When I was a kid in the 70s, I used to go away to a boys summer camp called Camp Wabenaki. I have some great and enduring memories of the place -- the wood cabins named after Indian tribes, the rocks (everywhere), and the "shaves" given by the camp director Ralph Hittman as we trudged past him on our way to the dining hall.
One of the first things you learned at Camp Wabenaki was the history of the place. Wabenaki in Algonquin means "Place of Stone". I'm not sure if that's an accurate translation, but it made sense to me at the time. Another thing you learned was how to respond to a fellow camper's call of "Wabenaki Braves!!!!!" The reply was "How!!!!" It all seems so silly now, but it gave us a sense of unity; a sense of belonging to something special. That the camp director was a former U.S. Marine who saw combat in the Second World War explains the lesson. Many of the "practices" he put in place - from cabin cleaning, to making beds with hospital corners, to raising and lowering the flag to a bugle call - were right out of the U.S. Military handbook.
I made some great friends there. I kissed a girl for the first time. I learned how to swim there. The list goes on and on. The memories are flooding in so fast now that I am editing as I type this, back-tracking through the entry, writing in new sections as I go. But one of the most enduring memories was the home sickness I felt as both a camper and a counselor.
My earliest memories of feeling home sick goes back to 1974, when I was a camper. I was 10 at the time (on 2nd trip), and I remember becoming terribly anxious the minute I got there. I would cry inconsolably about all sorts of irrational thoughts, such as "what if my family is in trouble?" This, despite the fact I had two older brothers with me at the camp as counselors. I didn't matter. I missed my friends. I missed my parents. I missed home.
My counselor then was a guy named David. How he tried his best to deal with my bouts of home sickness. One day, he got fed up and grabbed a handful of pine needles and asked, "Have you ever smelled this in the city? There's so much to appreciate out here and you're hung up on going home. Forget home. Smell this. Have fun. Let go." I suppose his words did me some good, not because of his reasoning, but because he did it in front of the other campers. It was then I realized how I was acting like a three-year old, and felt shame over my behavior. But it didn't stop me from being home sick. I just learned how to hide it better.
Flash forward to today. I am writing this from my hotel room in New Delhi, India on a two-week business trip. I left behind all that is dear to me in this world -- my home, my family -- and I miss them terribly. I am home sick once again, and what's helping me get through it is my experience as a Wabenaki Brave. I think of all those moments lying in my bunk alone with my thoughts trying to sort through what was real and what wasn't, crying because I wasn't home.
I can't help but have those same feelings right now. I wonder if they'll be okay. I wonder what I'll do if I get some bad news from home. Car accident? Robbery victim? House fire? This is the shit that races through my head; the same shit that kept me awake crying as a 10-year old. I'm 43 now and I'm crying because I'm not home. Only this time, I have no camp counselor to help me snap out of it; no "how" to my "Wabenaki Braves".
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Over the years teaching at La Scuola d’Italia NY, I have learned that
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6 months ago
HOW!
ReplyDeleteI'm reading your post some 2 years after it was written, but you have brought me back. I was a camper a Wabenaki almost 20 years after you were, but I remember the things you talk about in detail. I remember Ralph Hitman's shaves, shouting How on the way to the mess hall, my bunks Huron (first time), and Cherokee (2nd time), and most vividly the homesickness. However my recollection was a little different. When I was told I was going to sleep away camp (I was 11) with my younger brother, I was not a happy camper (pun intended, I thinK). I remember crying as the bus pulled away frome the BBR on 888 E. 6th street, and watching my mother, and calling out for her from the bus, and immediately writing a postcard stating how miserable I was, and how I felt it was wrong she was doing this to me.
ReplyDeleteI then spent the next year doing nothing but thinkin and dreaming of camp Wabenaki. I litteraly could not wait to go back. The transformation was so complete that it still amazes me to this day. My father told me I would have a great time, and boy was he right.
ReplyDeleteMy second time at camp, 3 things happened which kept me from anticipating and longing to back the next year. First, I became extermely sick during the trip, so sick I had to be taken to the hospital, I can remeber lying in the infirmary as the nurse put cloth filled with Ice on my back to try and break my fever, probably one of the worst physical feeling I have ever had, I can still hear myself moaning and begging her to stop. Second, this time around I celebrated my 12th birthday at camp, and I remember missing my family and friends. The third thing happened after the summer, when my family moved from New York to Denver CO, the following summer all I wanted to do was go back to Queens, and see my family and friends, and also turning 13 is that age where lots of priorities change for boys, and camp Wabenaki just no longer was one of mine.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I remember that after my sickness at camp (2nd trip, 3 weeks), I became somewhat of a celebrity getting special treatment from the couselors, especially Rose, Ralphs wife, I even got to sit at the head table for no reason other than I was getting better (do you remember King for a day, I wanted to win so bad both times, but I didn't, so when they started giving me preferential treatment, I felt like a King for days). Also, you probably remeber mail time durring lunch (I think),you would sit anxiously hoping your name was called and you would get some correspondance from home, well one day I came to lunch and noticed 2 very large boxes sitting with the mail and became extremely jealous of whoever was getting the boxes. I can't explain the feeling of joy I got when they finally got to those boxes durring mail call (and not only me the entire camp was on the edge of their seats), and they unexpectedly called out the names of my brother and I (his birthday is 1 week after mine, and I think the boxes came a few days after my birthday, and a few days before his), I'm sure it's the same feeling actors get when they hear they've won an oscar. There are so many memories I could sit here and write forever (I know I'm rambling, and I don't care). Remember the Color Wars? Valley of the Boulders? The Dam (Beaver Dam if I recall correctly)at the edge of the lake? Planning to try to sneak away with my friends to go to one of the other camps on the lake that had girl campers. I was a bit chubby as a kid, and walking up and down the hill everyday to the mess hall, swimming, and hiking actually made me loose some weight. The list goes on and on. And here I am almost 20 years later, still thinking of camp Wabenaki so often that I finaly tried to google it to find out what is going on with the camp and I came to your blog. I am glad I did because writing this comment (the longest I ever have) has brought back many wonderful memories. I don't know if you'll ever read this comment, but if you do, please drop me an email, and maybe we can reminisce some more. nappybandit134@yahoo.com.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, thanks for the Post, and God Bless.
Wabenaki Braves
HOW!