Camp Parents,
Wes and I have had one thought since mid-March. Make camp happen. Do whatever it takes to pull it off safely. For our campers. For our staff. For us. As our own children experienced loss after loss, our determination only increased. Each camp family we heard from stiffened our resolve. As we waited expectantly for guidelines to be released from the state of Maine, we never relented.
It has been a long season of waiting, planning, and I’ll be completely honest, it has not been without worry at times. Will it work? Will families take seriously what we ask of them before arrival? Will our staff have the discipline to sustain separation on their nights’ off at the beginning of camp. Will campers wash their hands and use their masks? Etc. Etc. But, the plan worked. They, and you, have been able to do all of it. Not a single camper or staff member has screened positive in their daily camp screenings. We have had a completely healthy, symptom free camp during these first ten days. Campers have been incredibly compliant, wearing masks indoors, respecting the space around cabins not their own, social distancing, etc. Many would tell me every day that they could not wait to hug other friends at camp. Even our youngest eight and nine year old campers have been incredible. Our staff have tirelessly plated food for campers three times a day, supervised hand-washing countless times each day, cleaned cabin bathrooms over and over. Finally yesterday we got the good news that our entire camp population is COVID clear. We announced it before dinner last night. We all threw our masks in the air as if we had graduated. There were hugs and tears. We can begin to become one, unified camp.
The world around us does not look the same as it did five months ago, and yet the needs of our kids, and by the way, human beings in general, have not changed at all. We need community. We need connection and friendship. We need hugs and physical touch. Our children need independence, and opportunities outside of our (parents’) watchful eyes. That’s how they grow. Adults can survive six months or a year of this kind of a deprived life better than a child. Six months of lost development in the life of someone 8-16 years old is significant.
So, we made it. Camp happened. It’s happening. It is nothing short of a miracle. Sure, there was a lot of hard work involved in getting to this point, but also a bit of Providence for the things we could not control. Your kids are at camp, living in community and living the way we should all be living. It is only for a moment, but it is still absolutely beautiful. So needed. Every summer there are things I get to watch unfold at camp that give me great joy. This year, it’s easy. Your kids, living in relationship with each other. Allagash went star gazing a few nights ago. They laid out on the basketball court, hoping for a glimpse of NEOWISE. We could hear their laughter from our porch. At the dip a few nights ago, Saco insisted that they had to jump off the dock as an entire cabin. They were one unit they said, their counselor Max looming over the middle of the group, daring me to try and say no. I did not. They ran off the end of the dock howling. They are a tight group. Bigelow, our youngest girls’ cabin, on the second day of camp, planned a surprise birthday party for their counselor. Watching them run around planning, delegating, and decorating was remarkable. The way in which they worked together to make it happen was impressive. There is a gaggle of eight and nine year old boys who show up each morning before reveille to do the morning “run”. Mostly, they enjoy walking and talking with each other. They get lost in conversation, walking to the gate and back, occasionally stopping to pick a raspberry or two. If you could be a fly on the wall up here…
I am looking forward to the next ten days. For every late night cabin conversation, spontaneous prank, and hammock town free time. For Color Wars, Totem runs, and wilderness off camp trips. For every relational moment that will help anchor us all when we have to leave. For every hug, and tear, and giggle, and guffaw. For the next ten days we get to live unlike most anyone else in America right now. How lucky we are. Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, for believing in camp this summer.
Warmly,
Becca BeVier