Chapter 9
There was a buzz of anticipation in the dining hall.
The campers were due to arrive in less than an hour and everyone was excited.
Well, almost everyone. I couldn’t wait to see Zelda and Hazel, but I wasn’t convinced I was prepared to oversee forty-eight eight-year-olds.
My stomach was in knots. I could barely swallow any food.
Jack spoke into the microphone, Marilyn at his side. “Marilyn and I want to thank you for your hard work this week preparing for the arrival of the campers. The buses left on time and should be arriving within the next thirty minutes.”
The room erupted in cheers and applause. My mouth went dry, and my stomach somersaulted. I turned toward Abby, who looked panicked. I now knew what I must look like.
“Everyone needs to be wearing their Woodlands collared shirt, green shorts, sneakers, and your nametag. Absolutely no flip-flops. If you don’t know where you’re supposed to be for arrival, please see either Bethany or Bob. This summer is going to be the best summer ever!”
The room exploded once more.
Abby and I instinctively grabbed each other’s hands. Both sets of fingers were ice cold.
“We can do this,” I said, squeezing Abby’s hand for reassurance.
“We have no other choice.” Abby squeezed back.
“If you’re finished with your breakfast, let’s walk the bunks one last time,” Bethany said as we swallowed our last sips of coffee.
I whispered in Abby’s ear, “It’s showtime.”
The DLs followed Bethany and Marilyn to the brightly colored banners hanging over the porch railings of each cabin.
“Have we always had banners?” Marilyn’s head was cocked to one side, her index finger twisting her hair.
“It was Maggie’s idea,” Abby said.
“I don’t think she asked for my approval,” Marilyn said.
Bethany saved the moment. “I think they look great, and I’m sure the girls will love seeing their names on the banners.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Okay, let’s start with the Cubs,” Marilyn said.
The counselors had done an impressive job decorating.
A pink, yellow, green, or blue construction paper flower with a girl’s name in the center hung over each bunk.
The beds were made with the colorful linens and stuffed animals the parents had sent ahead.
With a lot of work, the dreary cabins had been transformed into warm, cozy summer homes for the campers.
When my walk-through was done and had thankfully passed muster, I headed to the office to see if there were any last-minute phone calls from parents. Jack was walking out of the office, and our eyes met.
“Hey, Lori, I see you have your radio with you. Good girl,” Jack said.
Good girl? What would he say if I called him a good boy?
“Yes, you’ve taught me to carry it with me wherever I go. But just so we understand each other.” I probably should have shut up right then. “I will not be taking it with me in the shower.”
I could tell he wasn’t sure if I was serious or not.
“No one expects you to take the radio with you in the shower.”
“That’s a relief.”
“You’re funny. I’ll have to remember that. Did you have your walk-through? I hope you’re ready for the campers’ arrival,” Jack said.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Frisbees were being thrown, footballs tossed, and Hula-Hoops whirled around limber bodies as I approached the soccer field.
The nervous energy translated into laughing, hugging, and playing ball.
And the kids weren’t even here yet. The feeling of friendship and community was palpable.
The past week had not only taught us what we needed to know about working with children—we had also become a team.
When the first buses arrived, the counselors went berserk, jumping, waving, and running alongside, trying to make out the campers’ faces through the tinted windows. I smiled as the bus door opened and Di, who was volunteered to chaperone, climbed down the stairs.
“I have a busload of excited campers here from New York City!”
Girls started bounding out the door. Zelda and Hazel appeared in the doorway with their Woodlands knapsacks slung over their shoulders.
They had spent the past week with Ronnie’s parents.
Their grandmother had probably been the one who pulled their hair into tight ponytails and put them on the bus.
They wore the camp uniforms that I had painstakingly sewn their name tags into.
They looked a little stunned, but otherwise they seemed to have managed fine being away from me.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until I saw them.
Between my busy schedule, no cell service, and their running around with their grandparents, we only got to speak twice. I ran to them, needing a hug.
Hazel was visibly happy to see me and jumped into my outstretched arms. Zelda smiled at first but then became reserved—probably thinking, I can’t believe my mother is actually here. Whatever was going through her mind, I didn’t care. I squished her into me, telling her that I loved her.
Bethany broke up our reunion and handed Zelda and Hazel over to their respective counselors.
When they were out of earshot, Bethany told me, “Remember, at camp you’re not their mother. You’re Lori, the DL for the Cubs.”
I couldn’t argue with her. It had been made clear that my children were not supposed to receive extra attention from me because it would be unfair to the other campers.
“I know, but I couldn’t help myself from getting a quick cuddle.”
I suspected Abby would do the same with her kids.
After all the campers arrived, I walked under the Camp Woodlands sign and onto the path that led to the bunks.
I took a deep breath before I walked up the six steps to the porch of the first cabin.
I was exhilarated and exhausted; I had a sneaking suspicion that would be my state of consciousness for the next eight weeks.
I was surprised how difficult it was to catch my breath when I reached the top of the steep wooden stairs.
I didn’t think I was in such bad shape until it dawned on me—I better watch it with the cigarettes.
I knocked on the door and was relieved to see smiling faces as I entered. There were girls sitting on their beds holding stuffed animals, girls going through their closets, girls hanging around the counselors. There were so many of them.
As soon as they understood that I was their camp mom, they all needed a piece of me and I was bombarded with questions.
After a full week of orientation, I still didn’t have all the answers.
I fudged my way through each cabin with a new catchphrase: “I can’t wait until we learn about that together. ”
After tucking the campers in bed that night, I went to Mindy’s room, our after-hours hangout.
Drink in hand, Bethany congratulated me and Abby on our first ever tuck-in, saying, “Let’s see how well you do when homesickness kicks in.
Probably not tomorrow but by the third night, that’s when the reality of being away from their parents sets in. ”
As I sipped my wine, a sense of relief washed over me—my first day with campers was over. I felt good but depleted. I left early and was tying my shoelaces when Bob and Ted walked up the stairs.
“Leaving already?” Ted asked.
“What can I say, I’m a lightweight.”
“I hope your first day went well,” he said.
I smiled. “It did, thanks for asking.”
“Quick, close the door, no bugs,” Mindy yelled when Bob opened it.
“You coming?” Bob asked Ted.
“In a sec.” Ted turned to me and lowered his voice. “Let’s meet up for a smoke tomorrow night. I’d like to hear how you’re getting on.”
I hesitated, thinking about being short of breath earlier, but said, “Tomorrow night it is.”
Lying in bed I felt pleased with myself.
My plan had come to fruition. I was with my daughters at camp.
This could be a life-changing summer, the three of us making memories together.
I had a passing thought about how Ronnie must have felt when they left for camp, but it faded as I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke feeling refreshed. It was the first time in months that I’d slept well.
Abby had joined me for my morning walk before meeting up with Maggie and Roger for dirty-water coffee. Even though working at camp was part of the goal to overhaul my life, I hadn’t figured on having to give up hazelnut coffee each morning.
“Are you guys ready for your first full day of activities?” Maggie asked.
“I can’t believe we have to wake up the counselors as well as the campers. Our job should be to pop our heads in to say good morning,” I said.
Maggie shrugged. “Children taking care of children.”
Abby looked at her watch. “We better get a move on. If we’re counting counselors, we each have sixty children to get ready for breakfast.”
As we passed through the gates of Girls Camp I asked, “What do you think we’ll find when we open the doors?”
“With any luck, everyone will have slept through the night and we’ll actually have to wake them.” We hesitated before entering the cabins. “Here goes nothing,” Abby said.
I tapped lightly on the wood frame of the first Cubs cabin. The screen door screeched as I opened it. The room was quiet and dark with pinpoints of sun poking through the worn blinds. I sidestepped between bunks to pull up the shades, causing sleepy bodies to toss.
Each cabin was equipped with a radio tuned to the camp station. I turned the volume up just as Roger played “Reveille.” That was met with grunts and whines.
“Good morning my little Cubs, rise and shine,” I loudly sang out from the middle of the room.
I walked by each bed, pushing down on the mattress and addressing each girl by name and saying, “Wake up, sleepyhead,” or “Today’s the first day of camp.” Slowly the cabin came to life. “Wear a hoodie to breakfast,” I called out. “It’s chilly this morning.”
One camper, Leah, was whimpering. I didn’t ask her how she was doing. I felt unprepared to deal with a crier at 7:30 a.m.
When I opened the door of the fourth cabin, most everyone was awake. I noticed that Jasmine, one of the counselors, was still in bed on a top bunk, her back to the center of the room. As I got closer, I heard snoring. I rubbed her arm and said, “Jasmine, it’s time to get up.”
She grumbled, shaking me off. I tried again and she inched closer to the wall. I looked at the other counselors, but they shrugged and continued helping the girls get ready. I wasn’t sure what to do.
I whispered, “Jasmine, please get up. Don’t make me do anything drastic.”
She turned over, one eye opened and glared at me as she pulled the covers more tightly around herself. Was that a dare? I waited as the cabin emptied, then I opened my water bottle and dripped cold water on her head. She sprang up screaming, “What the fuck?!”
“As I said, it’s time to get up.” I looked at my watch. “See you in the dining hall in three minutes and watch your language.”
I walked out, making sure the door slammed behind me.
At breakfast Bethany asked how our first morning went. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Jasmine, wet hair framing her sulking face as she shoveled cereal into her mouth.
“I was surprised that only one of my counselors, Amber, was awake and dressed, and at the other extreme, I couldn’t get one counselor out of bed,” I said.
“Yeah, there’s usually one or two that give us a hard time.”
I turned to see how my own kids were doing. Zelda was stabbing at a waffle and Hazel had a spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth. They looked as though they’d made it through the night intact.
“Ready for Flagpole?” Bethany asked.
The silver flagpole stood tall and sturdy against the clear blue sky; powdered white lines fanned out down the slope of the hill from its base. The wet grass glistened, and the stripes shimmered under the rays of the morning sun.
Bethany arrived carrying the American flag on the clipboard held against her chest. The campers were in formation, lined up by division, one counselor at the front, the rear, and the middle. The DLs flanked Bethany, Mindy, and Marilyn at the top of the hill.
I stared into the smiling faces of two hundred and fifty mostly ponytailed girls, all wearing green.
“Good morning, Woodlands!” Bethany shouted.
They replied loudly and in unison, “Good morning, Bethany.”
Bethany rattled off the daily announcements. “The Swans have their first social tonight with the boys at canteen.”
Cheers came from the right flank.
“The Rabbits have canteen after lunch.”
Squeals from the middle of the gathering.
“All campers in all divisions need to take their swim tests today.”
A collective groan echoed down the hill.
“Linda Kunesh from the Otters, cabin three, has a birthday. Linda, please come up to raise the flag.”
As she walked up the hill, her bunkmates sang, “Look at all the fun she’s havin’ / That’s because she’s in our cabin / Yay, Linda.”
“How does everyone already know these songs?” I asked Bethany.
“Camp culture. Passed down by the older campers.”
Bethany put a birthday tiara on Linda’s head. She was all smiles as she pulled the cord, watching the flag catch the wind.
Most of the staff were not from the United States, and I wondered if they found this ritual odd. After the pledge was said and the formation broken, the girls headed to their bunks to start chores.
The first day of what would be the morning routine was set into motion. Aside from having to use a little water incentive on a counselor, everything was going well.
The activity after Flagpole was possibly the most important one of the day—cleaning the bunks.
During orientation, Maggie made a prototype job wheel for the counselors to copy and decorate, listing the chores that each camper would do that day.
It was hung at the front of the cabin and one girl was assigned a different task each day: broom, dustpan, clotheslines, porch, trash, washroom.
The other girls got the day off. Then the DLs inspected the cabins, and one bunk each week would get the privilege of raising and lowering the flag together because they had the cleanest bunk.
Campers had to make their beds every day. As I watched the Cubs scurrying about, I smiled, thinking about how Zelda and Hazel were doing the same thing in their cabins. I would make sure that chores continued when we were home, and I’d add dishes and keeping their bathroom tidy. No day off.