Everything I Know About Summer Camp

1. People are different here. Maybe it’s the fresh mountain air, the clearest and bluest skies you’ve ever seen, or the crisp flashing streams that wave as you pass. Maybe it’s just summertime vibes, our complete lack of responsibility mingled with the extra Vitamin D shinning down on our faces. Whatever it is, it has the mighty power to change us. Winding roads wither us down, peeling away the external layers we hide behind at home and leave us naked, stripped to that core essence of who and what we are when no adaptations, expectations, or limitations are fastened on our shoulders. People are different here.

2. There is no such thing as the perfect bunk. I know it seems like if you don’t get that one top bunk in the center of the room right by the fan that your month of camp will be horrible and hot and you won’t make any friends so you might as well just go home right now because there is no point anymore and you should have just joined that stupid travel lacrosse team and gone to the beach with Sarah instead because camp is dumb and for little kids anyways. Stop that, you know it’s not true. Go take a look at your bunk. Sure, it’s in the back corner, but that window ledge makes for a ton of extra shelf space. Plus, it’s a top just like you wanted. It’s placement at the back of the room will provide the sliver of privacy you need for discreetly dealing with those first-day-of-the-cycle-snuck-up-on-me stains. And you don’t know this just yet but the girl who will become your best friend in the whole wide world is about to move in right below you. Her name is Mary Martha and she’s a sugar-coated ghost pepper. There is no such thing as the perfect bunk (just the perfect bunk-mate).

3. Do what you like, not what your friends like. There is no point in crying over the fact that nobody in your cabin is in any of your tree day activities. And there really is no point in deciding to give up canoeing (your favorite activity!) to take up dance so that you and Isabelle can bond. Even though Isabelle will get mad at you for a few days because she thinks you “don’t want to be near her,” be grateful you stayed in canoeing. Also, stop complaining. Laurel is in your Pine Day hiking group and so is Grace. Be thankful that you get to explore the beautiful Pisgah National Forest with them. Use those “dreaded” Tree Days to meet other girls, to teach little Cabin 1 Leighton how to hold her canoe paddle. You’ll be happy you did because years later when you are the counselor in charge of canoeing and Leighton is the oldest girl in your class you can think to yourself, damn, I did good as she takes on the role of boat 1: backseat in camp’s sacred canoe formation tradition. The same year, Mary Martha will get to teach cooking with the new chef and be totally in her element and Isabella will somehow end up in archery all day even though she never took it as a camper but she’ll love it. It all works out for the best so just stay in your own lane. Do what you like, not what your friends like.

4. The dance will suck. It’s just a fact. For 24 hours leading up and after it, all you will hear is the Cider song. Please, for the love of God just embrace it. You have one month in this magical wonderland of pine trees and to-the-grave accomplices. Don’t let boys ruin that. Boys will ruin enough things in your life, do not let them ruin the sacredness of summer camp. You are never too old not to get into it. If boys aren’t your thing, pull a Mary, dress up like a nun and go win the dance off to the Sound of Music soundtrack. Or maybe you are more of an Ellie who single handedly beat all of her eligible young suitors at giant chess while simultaneously reading the manga version of Death Note and successfully beating me in an argument about the merits of online publishing (she is a goddess). Promptly at 8:30, you will pile back onto the bus and realize nobody found the man of their dreams and that love is a scam and then you will shell out these and all of the other pep talks you give to yourself in times of doubt to that one girl in your cabin who really thought this would be the night she fell in love. It’s all very anticlimactic but did I not warn you. The dance will suck.

5. Write your parents letters. Please realize that there would be no magical land of singing and pine trees without your parents and the hard-earned fortune they spend for you to go to camp. My mother said she could have bought a small villa with the money she spent for my sister and me to go to camp. Taking fifteen minutes to write a letter is not hard. Besides the occasional photograph of you and Mary Martha with the camp dog that gets posted on the website, your parents will have no idea if you are still alive. And even when they see that photo, they have no idea who Mary Martha is or what the dog’s name is or even why you are wearing pajamas in the middle of the day. Write and explain that you met this amazing girl named Mary Martha and that her bunk is under yours and that you two started whispering sweet nothings into Lisa the Dog’s ear because she just looks so lonely when she’s sunbathing on the porch and that you ran out of clean shorts already so p.j. pants were your only option. Be detailed. Be honest. Be thorough. Write your parents letters.

6. Sing. Nothing makes me sadder than a girl who decides she is too good/old/bad to sing camp songs. It simply isn’t true. The whole reason camp songs exist is because of how joyful they make us feel and how close they bring us together. There is nothing better than a room full of happy girls singing at the top of their lungs. Just try it for yourself if you don’t believe me. Singing at the end of the camp session brings me to aggressive tears. Find me at Sing-Around-The-Lake and I’ll be a sobbing mess. Something about the imperfect harmony of old tunes with true lyrics gets to me. Be a part of that beautiful mayhem. Sing.

7. Saying goodbye is hard. I am a hardcore crier and even consider it my “camp thing”. Some people are really into making friendship bracelets, others channel their inner Katniss and master archery. But not me. I am known around town for my tears. I do not consider this a bad thing, I like to think I just experience things more intensely than other girls. For example, during my summer as a Junior Consoler I cried four times at the screening of Moana. My campers (who all already knew about the magical grandma turtle) though I was crazy. I also cried when the new camp dog got in a scuffle with the old camp dog, they were tears of joy. Sometimes I don’t even know what I am crying about but all I know is that when cars of happy parents start pulling through the main gate, I dissolve into a heap. My cabin mates have compared me to many things over my years leaving camp some of which include: a screaming banshee, Niagara Falls, and even Dwight from The Office (though I’m more of a Parks and Rec girl myself so I have no idea what they mean by this). But jokes aside, closing day is hard. You have spent a month with your sisters-from-another-mister and just as soon as you settle in with your new family, you are torn away and thrown back into reality. All of a sudden a cell phone is thrust back into your hand and you are sitting in the back seat of your mom’s car and she is arguing with your dad about how to get on the highway and you are waving to all of your friends from the one sliver of trunk window that your stuff doesn’t cover. It’s all very Hollywood and dramatic. And then you finally sit back in your seat and mom and dad have stopped arguing and you slip your phone into the little pocket on the back of the passenger seat. And you talk with your parents who spew their never-ending onslaught of questions but it’s okay because it’s been a month since you’ve seen them and after all you got to spend it at summer camp.

By Cate O., 17, Atlanta, GA