I Got A Call From My Best Friend

“Be the hero of your own life.” Not sure what to expect and told by my camp counselor to mentally release and let go of everything

The three of us would do everything at camp together. On the extensive walks to the camps’ doctor’s office for routine feedings, we would share personal stories unbeknownst to anyone in our lives. I shared my struggle of my camper, Paige, not showing up and how incredibly difficult it was for me to see everyone have someone to share the most life changing week with. Opening up to them in one of the hardest situations I had ever faced was beyond valuable. Through this tough and emotional experience I found myself, but more importantly, God. I had culminated so many new friends

My mom continued driving down the road to the camp. My anxiety got worse as the minutes went by. I kept thinking that things would go wrong. Maybe I would break my phone on accident. Maybe the upperclassmen would be mean.

On a sunny, steamy summer day in mid-July, as I passed under a bronze archway reading Rocky River Ranch, little did I know what the future held. Camp life was a 180-degree turn from the peace and quiet I was used to in my calm home. Being an only child from a household with two loving parents, my life lacked conflict. As a shy, introverted person I quickly had to adapt to a place full of endless chatter, interaction, and wacky songs. I was nervous about my ability to make such a difficult transition, but the love and positivity abound at camp simplified the shift.

I take a deep breath and start down the dirt path to where I will live for the next twelve days. The air is crisp, oddly like autumn for an August afternoon. I pull my thin cotton T-shirt closer to my body. I already miss the stifling dry heat. !follow the other two kids and the camp counselor in front of me, trying to avoid turning my ankle on the roots in the path that seem to pop up from nowhere. The boys in front of me don't seem nervous, they're joking with the counselor like they've been friends forever even though they had only just met. I paste a too-stiff smile across my thirteen-year-old cheeks and try to close the distance between myself, the boys, and the counselor. The counselor stops abruptly by a patch of knee-high grass just before a fork in the road and turns to me. I feel my face redden. The counselor is around nineteen years old with curly chestnut hair fashioned in a short haircut that has clearly grown out throughout the long summer months, a stray curl loops around their unpierced ear and rests against their cheek; they have an

I was the only camper in the entire camp; the busses from Chicago didn’t arrive until three in the afternoon. My counselors took me with them to the mess hall where all of these girls on staff were in their Uggs sweatpants and sweatshirts eating breakfast. It’s June, who wears ugg boots in the summer? After hours of sitting on my cold hard mattress on the top bunk, as I wasn’t allowed to unpack until the rest of my cabin arrived, there was an announcement, “Attention all campers and counselors RUN RUN RUN to the top of the hill the busses are almost here!!” I had never seen a more excited group of people in my entire life and I had no clue why. I get to the top of the hill where the counselors are singing at the top of their lungs “we welcome you to Chippewa were mighty glad you’re here” the girls started filing out of the three huge coach busses and tons of hugs were exchanged. There were tears of joy along with sad tears, many squeals and overall just an indescribable vibe. We all made our way to the center fire circle where cabins were announced. I was in the first cabin, the youngest cabin. I gathered with my soon to be best friends and walked back to my cabin. I was looking around, these girls had just spent 6 hours together on the bus and they know each other from home. Are they going to hate me? How do I make friends? These were

Finally, the long anticipated 11 months of waiting to return to my second home were over. Ever since I was a child, Heart O the Hills Camp was my safe heaven. One month a year I had the opportunity to grow up making the greatest memories at the most beautiful place in the world. There is no better sight in the world than lying on the warm tennis courts surrounded by my closest friends, gazing at the patterns of the illuminating stars above in the crystal clear, mesmerizing hill country sky. Those tennis courts where my friends and I gathered on almost every night was a symbol my care-free childhood. Having the freedom to do what I wanted, whenever I wanted, with no real consequences was one of the perks of being a camper.

It was a balmy July morning when my family and I drove out to Lycoming College to begin my week at PFEW. An uneasy feeling set in as I realized that I will be surrounded by strangers in an uncommon environment for a whole seven days. Adding onto this stress was the fact that I have never been away from my parents for more than one night. Upon my arrival, all of the camp participants were ushered to a large auditorium and given a welcome presentation. Looking around at all the unfamiliar faces, I felt the urge to call my parents and avoid

"Dammit Jake." I muttered as I picked it up. I proceeded to Jakes bed, and slipped it under his pillow. It's only my first week at Camp Sedemihcra. Don't even ask how to pronounce that. It's a great camp. So far my cabin has had so much fun. I brought my PlayStation 4 and another guy in my cabin, Vincent, brought "Deadpool" (The Video Game and the movie). We honestly laughed our heads off. Besides that, we've had deep conversations, we talked about girls, did stand up in our cabin at 1 in the morning, and we all masturbated in the rival cabin in their beds.

I went to camp for the first time last summer to get away from the pressures of home and school. Camp was a month long, I have never been away from my parents more than a week. I was very anxious. I had no idea what situations to expect and how I would handle them. I started to really wonder about my life. The way it was going was not the best for me. I can “run away” from my reality, but I know that I was going to have to come back to it in a month. The way I treat people was total opposite from how I treated my parents. What my friends were capable of doing was not a bit close to what my parents would let me do, my parents are very narrow minded. My grandparents were even more

No matter what happened during the school year I would always come back to camp and be able to spend time with the girls that went from friends to family over the nine years that I had known them. This last year was the last time I would ever get to do activities, earn merits or even swim a mile. During my last two weeks at CLH I knew this but it did not sink in until it was my last time to hike up to Church Mountain as a camper. On the way up my eyes started to sting and I reached over and grabbed my friend Riata’s hand. I looked over at her and saw that she was crying too. Once I realized she was I looked around and witnessed my entire cabin start to break down and come to understand, this was our last year, our last chance to do anything a camper could do. It was during this time that I truly came to appreciate everything camp has taught me and the great friends that I made along the way.

I stared at the rough wall of our new “home.” Since I was stuck in an internment camp, there was no way my summer -and maybe the rest of my life- was going to be enjoyable. The torrid camp was hot and dry, There were more people than the overcrowded barrack could fit. Each barrack held row upon row of cots.

As the week progressed and friendships formed between everyone, I realized the importance of the camp to all that were involved. To the counselors it was a learning experience, as well as a time to appreciate all that we would usually take for granted; to the campers it was a time to learn and make new friends, and for most of them, it would also serve as their only form of a summer vacation. So although we were all exhausted by the end of the week, we had a great time.

The year is 2003, I am eight and for half of a year I have lived with my grandmother and my brothers. The school year has just ended and summer has begun. “I’m tired of you kids, you boys have been driving me up the walls and I need a break!” my grandmother said. “You’re going to summer camp!” I had never been camping but that did not stop a smile only a child could have stretch from ear to ear across my little face. With a mouth lacking in front teeth, I screamed, “Yay!” My grandmother had signed us up for the annual boys and girls club summer camping trip, meaning eight weeks of fun under a warm sun at camp Big Silver in the neighboring state, Michigan. I will never forget my first day of summer camp.

This Summer, I had the best time of my life. I learned some valuable lessons, I made some friends, and I had so much fun. Even if I didn’t know it. This is the story of my summer camp experience.