knows most of my camp stories...... is aware that I'm still in touch with several camp kindreds. So, I didn't feel the need to rehash my stuff. I was just so pleased and excited for her and could see that as much as I wanted this opportunity for Martha, I felt at ease that she had made this decision on her own....that this is something she wanted for herself and hadn't made the decision to be a camp counsellor to please me. I listened to the stories of her previous week .... the ones she wanted to share with me, and I could see a really happy beautiful girl standing in front of me whom I thoroughly enjoy spending time with.

What I did decide to offer to the conversation? How exciting and profound her friendships with her peers will become through all the sharing and "new" adventures. I also told her that there will be times when you know instinctively you have touched a child in a profound way and it feels terrific, but that there will be even more kids whom you will never know about. They won't tell you....or they won't even know it until later in life, but that something you've done.... a kind gesture, a slow down listening moment....a memorable moment sitting around a campfire....recognizing their homesickness when words aren't spoken. You just never know...... but the more you interact with others.... all ages, the more you learn about your own gifts and your own self and the more of an impact you will make in the lives of others. It goes hand in hand.

While I watched the new staffers interacting for the first time as a group, I also couldn't help but think of how far my daughter has moved away from holding on tight to me. Painfully shy and unsure as a little one, I literally had to carry her into the kindergarten class. She would pout every time I left her, even if her father and brother were around. To say it felt claustrophobic is an understatement. It was difficult and I didn't know how to deal with it most of the time. Her first couple of attempts at spending a week at a camp were disasters. In fact, i had to go get her halfway through one stint because she wasn't able to calm herself down at night to go to sleep.

Determined to overcome this, and the shy girl label hovering over her head, she quietly made a concerted effort once she hit middle school when she was 11 years old. She joined a leadership program, took to the stage, sought out new friends who had common interests and began to blossom. It wasn't until months after school had started that year, that she shared her "plan" with her Dad and I. By then, her confidence was lifting and it was of her own making. Every year since then, our daughter has shown her beautiful true colours to more than just her immediate family.

This transition towards more independence ...... one Martha has chosen herself and one she has worked really hard to be as prepared as one can be on the cusp of being 16...... is symbolic on so many levels. We see it and applaud. We are tremendously proud of her; of how she composes herself, of how she intuitively can "read" others, of how kind and considerate she is when she calls us to let us know where she is and what she's up to ...... knows no boundaries. No doubt there will be stumbles and tears. No doubt there will be major frustrations and heartbreak. No doubt there will be even bigger joyful transitions in Martha's life. Who knows what the future holds? We can't predict and we sure as heck can't control it. All we can do is stop and recognize life events as they come and savour them as they evolve. Yesterday, I stood and watched and savoured how much I love her.

As much as we are missing her and will continue to feel her absence so much this summer, we all know Martha is where she wants to be. And because of that, I can honestly state "I'm ready."

I think.....

possibilities.

Early Saturday morning and I found myself driving 4 beautiful 15 year old girls to a weekend at a summer camp about an hour and a half away from town. They have all applied for jobs as CIT's (Counsellor in Training)and are competing against 28 kids for 16 positions. The whole excitable crew converged at the camp with the Director and summer staff for a tryout of sorts! They were so cute, and so excited and so nervous and knowing how psyched my own daughter has been throughout the winter as we approached this formidable weekend, I'm sure the other families have experienced the same jitters along with waves of doubts and bravado .

Still on the verge of innocence, though worldly in their own ways….knowledgeable and aware, their anticipation of what lies ahead was contagious! We stopped at the "Blue Canoe" Irving Big Stop on the TransCanada for a treat and off we went.......listening to their great choices of "indie" music while driving off the big highway and out into the country side, following the Saint John River south…..

You would love the scenery and landscape….the big beautiful trees….pine, birch, maple, towering evergreen, oak, cedar……., undulating hills and beautiful still water painted with reflections of the shoreline. It always makes me slide into a natural calm, like I feel when slipping into an old sweatshirt and a pain of worn in jeans. False pretenses and quickened paces disappear, packed away in a forgotten memory of "must do's." What is left as I find my way back to the countryside is an ambling soundtrack, strummed by someone who loves getting lost in the harmony, hunched over their guitar as one. There is a sense of reveries revisited, like the pull of a paddle on the sleepy surface of the deep bluegreen water below.

As we continued to hug the shoreline, the river widens a great deal and it has a feel of a lake where the camp is situated. This too holds familiarity for my own travels towards a place I hold dear in my own heart. Though my camp experiences happened many years ago, in a completely different part of this country, the scenery coupled with the excitement swirling in the conversations in the van allowed me to completely understand where these girls are in their lives, and what they have in store for them as they hold onto hope of being one of the handful chosen. Its funny, personal camp experiences............camper or staff........they all have the same bucket of feelings and very similar memories are gathered.

As I drove along, I longed to be sitting there as a 15 year old heading down the camp road again.......I guess we never lose that. Its not often I feel the urge to want to return to a younger age. But, when it comes to camp...........I'd do it over again in a minute!!!! And do it all the same.!! Even the big emotional roller coaster stuff that goes with adolescence.

Clouds and sunbursts……and new green where everywhere. I love the green of the season in its infancy….fields renewing….. a few deep purple blueberry fields restoring their growth…. Lovely cottages tucked along the river…….huge bales of hay rolled and left from last autumn…. Red roofs, tin roofs, big old country homes with scraped white peels and longed for porches that you know come June will be decorated with porch swings and bright colourful wicker, all to catch summer breezes. Inviting and private at the same time.....familial stories, ancestral ghosts creak into the large pine planks painted deep green.....whispers of the past......up and down the hills, turning off the country road onto another and another.......closer to our destination and the energy heightens.....

The girls went a little beserk when I pulled into the camp road…..squeals of delight and terror at the same time….were they going to be chosen???? It was LOUD! It was HILARIOUS!! These calm "I'm not nervous. Are you nervous??" teenagers let out a collective wail! I distinctly remember the feeling…..all youthful adrenaline surging hope, tumbling with the what if's….

I pulled into the driveway, and we all piled out of the van quickly……to be accosted by the familiarity of pine curled in wood smoke, and mossy mulch layered under the bare budded trees….the girls ran ahead to be enveloped in a large group hug from last summer kindreds. My heart felt full.......my own yearnings to feel the heat of my own kindreds surged through me. All these years later, I still have deep longings for those times. The sense of belonging never feels as sweet......

After a short stint…just to make sure they had all their gear…..and one last piece of advice "Just be your beautiful selves!!!!" .I got back in the van alone…. And took the long way home….. Just me and Mr. Springsteen…. And a view to die for. Layers of my armour fell off………possiblities visited…..I stopped and took photos whenever I wanted too, and thought about how much I would love to show you my part of this world.

I think I'm a country girl. Worn jeans and an old sweatshirt, a pair of comfie shoes that fit my sockless feet...... I feel most beautiful in that attire. I am my best sheltered in a cove of tall pine or standing in a open field surrounded by green innocence and bales to climb...... the possibilities are endless. Come join me?

kawabi comfort and joy

Black bird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

all your life

you were only waiting for this moment to be free

The other day, as I headed to my car in the back parking lot of my office building I was struck by the bitterness of the cold winds. Flurries were swirling above the pavement like fairy dust lost. It was cold. Winter had finally arrived. We had been lucky. November had granted us a overflowing river of rain, but the breezes had been palatable. The cold winds demanded the respect of wool. The transition between seasons, especially from warm to cold, from lightness to early darkness is cruel.

As I drove away, I wanted to shake off the thought that this weather is only going to get worse. It is Canada for God's sake. The cold is going to drop to inhumane temperatures and the snow is going to dump from the heavens. Ice will make walking treacherous. Slush will only bring misery. It is what we're known for........winter.........well, that and making love in canoes.....we do that well too..... oh, and we have an abundance of maple syrup and men who dress in red uniforms and chase bad people through the woods. oh, and humour.....thank the Lord we've inherited the absurdist humour gene....well except for Clyde Wells. He's a defect. I mean really, who ever heard of a politician from Newfoundland who didn't know how to tempt our palate with wit??

So....where was I? oh, yeah starting up my cold van ....... I thought to myself ..... hmmmm .... beautiful self ................... if I could choose to be anywhere else right at this moment, where would it be? And, surprisingly a little shack in the woods clearly popped into my internal slide projector. My old craft shop. With a blink of a thought, all at once I was transported to a little cabin tucked into the familiar woods of my youth. It was blinking back at me. Not only that, the visual recollection was accompanied by a simple yet haunting Beatles tune.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night.

I've always loved that song, probably because it has such a deep connection to my old craft shop. There are very few places I can think of which resonate a sense of comfort and joy for me. Its not "comfort" as in a soft sofa sense either. It's a feeling of being connected to a collective sense of belonging and all that is right in the world. Do you know that feeling? Its rare, but when it is there, it is a whole mind and body feel.

The craft shop was a sanctuary for many. It sat up the beaten path behind the painted rock off on its own away from all the other fluttering, bantering commotion of camp. Every morning when the kids signed up for activities, crafts would fill up first. We always had a full shop of happy campers in search of a place to be creative, but more than anything a place to catch their breath after a more rigourous activity of swimming, snorkelling, paddling, sailing, water skiing. They would arrive and line up by the painted rock until the bell chimed to announce the beginning and then scramble inside....the screen door banging behind them as they grabbed a spot on the benches which were smattered in years of paint. In fact there wasn't a spot on the walls, ceiling or the wooden beams which held the place together (barely) that didn't have a name and dates painted on it. The craft shop was Kawabi's signature palace. 40 years worth of names decorate the little shack. Mine is in red.......Dana/Muskie, 1970-1981......the summers where my voice was a part of the echos.....

There was no chapel building at camp.....no need really because anyone who embraced the place as their own knew it was all a little piece of heaven on earth. Chapel services moved from one place to another most Sundays........in the middle of the woods, in the lodge, down on the beach, even across the beautiful blue lake on an island not too far away. But, if I had to choose a place where I always found a sense of awareness and fellowship, it would within the walls of that little craft shop.

It doesn't exist anymore and neither does Camp Kawabi.....except in a wide range of kindreds' memories. It will live on...... Actually, the craft shop began to sag a while back and was replaced by a more fancier shmancier place right off the road into camp....definately not the same. So, it has had time to begin to sink back into the ground.

There's a melancholy feel to my memories of the times shared with friends, both during the daytime and in the evenings after the campers had been tucked in for the night. That was the time when quiet enveloped the whole camp.......and if you wanted to be still with your thoughts or share a spot alone with a friend, you could always find it up the beaten path away from it all. I can still "go there" in my reflections whenever I need to.

Melancholy...... it seems like a sad feeling when you look at the surface of it. It was what I was feeling when I got into the van that night......cold at twilight.....but it led me to a place of comfort and a moment of joy. Not a bad drive home. The flurries never touched me.... only bittersweet comfort and joy........ and the melancholy of the blackbird.....

A Camp Kawabi Sunday Chapel.

This morning, I was supposed to be leading a group in Sunday chapel service. At one point in my life, when I was in my late teens and early twenties living and learning as a children's summer camp counsellor, I led this part of the week every Sunday......with a little help from my friends of course.

Some of those friends have gathered this weekend for a reunion..........at another camp site in eastern Ontario owned and operated by one of our very own. Close to 50 people, camp counsellors of all ages, all of whom lived and worked and grew up on the same camp menu as I did, albeit some at different times over the course of a 40 year timeframe made the trek to hang out together. Due to the circumstances in my family life (my husband is doing very well and has physically recovered almost completely........thank you for all of your concern and support) I wasn't able to make it this time. Next time..........next time.

Needless to say, I may be physically present here in my home sitting at my computer, I am emotionally and spiritually at Camp Otterdale, and will "be" with them in that capacity as they gather together to give thanks to life and friendship. The theme of the chapel today is "Moving Forward......" My intentions as to how I was going to organize the service were cast aside and instead I sent the following offering on how music is the force behind our past, our present and our future............how it ties us together in feeling and kinship. I want to post it today to share with you as I believe some of the points I have made are universally felt. I also wanted to share this with any Camp Kawabi kindreds who just may stumble across this blog looking for a bit of nostalgic resonance.

It should be noted that as camp counsellors, we all had nicknames.........all of which have their own stories behind the naming. Mine was Muskie. Yes, there are a handful of people who know me as that and not by my real name. In fact, when I was speaking to a few old buddies yesterday, Muskie was the nom de plume. Actually, I am much more Muskie than I am anyone else..........but that's for another post. So, the names in this piece are nicknames.........

My heart is definately elsewhere this morning.........enjoying one of the most meaningful renditions of what camp was all about..........found in the shared faith of Sunday morning chapels, in the middle of the gathering of friends.

_______________________________

Musical ties that bind.

As I was driving to work the other day, I popped in a new CD my husband had given to me the night before…..John Hiatt’s latest offerings. As soon as the first guitar chords filled my van, his voice starting singing an upbeat folksy tune, I found myself transported right into the heart of the song like it was a familiar old sweater….. like I had worn it before. And yet, it was brand new. How could that be?

By the middle of the song, I was singing the chorus. The words and the tune found me because it had the perfect combination for a great Kawabi classic…….of summer listening in the Hub, in a car on a day off, during a late night campfire in the lodge on a cool August night. Of course, my first act when I reached my office was to scribble out an email to Skagg to ask him if he had heard it yet. I didn’t even have to ask if he liked Hiatt. I just knew he would. I just knew.

I remember a few years back, I was standing in my kitchen making Sunday dinner, listening to Neil Young’s, Harvest Moon, another Kawabi classic that was recorded LONG after I had spent my Muskie summers on the shores of Big Hawk Lake. And yet………there I was physically standing in my kitchen, but emotionally, spiritually…………? I was swaying to familiarity on the front porch of the infirmary….with Luten and Fastback during work crew in 1981?? 1981?? Amazingly, I automatically felt a tie back to a relaxing evening long ago after a hard day of completing jobs around camp.

Music can be timeless.

Music lifts us out of the dust of everyday life and allows us to FEEL a thought. Not only that, it allows us to experience the same emotions, which are also timeless. People everywhere are the same in heart and spirit. Music threads our hearts together, no matter how distant the space is between us……no matter when. We live in a sea of constant change, while trying our best to “live in the moment”….a song, a tune, even just the right note helps us take a step into our own rhythm, where eternity meets us in the present. It is that feeling which allows us a glimpse to seeing music as the common denominator, as the means to which we connect in spirit.

There are two sensory triggers that pull me back to Kawabi in a flash…….the fresh scent of pine is the first one. No matter where I am when I inhale that aroma, it fills me with a smile and a clear picture of walking up the path from the girls tentline for dinner after a sunkissed busy day.

The second trigger…………? An old song, whether it was one sung after dinner with gusto, or one played on the tapedeck in the craft shop, or a rockin’ tune at a dance, or whether it was a hymn sung during Sunday chapel……….a song from my days as a camper and counsellor envelopes me with sweet memories. I think we all share these two triggers. Some of the songs may be different but the flow back in time is the same, isn’t it?

Music IS timeless……..

It is the golden thread woven into the tapestries we continue to create of our lives lived…. It is the constant that links us to our pasts, that enhances our present, that is anticipated in our future. What I find so interesting is that there are some songs like the John Hiatt song, the chorus by the way begins with the line………”old days are coming back to me……” capture a past thought and feeling so vividly! Amazing.

These two triggers……….the lovely scent of pine and the kind of music which stirs my Kawabi memories are two of the reasons why I have found my home in the Maritimes. All around me is the fresh air pine…………….all around me are songs that could easily be strummed and sung around a campfire with a bunch of Kawabi kindreds. Music is in the fabric of this part of our country…….and NOT just the fiddling kind! Folk songs, the ones with the catchy kitchen party feel to it are here in abundance. And one of them, written by a local Fredericton guy named David Myles floated to the surface last year, won an international award and captured my full attention. I loved it the very first time I heard it.

The first Kawabi person I shared it with was Daisy………I just knew he would LOVE it too. Not only did that, he quickly learned the chords and the lyrics as we plotted to present it to you at chapel today. The second person I shared it with is my dear friend Skagg, who due to circumstances will be going it solo! You know, this song is meant to be in the hands of Skagg……….

It is my hope that this tune will be added to our ever growing Kawabi songbook which contains the golden threads from our personal tapestries……….a song sung in the present, and hopefully for your future enjoyment when you find yourself on your way to work one day in need of the feel of a familiar sweater. May you find yourself this morning enjoying a heart and spirit moment together when eternity touches down on the present as you sing along. I will be singing along too.

here is the song for your enjoyment...........please feel free to let it rip!.........xx (ps, the man accompanying Myles in the video is Thom Swift who is another local musician. He has his own solo album out, and is also a member of a well known band in the Maritimes especially called Hot Toddy.........a bluesy feel to this band......AND I was at this particular concert.........can you hear me in the chorus??)

David Myles performing at the songwriters circle during the East Coast Music Awards. My kids and I had front row seats!!

an evensong for a special friend

settling silence

new to the air once filled with

strummed songs sung in harmonious inebriation

animated hilarity soaked in remember whens

crowd circled catch ups of stories

carrying a fabric woven together

in late night star threads

and fluming plumes of smoke littered in crackling sparks

laughter from the step dancing fire

drawing us nearer into glowing merriment.

Now, as the embers die down

voices find hushed tones

quiet cadences capture late night truths

steeped in sleep as they slip away from the firecircle

into the cooling dark

leaving us lost in our own unchartered time.

I just wanna go on with you....

huddled in hip touching intimacy

our lips whispering truths

only spoken when honesty finds eternity

near the pulling tides of time.

I just wanna go on with you

into the late night

where treasured secrets feed the glowing red embers

of barefoot cuddled warmth under a sandy blanket

We'll feed the fire

and settle into the new silence

before dawn steals the mystery

when our own embracing sleep will find us.

Written for Sunday Scribblings with youthful remembrance. The prompt this week is "my nights." For more offerings, check out their site.

life scripts written in pencil

sunrise from my vantage point, April 9, 2008

I love a good mystery and there aren't any better stories than the surprise twists and turns found in our own lives. Mysteries always have subplots that can leave you wondering about the purpose, or the reason behind it. Sometimes it becomes clear as it weaves back into the original plot, and sometimes you are left dangling in the thin air of the unknown. Not everything has a concrete, hold in your hands, reason.........even when it comes to wondering why someone has entered into your life in a profound manner. Our stories are life scripts which need to be written in pencil in order for the opportunity to make revisions is always an option. Because, well.....you just never know when an impacting event, person, thing will alter the trajectory. Gotta be ready for the possibility of life changes. Gotta be ready for an adventure.

Have you ever wondered why you have met someone...........sometimes they arrive in the nick of time, to point something out to you, or to teach you a life lesson which until then you seem to have missed. Sometimes they become friends.........good friends who become accomplices in helping you figure out part of the mystery. They become key players in your life script and you in theirs.....additions to a story that could easily become staid and stale from a "written in stone" mentality if it were not for the freshness found in being open to new perspectives, new ideas. More often than not, the changes to the script have to do with the people who enter our lives.......the joys and sorrows we share, along with the highs and lows all can precipitate the possibility of changing our storyline.

What I love about this idea is that we just never know when one of these plot twisters will show up. Everyone we meet has the capacity to affect your life, but in reality however, there are only a select few who are meant to be a part of your destiny. This is where the dividing line is between friends and kindred spirits.

In the summer of 1978, when I was 17 years old going on 18, I met a new friend at a summer camp we were working at. Laura was the only new person to be hired to join a staff of people who had been weaned as campers and staff at Camp Kawabi. How daunting was that? In she blew like a fresh breeze which stirred the group who had been comfortably and perhaps too staidly settled and from the moment she arrived, I knew my life had changed. I knew I had found a kindred spirit. Our friendship seemed to soar upwards to a place rich in openness and understanding, where very few friendships ever reach. Looking at how quickly we bonded back then, it seemed like it was an instanteous happening. We were inseparable...... two chatty, ever laughing, always plotting adolescent girls. We had a BLAST that summer. .... and the next summer.......

Our natural friendship continued to evolve outside of our idyllic summers at camp despite our "lives" at home. Though we didn't live in the same city, we arranged weekends at each other's homes as often as we could. It seemed like our friendship would continue to grow and evolve as part of our lifelong life scripts. But, somehow, somewhere along the line, as Camp ceased to be our summer connector, and as we focused on our studies, lived in different cities, we somehow lost touch. In fact the last time I saw Laura was on her wedding day. By then, I had moved onto Toronto to begin my graduate studies. Our worlds were different.....she establishing herself as a teacher, and me still working away in my studies.

Of all the friends who have come and gone...........whom I have walked a mile or two with, never in a million years would I have thought that I would lose touch with Laura. And yet, it happened. I havent seen her in almost 25 years. I hadn't heard from her either.........we were lost to one another, until this week. On Monday, I received an email from my long lost friend. I couldn't be happier. What has surprised me was my reaction.......oh, there were tears of joy when I realized what had just happened, and a little shock that so much time had slipped by. But, the overall feeling I am experiencing is one that floats in a sense of calm. I had always felt that our life scripts would intertwine again. I don't know why I felt that, but it was one of those things that just seemed destined.



"I was lost, but now am found......." these were the words Laura wrote on the camp website tonight to let others know too. I just may see her in June at a planned reunion if she can swing it. In only a couple of months, Muskie and Wasabun may be sitting down on the beach under the stars swigging some wine and laughing again like two adolescent girls.

Amazing grace indeed. Life's mysteries are marvellous.