It's A Small, Small World

The solstice nears. I know this mostly due to my sleepless state, which is caused by our 16-hour long days. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but it would be nice to sleep in past 5:15 each morning. Unfortunately, our local flock of birds makes that extremely difficult, and so I persist through my mind's foggy state. Nevertheless, I love summer. As a teacher, my battery is drained and in need of recharging. As a Northwesterner, my body seeks to replenish its store of vitamin D. And as a working parent whose life is just a little too busy, I relish the slower pace of life that summer brings.

It's difficult for me to welcome summer and not think about Aloha Hive, the camp in Vermont where I spent two summers as a young girl. This was a camp that my mom went to for eight summers and my sister for two. I knew I was destined to follow in their footsteps, but the timing came a little sooner than expected. When I was just 7 years old, my mom needed to have a triple bypass, a surgery that was brand new back in the late sixties. As I packed up to go to camp, I had no idea that there was a 50/50 chance my mom would still be alive upon my return. I only knew that I was headed off to a place in Vermont that was a part of my family's heritage; a place with a lake and archery, tennis, hiking, and canoeing; a place with canvas tents on platforms; a place that grouped tent families by funny names like Elphins, Dolphins, and Lolanders; a place with musicals and arts and crafts; a place where I would experience my first bout of homesickness. For most people, it's a very foreign idea to send a 7-year-old away for the entire summer, but on the East Coast this is far more common. At seven I would be a year younger than was typical for a first-year camper, but the longtime director was a friend of the family, and my parents were certain I would be able to handle it. The fear they were facing at home was far greater than anything I would experience in this bucolic environment.

I have so many memories from Aloha, although I can't say that first summer was easy. I distinctly remember lying awake in my cot at night, listening to the cars that would pass on a distant road and imagining the happy family inside that was headed off together on a vacation. It saddened me to be so far from my own family, but in the morning I would travel down to the dining hall, a beautiful building that sat on a lake, and find my mom's and my sister's names listed on the wood-panelled ceiling along with every other camper that had ever attended Aloha. Finding their names made me feel right at home again. I thrived with all the athletic endeavors and loved taking part in the music programs. I have little doubt these summers set the stage for future pursuits and my love for the outdoors, as well as my strong sense of independence.

My mom was indeed home and recuperating when I returned in August. I went back to Aloha the following summer but that would be my last. Staying closer to home just sounded better, but unlike any other camp I attended as I progressed through the elementary years, Aloha has always held a special place in my heart. It is particularly on my mind  right now because just a few weekends ago, my sister attended a board meeting in New York City for the Aloha Camps.While there, she struck up a conversation with a woman named Jan. As my sister recounted the years she attended and shared with her our maiden name, Jan said, "Do you know Jo Nelson?" What a surprise for both of them to realize that Jan was not only a part of the counselor alumni -- she was MY counselor! Here we all are in our tent family photo at the end of my second camp season:

If you have ever been a camp counselor and wondered if your campers remembered you beyond your season of togetherness, the answer is yes. When my sister mentioned Jan's name, her picture instantly came back into my mind along with our tent, the tether ball courts I made every attempt to rule, the "jinx" (bathroom), beautiful Lake Morey, learning to like tomatoes while hiking, camp songs, and so much more. I'd give anything to thank her in person for helping an 8-year-old feel happy and content so far from home for two months.

Summer is my down time, and although I don't have Lake Morey's beautiful sunsets to paddle off into, I do have memories and a pretty good imagination. And so you may often find me, seated in an adirondack chair with gin and tonic in hand, gazing out over our backyard and quietly singing:

When the shadows deepen on the hillside
As darkness falls on lake and shore
Gather we to sing to dear Aloha
As we go to our tents once more
Aloha - oy, Aloha -oy, our hearts will ever loyal be
And faithful true, the long years through
Shall be our love for thee

Gin and Tonic:
2 oz. gin (my preference goes to Bombay Saffire because the bottle by itself screams "summer")
5 oz. tonic water
dash of Angostura bitters
lime wedge for garnish
Fill a highball glass with ice and pour in the ingredients. Grab an adirondack and sing your favorite camp song. Aloha.