After a filling breakfast in Lake Placid and a stop at the water spring to fill up my three Nalgene water bottles, I made the 45 minute drive Southeast to Westport, New York on the shores of Lake Champlain. You've probably heard of Lake Champlain before, but if you aren't intimately familiar with it, the lake is a large North to South spanning lake the bisects New York and Vermont's border line with each other. It is strategically placed between the St. Lawrence and Hudson Rivers so it has a long history of military, economic, and more recently recreational significance over the past four hundred years.
Westport, NY is home to Camp Dudley, a boy's camp where I spent five Summers as a youth enjoying the outdoors, playing sports, hiking, canoeing, and participating in many other camp activities. Whenever I go down "memory lane" I've learned to be cautious in setting my expectations. Even thumbing through pages of an old yearbook, or visiting a town that was once home many years ago can trigger a range of emotions from happiness of recalling golden moments to strong sorrow that time is not able to be turned back to relive or reconnect with people once close and points in time that now live forever as memories.
I hadn't been back to Dudley since 1982, so I was anticipating a nostalgic afternoon of reminiscing while walking around campus. I was expecting much more of a reflective and personal experience that triggered memories deep within without much reconnection to the actual camp experience that was present and going on around me in this 120th season of Dudley's impressive program history. I guess I just assumed that my camping experience from long ago could not be replaced 22 Summers later with an entirely different roster of staff and campers than I once knew.
Well, my very first encounter once I stepped under the gates of Dudley's main entrance started to challenge my low expectations. The next two days of my life would be spent as an honorary staff member, as what John Storey (Development Director for the camp) described to me as the "prodigal son" experience; indeed it was. Shortly after parking my rig in the staff lot across from Dudley's entrance I walked onto camp property and saw a woman in her mid-thirties with a bright expression on her face and an eager stride heading my way. "Hello, I don't recognize you, are you here for a visit?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah. This is the first time I've been back in 21 years. I was a camper here from 1978-1982. I'm taking the Summer off from work and driving across the country. I just came through to see the camp." I said.
She introduced herself to me as Fran Bisselle, wife of the current camp director, Andy Bisselle. "You must've been here as a camper at the same time as Andy." She said. As it turns out he was one year ahead of me at camp. Fran made a point to personally escort me to the camp administrative offices to meet Andy and that promptly turned into an arm in arm photo of Andy and me within five minutes of my arrival. Andy and I had a five minute chat about who I still knew that was still active and present on camp grounds. There turned out to be a few staffers whose names I recognized, but I really didn't know them too well as campers except for one, "Davo". Mark Davenport is a few years old than me and his larger than life persona was as true back in 1980 as it was when he stepped into the administrative offices to offer me a big "welcome back" hug. I knew right away by looking at the positive expression on Davo's face that my decision to come back for a visit was a really good one. Not only was I welcome to be here as an unexpected visitor, but the magic that I once knew as a camper was certainly still here.
I don't quite now how to describe all of Davo's camp jobs as he is active in many roles across the camp, but I guess it can be summed up as saying he seemed to be Camp Dudley's president while Andy is its CEO. I certainly didn't want to usurp too much time from Andy and Davo, they have a huge responsibility to 400 boys for sixty days each Summer and we were right in the thick of it. But their hospitality and generosity were clear from the start, and Dave said "Well, you know the program Jeff. Make yourself at home. Feel free to stay at Cutler Point or maybe there's room in the staff housing in McLean. You can eat with the staff in the staff dining hall. Are you going to stay for the show tonight and the hymn sing tomorrow?"
"Wow", I thought. Probably I said it outloud. I hadn't expected this much of a welcome, and now I found myself remembering back to Sunday night hymn sings where the entire camp gathers on the floor of Witherbee hall sitting amongst three weather-worn grand pianos and spend 90 minutes singing songs from the Dudley hymnal that seem to have been hand picked for their unique ability to combine Christian spirituality with the untempered macho adolescence of 10-14 yr old boys. I started remembering specific songs individually, and the traditional finale of songs that end with "Now the day is over" and the entire camp humming the verses while the lights are faded to black once the words have all been sung.
"Maybe I will" I finally answered to Davo's question. "I'd really like to be here for that."
"You shouldn't miss it." he said. "I'm going to have to run, but there's someone here you ought to meet. He's from the Seattle area too, and I think you guys have a lot in common. He's also on sabbatical and he is helping out with our hike hut staff this summer."
Bill Harper is an Episcopalian minister from Grace Church in Bainbridge Island. He took a sabbatical this Summer in part to enroll in a Wilderness First Responder program at the National Outdoor Leadership Scool. The other part of Bill's plan was to come back to Camp Dudley where he has been a staffer for fourteen years to contribute to the hiking program at Camp Dudley while simultaneously starting to explore curriculum development for outdoor and challenge programs for troubled youths. I didn't get a picture of Bill to share on the site, but he is a medium height, late thirties/early forties, physically fit guy with almost shoulder length flowing light colored hair. He looks like a soccer player to me though I never confirmed that with him... Bill did you play?
I instantly gravitated to Bill partly because we were both from the Seattle area, partly because we were both on sabbatical, and partly because I was fascinated with his participation in the wilderness program at NOLS. I hadn't planned to spend an extra day at Dudley, but now I was rethinking my plans. I had an extra buffer day, and I very quickly decided to spend it here at Dudley. I found an extra room in the McLean lodge and brought a backpack full of the basic necessities for a couple of days. Staying in McLean meant I'd also get a warm shower both mornings I was there which was an added bonus. Once settled in, I started embarking around the campus to take in the many changes that have taken place over the past twenty years at Camp Dudley.
I had been told of the many changes by everyone I had seen so far, Andy and Fran, Davo, and even Bill. Regardless of their perspectives, mine was quite different. Sure, there were new buildings that housed the administration, and both Witherbee and Beckman halls (the two largest buildings at camp) had received major facelifts through renovation projects. Also the locations of cabins the four divisions (cub, plebe, junior, and senior) were housed in was rearranged. Some changes in the program structure had been made (five day hiking trips had been discontinued but fine arts had been added as an individual major). And some nice features had been added to the camp (such as the ropes challenge course out by Cutler Point). But these changes were largely mechanical in nature and I was much more interested in the intangible changes of what day to day life at camp was like now, how much I still felt the Dudley spirit, and in what traditions had changed and stayed the same over the years. Along these lines, my experience was that there was very little change over twenty years. I guess that is why I felt that my trip to Dudley was a reconnection instead of a reminiscence.
Camp Dudley has a motto: "The other fellow first". This motto is taken to heart by the leaders and campers at Dudley, and each camper can be recognized at the end of the season with a divisional award that demonstrates their commitment to the values and positive behavior embodied in the motto and spirit of the camp. The spirit of Dudley is one of positive attitude and teamwork marked by an undercurrent of a quirky sense of humor and fun. There is a vocabulary that hasn't changed a bit in over twenty years. A "stain" is a person that acts like a pain in the neck. Saying "Yaho" while touching your fingertips together over your head and moving both hands up and down is a sign of appreciation - a substitute for the overused term "awesome". And when something looks like it is going to result in a bad outcome, there is "no safety there". These and many other Dudley sayings contribute to the spirit and culture of the camp which has remained consistent over time. While I've seen elements of Dudley's culture in other organizations, the overall package is something that is unique to this little corner of the world called Camp Dudley.
I connected with many other people at Camp Dudley including:
- John Storey, Development Director for the camp, who shared many stories of other alumni and their experiences reconnecting with the camp over the years. I enjoyed meeting John whose passion for Dudley over the years was something I could easily relate to. Perhaps there are ways I can continue to be active in this community on an ongoing basis.
- A 14 yr old Aide (Dudley's term for a couseler-in-training) from Baltimore that had recently returned from the Adirondack woods for his "Aide experience" a week long adventure in the backwoods that test and challenge each participant's wilderness skills.
- Casey from the hike hut staff who gave me a personal tour of the new ropes challenge course at the camp. Casey spends the rest of his year in Hawaii managing challenge course outings there.
- The Dudley Doings (weekly camp newsletter that is circulated to campers during the summer) and Last Whistle (camp yearbook) staff and a tour of their production facilities in the second floor of the 90 yr old Avery Boathouse.
- An evening walk around campus with Bill Harper during "Vespers". Vespers are evening discussions within each cabin led by each cabin's leader that explore Christian values and beliefs based on practical experiences and real-life stories.
- Willie Schmidt, former camp director during my time as a camper. Willie's son Don was one of my campers when I was an Aide in 1982. I really enjoyed seeing Willie because he had a leadership style all his own. He could be tough as nails when needed, but he always did so w/ a lot of love and a zany sense of humor. I still remember his evening rounds each night when he called out to each cabin "Goodnight Adirondack! Goodnight Iroquois! Goodnight St. Lawrence!" and so on... Each night during the camp season, every cabin (there are close to forty cabins) would get this good night greeting from Willie. This is a tradition I saw repeated during my evening walk around campus with Bill when we saw Andy making the same rounds to say goodnight to each cabin.
My visit concluded with the Sunday evening hymn sing which was as magic as I had remembered. I sat (with the other staff and alumni) in the back (seated area) of Witherbee while all the Leaders and campers sat back to back on the floor. At one point during the hymn sing Andy pauses between songs to recognize the alumni present in the room. Instead of clapping to recognize the alumni who proudly stood and recited their camper numbers* as I did when I was a camper twenty years ago, I was now one of those standing in the back of the room and when it was my turn I proudly stated my number #12305. Fortunately I only got a small round of applause from the crowd as the louder cheers are saved for the older alumni with lower camper numbers. The lowest number of the night? #8865, yikes.... it won't be too long before I am the one they are celebrating the most.
Hymn sign was brought to a close in the same four song medley that I had recalled from my youth: Amazing Grace, Climb Every Mountain, The Dudley Hymn, and Now the day is over. While these songs eventually built themselves into a comfort ritual when I was a camper, they know each held much more significant meaning for me: Amazing Grace because it had been played at the funeral of my friend's 7 year old son who was tragically killed in late June this year when he was ran over while riding his bike on the street in front of his house. Climb Every Mountain because the song's lyrics were quite appropriate for the personal odyssey in which I presently found myself taking across the country. The Dudley Hymn because of how it helped to reinforce the connection I had made once as a boy and now again as a man with Camp Dudley. And Now the day is over, for its symbolic value in separating today from tomorrow and its ability to provide closure to the long journey of "today".
I walked quietly back to my room in McLean wanting to interact with no one in particular but to reflect on my reconnection with Dudley and soak in the feelings stirred up by the hymn sing. As my head hit the pillow I recalled one more Sunday night tradition that I hadn't remembered until just that point in time. It was as if the preconditioned portion of my brain that held all of my memories was triggered into action by the absence of music I now did not hear coming through the summer air toward my sleeping porch. Twenty years ago once all campers returned to their cabins and were lying in bed, four musicians on the camp staff would sit on the porch of Witherbee and play 3-4 songs as a brass quartet. Maybe, I thought, the brass quartet was something they had when I was a camper because of the staff's unique abilities during those years I was a camper. That must be it. Maybe it wasn't a long-standing tradition after all but just something that worked out to happen for the few years I was at camp. That had to be it. Oh well... Not everything can stay exactly the same as I remembered it.
As my eyes became heavier a few minutes later the first notes from a French Horn, Trumpet, Trombone, and Tuba floated across the campus weightlessly through each cabin including my sleeping porch in the staff housing at McLean. I was pretty sure my mind wasn't playing tricks on me, but even if it was the smile that came across my face lasted well beyond the point in time that I fell asleep and I slept better than I had in a long long time.
*Camp numbers at Dudley are a tradition that started with camper #1 George Peck in 1885 to present day where there are now over 19,000 camper numbers issued)
