Nanaisms

At camp on July 4th
"Nana now, we are at camp, so you have to behave yourself."

"Oh! Don't worry. I won't rape any little boys, here."

"Wow, I feel so much safer, now. Thanks."


At dinner on July 28, 2007.

"Sex is a wonderful thing in marriage. When it's her first time and his, provided he's telling the truth..."

This morning.

"I don't want another husband, I liked the one I had and a new one would be too hard to fix the way I'd want him."

Miss You

It is Thursday and I am back to being a responsible adult in education. But as I look around and work on classrooms and lesson plans, I miss them

I miss the "Sandy, can we talk?" I miss the knocks on the door, the sound of shuffling feet. I miss the requests for a shoulder rub and most of all I miss the banter.

I miss Randy, Sunshine, Danny, Batch, Mark, Diamond, Charles, Matt B, Kastner, Drew, Jason, all the Josh's, Amanda, Sam, Papesh, and Mike.

It's funny how much I miss them. The rules are very clear too, we don't call, write or e-mail unless it is about camp and specific to camp... That's months away...

The power some of these boys/men have to make me feel important, connected and whole is amazing. The ways they can confuse and wound me is equally impressive. I haven't decided for sure what makes it the experience it is. It is so difficult to explain.

Whatever, this evening, as I sit in my living room, hacking up a lung from Bronchitis... thanks for that by the way, and you know who you are... getting ready for bed and planning my day tomorrow, I miss them....

If you are reading, I miss you, all, a lot. I miss feeling like I really matter. Sometimes I only feel like that when I'm with you...

Closure

So camp is over.

There were some conversations I wish I had scraped up the courage to have. There are some that I am proud of myself for not having.

I am sure in the clarity of hindsight there will be things I regret, but overall I think I handled this right.

For the most part, and it may be cowardly, I left it alone. There was no point to digging, even the sore opened in my heart seems to be healing over, so I am leaving it, as is.

I am even confidant in my ability to do this again, next year, though as always it will be different, further up the continuum. And I reserve the right to say no if I want to or need to.

We'll see.

I have learned this, this summer, I think.

I am of value and I matter. This camp may actually need me (at least right now) as much as I need it. There are lives here that I am touching and helping grow. There is more growing that I have yet to do. My heart may not be as dead and shriveled as I sometimes imagine that it is. There are worse things than being lonely. We can control our hearts if we want to, and that is not a bad thing. You can't force your heart to feel something, though, and that is OK too.

Oh, and boundaries are boundaries, and they are a good thing, and I have them and am aware of them and that is a good thing. Even if other people don't have them or use them or understand them, my awareness can be enough for both of us and I can at least protect myself, if not them.

But age, is just a number. Past 18 and high school, it has little to do with anything. Maturity, wisdom and experience are paramount. Time is necessary for those things, though, and some people really are slower than others. It can make you older, but it often makes you younger. If you are lucky it does both.

Last of all.

There is nothing finer in life, than the smile on the face of someone you helped.

My Secret

In the past five summers, I've seen a lot of the boys at camp asleep.

I love this group, mostly because they are so "in between" what they were and what they will be. Watching the shift is a unequaled joy in my life.

When they sleep, I see what they were. They all look like sweet little boys, flushed with sleep and often smiling.

Then when they are waking up, often in the half light, I see a glimpse of what they will become. The determination, honor and courage of men.

It makes it all worth it.

Sticks and Stones

I had a friend who used to say you could call him stupid, but never a fool. Had another who used to say you could call her witch, but never the other word that sound similar.

Apparently I've got a couple of words I don't accept either.

But they are just words, right? Why does it matter so much?

I honestly don't know.

But apparently, they do.

Emergency Rooms

All I'm saying is that if I have to spend another afternoon/evening in an emergency room this week I may go a little insane. Two in two days is my limit!

Quickie: Finger Carving Merit Badge

It is always my prerogative and honor to give out the Finger Carving Merit Badge at Friday Night Campfire each week. I look at all the injuries over the week and I look to see if any (and there can be more than one) were particularly bad, funny or unique. Sometimes it is not a finger and there is no knife, so I come up with a different name.

One child got, "It's just a flesh wound" because we could not get this rather shallow head laceration to quit spurting blood like a fountain. Seriously (and no it wasn't arterial, he just had high blood pressure or something.)

One child got, "The Stoic Award!" That kid was funny. He came in because his arm kinda hurt, but on a scale of 1 to 10 it was only a 1. Eventually I got him to go up to 2. We took him in anyway. It was broken in three places. What happened in this kid's life that this was only a 2?

This week's camper finger carving merit badge went to a kid who did not get stitches. That's because there was nothing to sew anything to. Just a big long slice down his pointer finger. It took forever to get that thing to stop!

There were two staff Finger Carvers, however. One was (and I am not making this up!) sitting on the toilet, he got bored and decided to carve on his walking stick and sliced open his finger. He waited until he finished, cleaned up and then got his pants up before he called me. I was flattered for the courtesy.

The other one is for the third (!) handi-craft staff member who has attempted to take a finger off. What is with these people! They are the ones who teach wood-carving. One was the director and the other was his assistant.

I really aught to become a PA so I can stitch them up myself. I could charge and I think I could turn a profit!

Last week of camp. Anything could happen!

Relieved, Surprised, Confused, Peaceful

There is peace today. I'm not sure why. Technically I didn't do anything and frankly best I can tell neither did anyone else, really, per say, but...

Today I am peaceful.

Maybe it was letting go, maybe it was accepting, facing and moving on. Maybe it was simply time.

There was no reckoning, though I imagine that may still happen eventually, possibly, sometime.

It's not closing the book, but I think I have guessed the ending and I am OK with it. Actually I am excited to read the future volumes secure in the roles of the characters.

Oh, and I talked to my Dad and brother about it. That always makes things better.

In discussing it with them, for all that they allowed me to be validated, I could see the juvenile aspects to the situation. (Making my therapist again, right!) Further, I also saw that the bigger problem here is not really mine. Most importantly, I saw how much I was influenced by the opinions and observations of some other, albeit well meaning, individuals.

Last night one of the others started in on me again and I saw how he actually stirs up drama where there is less than more. It is well meaning on his part, he's trying to help, but... Not to say that there wasn't/isn't an issue, but it really, as I said, isn't so much mine.

Also, speaking of juvenile.

There was an issue at camp last week.

A director was fired. While originally I felt they were salvageable (they were making some mistakes, but I thought we could work with them) turns out I was wrong. They were doing something that I find completely unacceptable under any circumstance. Unfortunately they were fired after I had already contracted the towels (embroidered with name and year) that I give to senior staff each year. Now I had a problem.

I couldn't give them the towel. But I couldn't use it or give it to anyone else. It had their name on it for goodness sake! So when others were looking for a towel to use to create torches for lighting the campfire I offered it up. Unfortunately the use of that towel as a torch (and the replacement co-directors being the ones to wield them... which was not my idea) got back to said fired director.

He called me at camp. He asked me if it was true what happened. I said yes. He asked me what my part in it was. I said I gave the towel when one was requested. Then he didn't say a whole lot else. I'm not sure what he wanted me to say. I imagine he was mad and/or hurt. However, he did not buy the towel, it was never his property and well, it just is what it is.

I'm sorry he was hurt, but I'm not sure why he thought calling me was a good idea or what he wanted to know. There was nothing I could tell him that was going to help and nothing I could do at that point.

My father and I talked about that too.

So today I am peaceful and it is a good thing. No mysteries solved exactly, nothing resolved completely, but today, for whatever break it is, is peaceful.

The Boys of Summer 2007

There is a button, that some people in Scout wear, that says, "I'm here for the boys." I don't wear this button for all that it is rather my truth because, well, people would misunderstand.

But I am here for the boys. Let me tell you about some of them. (Some are ones you have heard about before, and some are new.)

Batch. Batch is 22 and studying to be a geologist. Very bright boy. Also one of the singularly most emotionally aware young men I have met in some time. He sees people, though granted he has to be paying attention, and he knows them. He is not afraid of his feelings or any one else's. He might have been one of my saving graces this summer.

Dr. Nichols. Not really a doctor, he's only 17, but we call him that. Such an earnest young man and a very hard worker. There is something in his speech and demeanor that reminds me of the dentist elf on Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer, but in a good way. He's just a big teddy bear sort too.

Ethan. Also a big bear. Big soft deep voice. He made me a canoe on the first week of camp. Just a little one, mind you, but it was very sweet. He has soft eyes and a kind smile and he actually wrestled the Chaplin to the ground when I jokingly suggested it. Then I had to apologize to the Chaplin (a good friend of mine... so it was OK!)

Sunshine. Now here is a young man worth watching. Starting his senior year in HS, already accepted to the Citadel, but hoping to go to the Coast Guard Academy, Sunshine is probably one of the camp's best imports. He's from Florida. Maybe the soft spot I have from him is the military background (he's a brat like me) or the clean cut, respectful way he conducts himself all the time. The way he demures about his girlfriend is pretty sweet... And when several annoying staff offered to take him to a strip club for his 18th birthday he said "no!" Last year Sunshine got very sick and spent several days up here in Medlodge with me. Poor boy was quite ill. But always polite and said please every time. Also a terrific teacher.

Danny. I've known Danny since his first year at camp as a CIT (counselor in training) and am so proud to now watch him direct his own department. He was grown at 15, but he's even more a real example of maturity now at 18. I "let" him take me "out" one night, on my night off. One of the nicer dates I think I've had in some time. Makes me wish I was 18... and shorter. Danny starts college this year and I wish him all the best. There is a very special girl out there for him somewhere and I can't wait to meet her too. Oh! He plays the banjo and speaks French!

Drew is becoming a really good friend. The shooting sports director this year, he has done great things on staff. My brother calls him the bad boy with the heart of gold. Nana is in love with him. I joke that I am not his type because I have morals. Yet he is the first to come to my rescue often times and a very fierce protector at that. He has a huge albino python called princess and I am desperately trying to catch the mouse in Med Lodge so he can feed it to her. Also, I fixed him up with Rosie, my hairdresser and friend. Fingers Crossed!

Matt. Here is a very sweet young man. Only 15 and new to camp. Such a hard worker though. If he hugs me one more time with a wet rain jacket I may kill him. But still very sweet. His mom is a professor and only slightly older than I am. He asked me the first day of camp (and remember he is only 15) which branch of medicine he should go into, in my opinion. Very seriously, I might add.

Poje. He's 18 this year. Still every inch the spunky, smart-mouth little brother, but I am starting to get glimpses of the man I think he really will be. He completed his Eagle this summer and I am very proud of him. He starts college this year too. Valdosta may never be the same.

Mike and Jason. The Eagle brothers. One runs camp, the other runs the kitchen. Both are forces to be reckoned with when they are mad. It's the Irish temper thing. Mike has really become one of my best friends over the past year. I have enormous respect for both of these young men. Sometimes I even am nice to them... Mostly I just sass them because I can.

This list is by no means exhaustive and there are so many more, but these are the ones that came to mind.

They are my boys.

Unsure, Confused, Tired...

It's Sunday and I had a nice weekend, but I am still very conflicted about some things and rapidly running out of time.

Early in the year I began to recognize that a situation I may or may not be in was probably not ideal and possibly not conducive to my emotional health for all that it met some real needs/gaps in my life. This summer sort of really brought that issue into the forefront.

So I recognized it, bemoaned it, and then promptly hid from it. But I knew there would be a reckoning.

Someone wise and trustworthy has come forward and said that they would step in and at least bring the situation to people's attention. I was grateful to dodge the bullet.

Now I am not sure.

In solving the problem I do stand to loose something of value to me. There will be a hole. Further there will be awkwardness and maybe even some pain.

If I was honest, I am not even sure I want the problem solved.

Except that I know it is probably a problem and probably not really right.

But after this summer there is a chance it will simply go away, so why can't I just wait.

If I don't let my friend step in for me, I still have time to do it myself, but... I'll have to do it myself. There are problems to that solution as well.

I really need to figure this out.

There is another possibility.

This is in my head, this is my problem, just a symptom of my staggering dysfunction as an adult in adult relationships.

My therapist and I agree that in many ways I arrested emotionally at the point when Mom left us. When I was 15. He says in many ways, for all that I am intelligent, self aware and mature, that I am still that wounded 15 year old and I have to face this issue to move on.

He's right.

But I still am not sure of the answer to this.

And I don't like the cost.

This is where the tears come and I rail at the sky.

"Why do I have to be alone? What did I do that was so wrong? Why can't someone just love me? What is wrong with me? How do I keep ending up here? When does the pain stop? Why can't this just be simple?"

So with less than three days to go to reckoning and possible moment of truth I am fearful, unsure, confused and tired to tears.

I imagine I'll live though.

(Sorry I have nothing funny to add. I'll think about it a bit and get back to you later.)

The Fourth

My heart swells with pride on The Fourth of July.

Yesterday I oversaw an Eagle Honor Court POW MIA ceremony in the Dining Hall and this evening I am singing America the Beautiful with one of the young men (a vocal performance major and quite the baritone!) from camp.

My family has invested itself completely, one way or another in this country and as always I am so proud to be an American.

Especially today!

The Calvary

So I am a coward, but I am still going to do something. I have called in a friend to "pinch hit" on something I am afraid to do myself.

Sometime next week it will be done.

This will be done... sort of... until I have to answer for it and explain myself.

Then camp will be over and I will have to see what survives the rubble.

I wish I was braver.

But this is all I got right now.

Who's a Coward?

Not me. Not at all. There is nothing that I’m afraid of. I mean why should I be, right?

I’m afraid that this is all in my head, that I am making a mountain out of a mole hill, that I have listened to the wrong voices (and there are many) and am so immature and naive that I have really messed up here and am really wrong about it.

I am afraid that if I say something that I am going to loose a really good friend who (especially if I am wrong!) has only ever tried to help me.

I am afraid that I may hurt someone as much as I think they may be hurting me, just as unintentionally. Then what would that say about me.

I am afraid of all the things that saying something will cost me.

I am afraid of all the things that not saying something will cost me.

I am afraid that if I do say something I will say it wrong and it will be as awful and un-closure-y as just letting it go and not saying anything.

I am afraid that my current plan is a bad idea.

I am afraid that the time afterward will be terrible.

I am afraid of life going back to what it was.

I am afraid of what this whole ridiculous situation means about me.

I am afraid that I really have the emotional maturity of a fifteen year old and that I’m gonna be stuck here forever.

I am afraid that this is my fault to begin with and now someone else is getting held responsible for it.

I am afraid of feeling this.

I am afraid.

How can someone be happy and fulfilled and enjoying life and scared and mad and unsure all at the same time?

Why can't this ever just be simple.

There is no comfort that this is simply a learning experience, because I know there is no prize, but the lesson at the end and I will still be alone. It would help if I thought I was fighting for something or someone.

And no, in this case, me doesn't count.