As in YMCA. Not the song by the sexually ambivalent Village People. I mean as in summer camp.
You say summer camp to many people and they have terrifying memories of homesick weeks away from mom and dad when they were kids. Or terrifying memories of being bullied or feeling inadequate at some of the activities they had to do.
Not all summer camps were obviously YMCA oriented. Some were actually like they were portrayed in movies such as
Meatballs. Torturous affairs leaving kids scarred for life or led down the path of serial killer. I knew kids who had been to some of "those" summer camps and I would like to think I saved them by getting them to come to my Y camp. My friends who would get to come and spend a couple weeks with me had the best times each summer.
Yes I said my Y camp.
Camp Tippecanoe. Great name for a camp and it was also the name of the one-light town closest to the camp. I say my Y camp because for 8 youthful formative years, it was my camp for the entire summer. How so you say? Simple.
My dad was the camp director. From the time I was 4 years old until I was 13, every year when school let out in June we packed the family station wagon and headed for camp. Not to return until Labor Day. While other kids had to ride their bikes around the same tired neighborhood all summer (maybe a week or two for a family vacation) I got to experience the outdoors and be on what amounted to a 3 month vacation that my dad was in charge of. It was the greatest time of my life!
If you click on the link above on
Camp Tippecanoe (or here) and scroll down to the last paragraph where it mentions the camp director...that's my dad. In 1960 (even though I was only 4) I remember going with my dad to check out this new place he was going to be working at. It seemed to take forever to get there but in fact it was only about an hour and a half. The only thing I really remember at that age once we got there was how muddy it was every where...roads, parking areas, cleared land, everything. I of course found out later that the place was just being built and the combination of half completed construction and lots of rain recently turned into a quagmire. But it was so cool...like the pioneer days.
At a young age I learned a lot of skills and got to go back every summer to get better. Being the director's son was like a free pass to every activity. I learned archery, 22-rifle, horseback riding, swimming, canoeing, arts and crafts, hiking, orienteering, survival skills, and a lot more. While other kids had to pay for their one or two week stay...I got three months of fun and exercise. And
snipe hunts. Great fun.
When I was there the camping seasons were divided for all boys and all girls. There was band camp in the early part of August where high school marching bands would come for 2 or 3 weeks before school started to hone their skills. There were two ranch camps further out from the main camp area where each rancher was given their own horse for their 2-week stay. And they were responsible for the care and feeding during the entire stay. At the end of each two week cycle there would be a gathering of all campers on the softball field to watch the two ranches let their riders show off their feats of riding skill learned during their stay.
There was international camp where foreign campers (like exchange students) would come and stay for two weeks. What a great cultural experience for me and my siblings. There were 2 one-week sessions of handicap camp. Buses of handicap campers came to enjoy all the things that normal campers enjoyed. Kids in wheelchairs, mentally handicapped, physically disabled and everything in between had an experience of a lifetime getting to ride horses, play softball, have sing-alongs in front of the bonfire, and any activity they were physically capable of doing. Many of these things could never happen today with all the legal red tape. Could you imagine a wheelchair bound camper being lifted into a row boat and being allowed to be rowed out into the lake?? Never happen now. Those kids were the happiest they probably had ever been. And ya know what I enjoyed them being around and always helped out and made friends even if just for a short time.
My dad was a tireless director. He had 1100 acres under his command. Sometimes that included prowlers to deal with that would come in off the lake. I never felt anything but safe when I was at camp. He gave me my first paying job when I was old enough - dishwasher in the lodge kitchen. You learn the meaning of work and keeping pace when you have to help prepare, serve, and clean up after 200 campers and staff 3 times a day. But I made $200 a month as a 12 year old and that was a million dollars to me. The stories I could tell seem endless.
In 1969 my dad was promoted to the director of a brand new YMCA office not far from where we lived. Camp life was over for me. And not long after taking that new position...life was over for my father. He died suddenly at the age of 44. I was the one that noticed something wasn't right that Father's Day Sunday in June of 1970. Then everybody rushed in as I called out to the back yard full of family, barbecuing. Everything was a blur after that, I don't even remember hearing the ambulance come. I just know a few hours later my mom was telling us four kids that dad was gone.
My younger sister did return to camp many times as a counselor and staff member. I don't know that I have been back since my dad died. There did have a memorial ceremony there...I know there is a huge picture of him hanging above the fireplace in the main lodge. The place where he devoted his life and energy to helping the adults of tomorrow be better people.
The YMCA made me who I am today. I am thankful my dad was who he was and did what he did.
Next...Z end.
