Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah,

Thank you for the priceless gift you gave me this summer – the gift of summer camp!!

Thank you for the glamour . . . and the mystique of summer camp.

Thank you for a place where I could create a new world on a blank slate. . . to invent my best self . . . and make first new impressions.

Thank you for placing me in a unique setting that allowed me to feel a sense of connectedness, belonging and safety . . . and an acceptance of and appreciation for me.

Thank you for turning me loose to play freely – and, in so doing, I have acquired a sense of playfulness that hopefully will survive well beyond my youth.

Thank you for sending me to camp – a child-centered environment where the hurry, stress and demands of life away from camp were almost totally eliminated.

Thank you for providing me with a place where I could make my own fun and most importantly, make my own choices.

Thank you for allowing camp to teach me what positive things to say and do when I made mistakes and faced challenges – without feeling bad about or unsure of myself.
Thank you for giving me the chance to choose my own activities instead of doing what was expected.

Thank you for sending me to a place where I could make new friends, enjoy the outdoors, short-sheet my counselors’ beds and try and try and sneak candy into my cabin.

Thank you for staying “connected” with me this summer through your handwritten letters.

Thank you for indirectly teaching me an important life lesson that  will surely stay with me through adulthood: even though at first it was a scary experience  being away from you, I know now that I can take care of myself.

Thank you for letting me go which I know is not always easy for a parent to do.

Thank you for the fond, fuzzy memories of a summer where I lived with camp friends in bunk-filled cabins in the woods.

Thank you for the opportunity to take canoe trips down remote stretches of river and help pitch tents, collect firewood,  prep and cook some of my own meals. Thank you letting me sleep underneath the stars.  These experiences have given me a kind of self-confidence I am not sure I could have gotten any other way.

Thank you for sending me to camp where I learned that I was competent in ways I never dreamed possible.

Thanks for not coming to get me when I begged to come home.  As a result I learned that you have faith in my abilities to adjust to whatever comes my way.

Thank you for the opportunity to live in a cramped small living space with a group of girls – many of whom I did not know until camp – who are now some of my best friends . . . and surely will be for the rest of my life.

Thank you for the lessons about responsibility, teamwork and leadership – skills that I can now take back to home and school . . . and beyond . . .

Thank you for the chance to learn that requiring all kids to do everything equally well is a mistake – and that, instead, my individual talents and interests – found, tapped, nurtured and applauded at camp – set me apart in all ways good.

Thank you for providing me a place where I could develop my independence and grow in confidence.

Thank you (I think??) for allowing camp to make me clean the cabin, hop and clear at meals, sort and fold my own clothes.

Thank you for the opportunity to live with girls whom I didn’t always get along with but with whom I learned to deal with our differences in a productive positive way.

Thank you for putting me into a situation where I could really test my limits . . . and expand my horizons.

Thank you for allowing me to develop resiliency – by learning, when I sometimes fall short, how to bounce back from everyday challenges.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to make my own decisions . . .  discover my own strengths . . .

Thank you for allowing my cabin counselor to do her best to help me get through it when I was homesick, upset or sad.

Thank you for the opportunity to be embraced by unique and special traditions and customs  – the “secret codes” of my camp.

Thank you for a chance to experience new adventures.

Thank you for the ability to surprise even myself when I found that I could achieve results in spite of seemingly insurmountable odds.

Thank you for providing me with an experience that will surely reap benefits for a lifetime.

Thank your for allowing me to step out of my comfort zone, to spread my wings and learn to fly.

Thank you for the gift of camp.

Love,
Your Happy Camper

I woke abruptly, with a catch in my throat as I realized the immediacy of the day, both for myself and for her.

I have missed her. I am aching to put my arms around her after a month’s absence. I am so eager to hear her stories of archery and camping trips and Tribe Day and evening talent shows. And after a while, I know, she will drop back into her own-selfness, and I will lose the glimpse of Anne at camp.

But, this morning, I am feeling a lump in my own throat as I look at the clock and know they are loading the buses to leave camp. My own eyes are pricking as I consider the hugs, the last glances through the trees, the promises to write . . . Did it rain there last night, as it did here? Is the ground damp and earthy scented? Are the trees weeping raindrops onto the backs of weeping girls? Did anyone run down the steps to the lake, to breathe the morning mist and hear once more the kak-kak of the mergansers, perhaps the warbling of the loons? No doubt that beautiful, soft whispering of the lofty white pine branches is obscured this morning by gasping sobs and tearful laughter. How many girls look around, gulping it all in, distantly aware that it will never, ever be the same as it is today?

Girls will stay in touch; e-mails will be exchanged, letters will be sent, giddy reunions will take place. Campers and staff members will return another year. The jewel in the north woods will remain, preserved in hearts and memories through the winter. And then, next summer, the lodge, the Nutshell, the stone steps, the lake . . . all will be there. Small changes evolve, but camp will still be camp.

But it will never be the same as it is today, this month, this year. This precious moment, the one with the perfect synchronicity of cabin mates, tribe members, counselors, coincidence and weather will remain only in our remembering. In another month, another year, we will be older, we will view the world and each other . . . differently. We can never stand in exactly this wonderful place again.

I think kids get it as they say their goodbyes. One can, perhaps, survive just fine away from that friend who plays tetherball, without that counselor’s encouragement, without that play to rehearse. In a larger view, a picture broader than camp’s, these things may become less essential. But today, it is all here, all the fun, the challenge, the disappointment, the sweetness and wonder. It is all coalesced in a magical place and time, under the pines on a lake up north.

What we are saying farewell to is this moment, this month of magical moments, the amazing, exuberant serendipity of life at camp. Girls embrace counselors, clutch tightly to them as if to embed the feelings in their hearts. Moist-eyed and wistful faces watch the buses pull away through the tall pines. Some travelers will grow quiet as they make last looks, memorize the place, the faces, the feelings.

In a few hours, she’ll be home, back to the house and people she left a few weeks ago. In her soul, she carries a month of adventures. I want to hear them all. I want to know how her world has changed this month. I want to hear about canoeing blisters and gritty s’mores, windless sailing days and exhilarating performances. I want the details of every arrow gone astray, every toast at banquet, of Capture the Flag and Adventure Day. I want to hear all her triumphs and disappointments.

I’ll get a smattering. Some of it will be fun to tell, and she may or may not recreate for herself and for us the vividness, the immediacy and truth of each moment. I’ll hear a healthy dose of stories today, and tomorrow over lunch. And I crave that.

But, I’m guessing the most important stuff will seep out over the next weeks and months. A passing reference to the climbing wall, an off-hand remark about “. . . once, when I was on the Barnett . . .”, these will be the truly telling stories, the ones that ever-so-subtly and maddeningly gradually will show me what camp was about. It’ll be the stuff that comes out almost unconsciously. The things that have wormed their way into her outlook, that shape her perspective and influence her taste and choices. These are the thoughts and ideas that stay with her long after she’s left the magical place up north.

While these things that endure are, to my mind, the most precious part of her adventures at camp, they are also, paradoxically, what she is bidding farewell to this morning. Those poignant moments, the crystalline events that shape her new wisdom and understanding, these are ephemeral. The lessons and memories endure, but the process, the experience of acquiring the joy, the hurt, the hope, the wisdom and understanding is forever ensconced at Kamaji. It is those moments of enlightenment, whether conscious or not, those brilliant bits of Kamaji-flavored living that the girls say goodbye to this morning. The lessons, the memories, the sunburns and friendship bracelets all go home, but the lovely, luscious process of living and learning at camp stays at the end of the rainbow.

In a few hours, I’ll see her, my daughter will be home. I know she’ll be a little sad, a little disoriented, tired and dirty. I hope she’ll be a little bit happy to see us, to sleep in clean sheets and have plenty of hot water. I can’t wait to see her, to get my arms around her and to hold that brilliant rainbow tucked inside her.

Judy Welch Meisner
July 14, 2009
Kamaji Alumnae ‘67-’69, ‘71,’73
Kamaji Doctor ‘01-’09
Kamaji Camper Parent ‘08-’09

Each of the questions were followed by a list of multiple choice responses.   The responses to where I live were limited to choices urban, suburban and rural . . . followed by list of states.  Now truth is I live in two different places: in the off-season I am a resident of suburban Clayton, Missouri but during the summer, I reside . . . at camp — which happens to be in a rural area in the state of Minnesota.  But Camp was not even a boxed option to check off!!

Ticking of the appropriate boxes,  I  clichéd myself as married and having two kids (both boys) and a very fat cat.  Easy enough to answer.   But those single-choice responses did not take into account that I am “mom” to over 300 girls  every summer   . . . at camp!!  And that I have an additional three cats and a dog (Marjena’s brood) plus Oreo and Patch (Kamaji caretaker Randy’s two dogs) who spend almost every day . . . at Kamaji.  And then there’s the 10 horses . . .  at camp.

And, yes, I have had education beyond my college days — went to grad school in fact (where, by the way, I first  met Mike).  But there was no choice for education other than in a school environment.  How limiting given how much other-than-book-learning I’ve acquired thus far in my lifetime.  Think of all the learning that takes place . . . at camp!

And while there was a huge variety of occupations to choose from — everything from A to Z — there was not one mention of working . . . at camp!!  In actuality I should  check off  teacher and dietician/food service manager and medical liaison and counselor and accommodations manager and business manager and sometimes photographer and  videographer and youth worker and stay-at-home mom (after all I am at camp — my home-away-from-home — all summer long with my 300+ ‘daughters’).   But again I was limited to checking off only one occupation . . . and, again, camp director was not one of those choices!!

And, okay, so maybe I am 39+ years of age in real life but I am young-at-heart . . . at camp!!  (You guessed it —  “young-at-heart” is not a choice option!!)

Baffled as to how to accurately respond, I wonder what, if anything, my college will do — once it has compiled all my limited-to-one-choice responses — with the information??  After all, I can’t even respond to most of the questions because whatever answer I choose won’t fully describe who I am!!  Bottom line is: I cannot fit in tiny boxes with labels attached (i.e., urban, rural, married, single, no children, some children, dogs, cats, young-middle-aged, middle-aged, verging-on-old-age,  college, post-college, doctor, lawyer, etc).

It is the sum of my total life experiences which shape who I am rather than some anonymous computer compiling labeled-limiting-data on me and likely then categorizing me according to some label.

Likely many of you know of what I write.  As far back as early grade school kids label one another according to a perceived social status — cool, sporty, brainy, nerdy, geeky, loser . . . which continues through high school with even more labels attached including boho,  indie, wannabe, jock, goth, tree-hugger, preppy, punk, straight-edge, skater, poser, scenester, etc. added to the list.

Labeling isn’t all bad.  Take for example Bill Gates, billionaire geek extra-ordinaire.  Because of him geek is chic.  But labels are not quite as simple as they may seem.  For example, if you play sports, get good grades, skateboard, and like to wear all black, are you a nerdy jock-skater who’s into goth or a skater goth-jock who’s a bit of a nerd?

Labels can negatively stereotype or be a source of pride and comfort.  Finding a group to identify with is sometimes an important part of the process of defining who you are.  But defining anyone solely by the way she looks, what she believes, what she likes or does or, in the case of my college questionnaire,  by  demographics — can be an insult to the many dimensions that make up a person . . . that make up me!

It’s important to look beyond labels (or, in the case of the questionnaire I received, beyond little square boxes).  There’s more to every individual than a single “label” or a few ticked-off boxes on a limited-to-one-choice-response generic questionnaire.

All I can say, is thank goodness for camp!!  Camp allows me to be whoever I want to be, how many whoever’s/whatever’s possible(!!) instead of simply a one-dimensional stereotype pre-defined by marital status, education, profession, etc. and categorized by someone else!!

As for my college questionnaire — I decided not to complete and submit it after all; instead I boxed it into my computer’s trash compactor!!r

by Kamaji Blogger Kathy Jay

K

. . . Ferris fakes sick in order to skip out of school for a day.  But he doesn’t fake sick just to stay home, watch TV and sleep.  No! No!  Instead, Ferris takes advantage of this day off to enjoy the city of Chicago alongside his two best friends, Cameron and Sloane.  The three of them explore the city by way of a borrowed Ferrari — taking in a baseball game at Wrigley Field, going to the top of the Sears Tower, visiting the Art Institute of Chicago and the Chicago Board of Trade, eating at an upscale restaurant.   And, possibly the best part of the movie — Ferris partakes in the Von Steuben Day Parade where he lip syncs to “Twist and Shout” on top of one of the parade floats.

Fast forward to a couple of days ago:  I turned on the local news and had to laugh as the local weatherman was standing in downtown Chicago (let  me repeat:  in Chicago!!) on a special, rare, precious 70 degree day in March.    The weatherman opened his segment by saying, “I think the word of the day is ‘hooky’.”

Immediately I thought of Ferris Bueller and how he’d spend the day.  On a gorgeous, perfect day like that, it would be such a shame to play “hooky” and simply stay home to sleep and watch TV.

Taking a cue from Ferris Bueller, I would take advantage of my hooky time to do something that I do not get to do everyday.  Explore  local museums, go for a long walk, visit the zoo, catch up with an old friend while spoiling myself with a massage or manicure, participate in a tennis match, get-out- there!

One of my University School teachers, Mrs. Krieg, played a clip from this very movie on my first day of high school.  She shared this same message that I am now sharing with you:   If you’re going to play hooky, make it worthwhile.  Learn something new, try something you’ve never done before, meet someone new or reconnect with someone from your past, do something different and have fun!

Now, don’t get me wrong  I am not advocating skipping out of school, work, your responsibilities.  Okay wait up . . . truthfully I kinda am.  But just one day, take that one “hooky” day and make it a special one.  Everyone needs that “mental health day” to take for herself, to truly enjoy life.

It’s sage advice!  Take it from me, Mrs. Krieg, my local weatherman and Ferris Bueller:  if there is an opportunity to play hooky, do it right, make it an adventurous, exciting, fun-filled day to remember!

by Kamaji blogger Kat Martin

Throughout those early years . . . indeed throughout our 29 summers at Kamaji, we’ve heard the campers continually refer to Kamaji as “my camp.”  Not stopping to think what they meant, it was some time well into our directorship that I finally came to realize to whom Kamaji really belongs.

This realization first surfaced several years ago while having lunch with a friend in a St. Louis restaurant . . . when parents of a Kamaji camper sat down at an adjoining table.  A lively conversation ensued — during which both the mom and the dad kept referring to Kamaji as “our camp” as though it really were their camp!   Initially, I felt an inner tug-of-war with these parents who seemed to be pulling Kamaji — my camp — out from under me.  These parents  must have been mind-readers because at some point they began to apologize to me explaining that, on some level, they truly felt that Kamaji was their daughter’s camp . . . and, through her, vicariously their camp.   Brushing aside their apologies — not so much out of politeness but rather an awakening — it dawned on me that Kamaji didn’t belong to just me and Mike; it really-and-truly belongs as much to the campers and their families as it does us.   Too, I realized how great it made me feel to hear others take ownership of Kamaji — laying claim to camp as theirs.   What higher compliment could there be??!!??

With that in mind, I further realized that Mike and I often refer to Kamaji’s campers as “our kids” or “our girls.”  I was reminded of this when I recently saw the mom of two former campers/sisters and I asked “How are my girls doing?”  Without a moment’s hesitation the mom went into a dialog about where both girls are and what they are currently doing.  She seemingly never gave it a second thought that I had claimed her daughters as my own.  I guess that particular mom, when she sent  her daughters to Kamaji, was allowing us to become, in a sense, a member of her family with a claim to her daughters — however temporary that “claim” might be!

What it comes down to is that Kamaji really is one big family of sorts — with all sharing a part of each other’s lives in a place that belongs to all of us.  Camp Kamaji is not just my camp or Mike’s camp or our camp; it truly belongs to all — past, present and future —  who share in the Kamaji experience!

P.S.  Following are photos of several generations of Kamaji “owners”.

]]> http://www.kamaji.com/blog/2009/03/this-camp-is-my-camp-or-is-it/feed/ 2 http://www.kamaji.com/blog/2009/03/why-a-girls-camp-why-not/ http://www.kamaji.com/blog/2009/03/why-a-girls-camp-why-not/#comments Fri, 13 Mar 2009 12:16:33 +0000 Kamaji http://www.kamaji.com/blog/?p=469 Recently someone not connected with camp asked me “Why did you choose a girls’ camp to own?”  Truth is, Mike and I did not intentionally choose a girls’ camp over a boys’ camp.  When we started out in 1978 to look for a summer camp to own and direct, we had no preference other than knowing that we did not want a coed camp (having had a year’s experience working for one).  Luckily, after looking at and rejecting many other camps, we chanced upon Kamaji;  Kamaji just happened to be a girls’ camp — a girls’ camp without electricity in the cabins, without bathrooms in the cabins (at that time there were only outhouses and cold-water washhouses!!), without fancy ski-boats (in fact, I don’t remember there even being a ski-boat) or gizmos like waterslides, computer programs {heck even Ye Directors didn’t have a computer!}, etc.

Not a whole lot has changed since 1980:  we still don’t have electricity in the cabins, we don’t have bathrooms in the cabins (although we now have hot-water washhouses with “flushies” and showers), we don’t have a fancy ski-boat or a waterslide . . . And, although Ye Directors do use computers in the Office, we avoid them as much as possible during the summer months.   Truth is, a lot of those  things that we don’t have at camp —  simply don’t matter — at least to Kamaji campers!

What we do have are GIRLS!  After nearly thirty summers at Kamaji, I’ve come to truly appreciate the fact that our campers are girls.  (No bias against boys or anything — after all I’m mom to two sons!)  However, I’ve found that camp can “teach” girls far more  things that the so-called real world does not — lessons that go beyond horseback riding, sailing, swimming, theater, etc.  I’ve even come away with a few lessons myself — lessons I didn’t knowingly go in search of.   What I’ve learned is that a girls’ camp allows girls the freedom to simply be themselves.  They are not judged by any standard —  not clothes, not appearance, not popularity, not athleticism, not talents, not where they come from, not what they own, not what their parents do for a living.  Instead they are judged simply by their own behavior — behavior that is positive, non-judgmental, non-critical . . . They don’t have to look a certain way, dress a certain way or worry about impressing anyone.  They don’t need to compete, to outdo, to be better than . . .

Instead Kamaji’s campers (and staff too) are judged simply by how they act towards and treat others.  Kindness, consideration, thoughtfulness, sensitivity, and friendliness are adjectives that best describe what matters most at Kamaji! And while behaving in such a positive way, campers can also have fun, learn new things and develop heaps of life-long friendships.

Having learned that, it is my hope that the “real” lessons girls learn at camp are ones they can bring back to their off-season (real?) world.  Imagine the impact those kind of lessons could have on those not connected with camp!

One last bit of advice then to our Kamaji campers:  Be who you are, not what you think others think you should be!  The so-called real world would be such a better place if all its folks were really “real.”

Did you know that summer camp is an American invention – with camps becoming more and more widespread 90 to 100 years ago??  As discussed in a 2002 article written by Kay S. Hymowitz titled Notes on Camp, “Back then forward-thinking youth leaders worried about the influence of corrupt city life on the young and mourned the loss of small-town childhood where children could breathe fresh air and explore the woods and lakes.  And they questioned what city kids would do during the two-or-three-month summer school vacation that was designed to allow non-city kids to help families harvest crops and herd cows?”

Fast forward 100 years . . . and you’d be forgiven for wondering how this tradition of vigorous summer living can go over in 2009 where kids are wired, plugged-in, connected . . . where playtime has moved indoors and where children are steadily becoming a generation of “muscular thumbs.”

A January 2006 Miami Herald newspaper article reads:

“The street is empty. Even on a balmy winter weekend, exquisite in the way only South Florida days can be at this time of year, the children are nowhere to be seen.  There are no bikes, no scooters, no skates, no balls and gloves and pads . . .

“Tree climbing? Who does that anymore? Hide-and- seek? I can’t remember the last time I saw children play what was an all-time favorite game for me when all the cousins got together. Hopscotch, jump rope and stickball — I suppose these have gone the way of eight-tracks and black-and-white TV shows.

“U.S. factory sales of consumer electronics rose to$125.9 billion. . . and, while this figure includes much more than stuff for children,     it remains a good indication of where we’re headed.  Hours in front of the screen mean less time     in social interaction. Pushing buttons on a control translates into fewer push-ups and exercises.

“Toys reflect the culture, and we are a juiced-up society that can’t unplug itself. We’ve forgotten how  to be quiet. We don’t know what it’s like to be bored. We hate to be away from the constant stimulus that promises to keep us connected 24-7.”

While I find myself caught somewhere between completely buying into what the reporter wrote and vehemently disagreeing, I wonder to myself “Has the person who authored the Miami Herald piece ever been to summer camp?”  More specifically, has this person ever been to a Kamaji-like camp??  Where campers have no air-conditioning, no cable TV with 200+ channels, no VCRs, no DVDs, no I-Pods,  no arcade games, no computer access, no on-line chats, no instant messaging, no blogs, no cell phones, no e-mails, no  DISCMAN, no MTV, no channel surfing, no mini-disc players, no GameBoys, no PCPs.  Too, there are no shopping sprees at malls, no meals-made-your-way,  no electricity in the cabins, (heck there are no bathrooms in the cabins!!), no exhausted multi-tasked kids, no hefty list of extra-curricular-activities, no-tech experiences, no over-scheduled lives, no cyberspace, no celebrity-and-designer-crazed culture, no fumes, no boys!!

What you will find instead are . . .

. . . campers canoeing, campers roasting marshmallows, campers tirelessly singing songs, campers playing Capture the Flag, campers captivated by story-telling counselors, campers swimming and sailing in the waters of a crystal clear lake, campers playing tennis and horseback riding, campers surrounded and nourished by the beauty and immensity of nature . . .

. . . and steamy bowls of oatmeal, stars glittering above the lake, camp-like pleasures including brain-teasers and head-to-head intimate conversations, morning flag,  bunk beds, chipmunks, campfires, insect bites, shared experiences and shared memories, a climbing wall, great friends, cabin inspections . . .

. . . campers connecting with people in a way they never have before, where there is a calmness to life, a lack of urgency and worry, where if the day’s tennis instruction or swimming lesson does not get done the sun will still rise in the morning and no one will be any less for it, where everyone knows your name . . .

. . . where Native American words – Ishkaday, Waubun, Mundahmin, Metig, Geshig, Nanahtahga –  have special meaning, where daily rituals are steeped in decades of nostalgic  tradition, where mistakes are ok and perfection is rare . . .

. . . where it is ok to make friends and share friends, where a camper can discover herself, where responsibility, independence, mutual respect, friendship, leadership and cheerfulness are reinforced . . .

. . . where an atmosphere of trust that nurtures fond memories and deep, often lifelong, friendships and a lifetime of experiences await all, where campers feel as if they’re in a place that doesn’t change . . .  where time and technology don’t reach . . .

. . .and where that’s all okay!!

Is it a surprise, then, that it is still possible to take kids who are gadget-mesmerized, techno-driven and plugged-in. . . and entice them with the magic of camp?  It shouldn’t be.  Kids can be as fine as a culture asks them to be.

Question:  How many Kamaji girls does it take to screw in a light bulb?

Answer:     All of them.  One to put in the bulb and the rest to sing about it!”

After laughing to myself, I thought what a great testimony to Camp Kamaji and its campers and their heartfelt, spontaneous, light-hearted, exuberant singing that goes on at camp everyday!!  I can think of hundreds of times campers’ parents and other visitors (including Chippewa folks when at Kamaji for regattas) nonchalantly sitting in the dining hall chatting away when all-of-a-sudden they are caught totally unawares by the start of a song that, before you know it, becomes infectious and has all of Camp Kamaji on its feet singing and clapping and foot-stomping . . . The sort of disbelief — even “shock” — that settles over the faces of those parents and visitors sitting around me in the dining hall soon gives way to smiles, laughter, clapping, picture snapping, video taking and — yes even — singing as these folks get caught up in the festive atmosphere that so dominates the dining hall once dishes are cleared away and dining tables washed down.

The girls of Kamaji need no reason to sing —  they just do!!   There are cabin songs, tribe songs, state songs, staff songs, camp songs, loud songs, slow songs, raucous songs, reverent songs to former Kamaji Directors (and yes, even some irreverent songs as in “Mike’s got a head like a ping-pong ball☺!!), birthdays songs, visitor songs, songs with cheers, songs without words . . . and, as in the case of “Twenty Years Gone By”, special songs that make Ye Directors cry.

Where else in this whole world can kids —  and grown-ups for that matter  sing joyously, exuberantly, uninhibitedly, without fear of embarrassment??  What fun!! What joy!!!

As for the light-bulb joke: There’s a rare time a Kamaji girl will screw in a light bulb — as there’s no electricity in the cabins.  However, the girls of Kamaji will find cause to sing in celebration of every achievement, every success, every triumph — however small it might be or trivial it might seem.

So to the boys of Chippewa, we reply “YESIREE!! ♪ lalalalalala ♪”

WRONG!  Ye Directors know for a fact there are many  heroines at Kamaji.  They are not written up in the news-papers; they are not given ticker-tape parades; they don’t get paid whopping salaries; they might not be glamorous; they’re likely not full-grown yet; heck they probably don’t even realize they are heroines.  They might not recognize that what they do or say does impact another Kamajian’s life.  They certainly may not realize how many lives they actually touch . . . what a difference they make . . . how important they are . . . what a role model, an idol, a star they’re perceived to be . . . that they are truly heroines in our self-contained summer world called Kamaji.

This heroine may come in the form of a Kamaji counselor –  maybe a swim instructor who helped a camper overcome her fear of the lake; perhaps a riding instructor who gently encouraged a camper to get back on a horse after a fall; could be a drama instructor who convinced a camper  she had what it takes to get up on stage and sing for the first time; or the cabin counselor who offered advice on how to resolve a problem with a cabin mate.  Maybe the heroine is a tribe leader who assured a member that she had not let her tribe down on Tribe Day or who patiently taught a new camper all the words to all the tribe  songs.    Maybe the heroine is a Kami Sister who forgoes the companionship of her camp friends on the bus trip to camp just so she can sit with her new Kami Sister and make her feel welcomed and special.  The heroine could even be  another camper who takes the time to go out of her way to make a not-so-sure-of-herself camper feel included in the cabin group.

Yes –  heroines come in all shapes and sizes, all ages, all walks of  life.  A Kamaji heroine will probably never be featured in a tabloid, she won’t make the cover of Vogue magazine, she won’t go down in history . . . but she will be no less important and, in all likelihood, she will be far more loved, more emulated and long remembered after the so-called “real life heroes” of today are forgotten.

Admittedly flattered by the comments,  I could not agree more about the euphoria of Kamaji’s campers.  Happy campers to the max!!

Oh-oh – not so fast!!  Google-searching the definition of happy camper, I learn that happy camper, while on the one hand implies satisfaction and contentment, on the other it is often used in a negative contradictory way.

No one is really clear as to  where happy camper, a phrase in use since 1983, originated.   It is thought that the expression came from a line delivered by Chevy Chase in the movie Vacation and was made more popular after former Vice President Dan Quayle (foolishly) used it in an address during a visit to American Samoa where he told his audience “You all look like happy campers to me. Happy campers you are, happy campers you have been, and, as far as I am concerned, happy campers you will always be.”

Regardless of where it originated, the expression happy camper is oftentimes used  in a way that contradicts the happy Kamaji campers seen on camp’s video!!

HAPPY CAMPER (noun): (1) a person who is pleased with the situation in which s/he finds him/herself.  Often used in the negative; as, the passengers left behind on the island were not a bunch of happy campers. www.thefreedictionary.com; (2) A person who is very pleased or content.  Example: When he saw the report card, he was not a happy camper.  Usually used with a negative www.dictionary.com (3) a person who is pleased or happy, — usually used in negative contexts.  It is not a group of happy campers that gets off the bus (Randon House Historical Dictionary of American Slang);  (4) to be satisfied, also “not a happy camper” is said to someone who looks unhappy. www.coolslang.com; and,  (5) a person who is very pleased (usually used with a negative): “He was not a happy camper after he lost his license”. www.dictionary.babylon.com.

(I guess then were I to apply the definition correctly from its meaning found in several dictionaries, I could safely say “Dan Quayle’s was anything but a “happy camper” given the ridicule targeted at him following that “wish-I-could-take-that-back” happy camper quote.)

In a word-or-two, happy camper, then, does not necessarily suggest what one would think.  If you get my meaning (pun intended).

Kamaji’s  campers,  who are anything but not happy campers are arguably so much more than simply “content” or “satisfied”  campers as well.

So what would be an appropriate expression describing those Kamaji campers who, in the Kamaji video, are bubbling over with  laughter, singing at the top of their lungs, playing happily with camp friends, smiling hugely, joyously living camp life large??? Given that happy camper with its negative connotation no longer seems fitting, I coin the expression Kamaji Camper.