
June 22, 2024
As per usual, the summer starts off with a lifeguarding course that is -inevitably- cold. This one however, was extra. I guess this is the farthest north I have ever taken the training. No less than half of us were shivering through our drills, and nothing less than all of us were giggling while enjoying hot chocolate and goldfish from inside the heated outdoor pool. Our two day crash course was supplemented with the American Red Cross Online Learning Modules for lifesaving procedures. Our second day was spent indoors thanks to the kindness of a local gym that chuckled when we delivered Girl Scout cookies as a thank you.


The lifeguarding course is not the extent of the impact of the Red Cross here. Alongside small craft safety, AED/CPR, and Wilderness First Aid, the Camp worked directly to support the Red Cross by establishing a surgical dressing work room during both world wars. They also tended to Victory Gardens to support the war effort.
I am starting to lose count of Girl Scout centers I have had the honor of learning and growing at, but I know that this one is uniquely special and I can not yet imagine the impact it will hold over my life in the coming decades. I can only hear the stories of others to know that this place is somewhere special. Currently, I have the opportunity to direct the 115th summer of this camp.

July 14, 2024
We took the Counselors In Training up to the primitive unit so they could have their solo camp outs. We distributed them far enough apart that they could (for the most part) see one another, but had to speak loudly to hear one another. They all had whistles and if they needed something could easily shout for assistance, but mostly we heard them making jokes and giggling to one another.
Before camp began, I attended a meeting for all the local camp health care supervisors in the area. I met a nurse who told me how impactful it was for her as a CIT at our camp to partake in a solo overnight expedition. She said that because of this training and experience she had gone on to solo hike the Appalachian trail. All due to the confidence instilled in her because of our program. In fact this continues to be a theme for my summer where I meet alumni of our camp out in the community who share the profound impact Girl Scout Camp had on their lives (including one woman who said five generations of her family had attended our camp).

Anyway, it was important that the CITs had some time alone. Not only so that they could develop their skills and confidence of being in the woods alone, but so they could recharge after helping to facilitate our new bridging ceremony. During staff training the staff had asked that we bring skits back to our closing ceremonies. I was impressed that we had access to such a nice theater and surprised by the bridges that were there, so we decided to also implement a new camp tradition alongside bringing back skits. A Girl Scout Bridging ceremony is when one enters a new age level or when they want to celebrate another year passed of making the Girl Scout Promise.
On one side of the bridge someone stands and says farewell to the age group that is moving up. Then someone welcomes them after they cross a bridge and shakes their hand with the official Girl Scout handshake. I could not have anticipated the support and excitement from the campers. More joyous than I could have expected. Screaming and cheering. So loud that not only did we have to cover our ears, but I feared that the windows might blow out. Or partially wished, that there were no walls to contain and reverberate, the sound across the concrete floors. They truly celebrated their friends, bridging to a new level. It was even better than I could have hoped it would have gone.
At the beginning of the ceremony I started out by asking who knew what a bridging ceremony was, about 15 tiny hands shot up in the air almost pulling themselves out of their seats. I called on them one at a time to have them stand and face the room to share with us what they knew. There was some repetition in information and a lot of new details that even I was excited to learn. Mostly, I loved watching these young Girl Scouts practice their public speaking and sharing their enthusiasm for Girl Scouting with others to bring them in and to create a feeling of belonging over this shared experience. When we began the ceremony with the sounds of nearly 100 Girl Scouts reciting the Girl Scout promise and law I know I was not the only adult in the room that felt overcome with a sense of emotion, holding back a few unexpected tears, totally moved by the next generation and all these sweet tiny voices echoing off one another while they promised to do their best to make the world a better place.
On my honor, I will try to serve God* and my country, to help people at all times, and to live by the Girl Scout Law.
I will do my best to be,
honest and fair,
friendly and helpful,
considerate and caring,
courageous and strong,
responsible for what I say and do,
respect myself and others,
inspect authority,
use resources wisely,
make the world a better place,
and be a sibling to every Girl Scout.
July 18, 2024
2:34 AM
It looks like a small war zone has broken out inside my cabin or a tornado has hit. No longer are there places to put things. I am waiting for a true chunk of time to be able to reset completely and reorganize. I woke up from a nightmare about ticks. My water bottle smells like vomit, it needs a good wash. An owl hoots in the distance and rain fell softly while I was asleep. Snippets of songs are getting stuck in my head for hours or days at a time, popping in when there is silence and trying to override the owls in the distance. "And we sing the old songs about Justice and Freedom Find Peace in Cathedrals of trees" Lines that start to blend together in my head, listening to them, knowing that I have learned them from my elders whose footprints I was walking in and that it is my responsibility to keep the path clear and pass along the songs, understanding the great power in the message they share. Beginning to understand, seeing the cycle play out in the intergenerational movement, I was once the tiny tyke in the brown vest, away from home, surrounded by role models, I was once the little laughter in the green sash a whole state away from my family, singing the songs about justice and freedom. "We can feed our grain to cattle and the rich man will be fed, we will rise all together we will rise, or we can feed our grain to people so that millions will have bread, we will rise all together we will rise."
The seemingly eternal rain could be broken up by hours or minutes of sunshine. My sleeping bag had a twang to it never quite wet, yet never quite dry after nearly a month spitting distance from the lake, the humidity constantly settling. Two owls and a frog battle it off in the distance in the middle of the night. The cabin door creaks and squeaks, a fire alarm goes off in the distance set off by the high humidity and "coo coo coo coo coocoo" goes the owl, while a bullfrog reminds you that she is still there. Occasionally, an animal sounds like it is in slight distress on the water and you hope nothing is trying to eat the baby geese you have been watching grow all summer while simultaneously avoiding their minefield of poop.
A pang of hunger in my stomach confuses me. An overwhelming feeling of gratitude for a job that provides food security. This 22nd summer of Girl Scout Camp feels different than before. After watching a genocide unfold on my phone screen over the past nine months I can't help but be thankful for the peace, freedom, and safety to play and provide space for others to do the same. For the honor to provide a space for leadership development for children, teenagers, and adults, although sometimes I feel confused when I am approached with complaints of small issues with no solution oriented ideas. Don't they understand how lucky we are to be here? Don't they understand that Girl Scouts around the world do not live with the privilege that we do? Don't they understand that Girl Scouts around the world are even being refused the privilege of play, of education, of life? But of course they don't, I didn't always see these things. There is so much I still can not see. It is a privilege in itself to be blind to the injustices of the world.
There are Girl Scouts that don't get to go to camp for fun. Instead they are displaced into camps. I am so thankful for each moment even when challenging. For the stocked First Aid kits, for the trained first responders, for the clean drinking water, for the damp pillow cases, for the homesick campers who have loving and living families waiting at home for them.
I definitely DEFINITELY smell. I considered bringing my soap to the lake to combine a swim with what is affectionately known as a "camp shower" which definitely DEFINITELY counts as a real shower, but I forgot the soap, so I sleep in my damp hair, my slightly dirty clothes, my damp and stinky sleeping bag, covered in layers and layers of sunscreen that I can no longer see and I am thankful that I have the privilege to choose this experience.
After having a genocide live streamed to my cell phone, limbless children in my hands, I decided to turn off my social media for the summer, knowing that the best thing I can do in this moment is to raise strong leaders, to teach them conflict resolution skills, and to encourage them to sing loudly especially when the songs are silliest. To sing at the top of their lungs, knowing with all my heart that those songs and those movements will give them the body confidence to stand up for themselves and others. Those skills will transfer to the floor of the United Nations, into hospitals where they will either treat patients or advocate for themselves (or both), those little voices will one day become lawyers, scientists, artists, politicians, organizers, farmers, parents, community members, fundraisers, funders, and Girl Scout leaders who will promise each day to make the world a better place by putting more love and joy into the world.

July 22, 2024
There is something sticky on the picnic table that my pinky gets caught in. "Left Right left, one two three.” Squeals and giggles and little shouts emerge behind me as the music speeds up during the Hungarian dance lesson. The biggest takeaway from Hungarian dancing is that it involves various formations of holding hands, syncopated footwork after shuffling in one direction before going backwards, and the music is always always always speeding up. As I'm sitting and thinking of these moments and the friendships I have made, I see a little line of campers emerge from the woods and begin to carry out paddle boards onto the water. A green life vested kid leaps up into the air and out off the dock descending into the dark lake- full of joy- before climbing up and onto their paddle boards. The Hungarian dance lesson behind me moves onto a louder, sillier, and faster song, this time there are lyrics and they are spinning around with partners to a jazzy saxophone. On Wednesday I will be teaching a Lindy Hop lesson.


The small Hungarians now have three layers encircling each other, each going in opposing directions, every once and a while when their dance teacher instructs them, they change their direction and all shout “woohowwwohh!”. After being seriously dizzy they get sent back to partners with a few trios. Soon after, a break for water and a snack and before you know it, campers choice is over and it's back to regularly scheduled programs.

July 25th, 2024
The trees dance about as if they are under water. I breathe in as they breathe out. Today is Tie dye Thursday, but a select set of counselors and a camper instead dressed for Twilight Thursday. Oversized baggy black Tees screened with a pale faced Edward Cullen holding a green eyed Bella Swan.


It has become a nightly ritual for me to inspect the orb weaver spider webs surroundings the entrance to my cabin by the lake (with the flashlight on my phone) before opening the door and settling in. If they're lucky, my light brings them a delicious meal. They always seem to be missing in the morning, sometimes their webs are gone too, I guess they reset every single night, tossing out a new line into the lake. The fishing spider however, I never saw her nest, just her 2.5 inch body right where my hand was supposed to go to open the door to head to morning flag (7:38 am) about 4 hours after the mouse had woken me up from gnawing on who knows what. I was starting to feel like I (the invasive species) was having my space invaded a little too close for comfort. I realized my boundaries had been crossed once they were inside my three walled plywood and fourth wall screened cabin- the fourth wall broken each morning by the sunlight rising over the lake directly into my corneas. The beginning of the summer was surrounded by the overwhelmingly loud bellows of the frogs, a sound that used to lull me to sleep in the summer as a child crawling into my mother's bed that faced the pond behind our house, a sound I couldn't hear from my room in the front. A month ago, I had to wear ear plugs because just as I would start to fall I would be ripped awake by the belching amphibian ribbits.

The next couple weeks was the evening passage of the baby geese and their protective parents toddling into the water just about 7 feet from my front steps, but the end of the month seems to be spider season for some reason. I wonder what creatures August holds.

July 28th, 2024
Med kits refilled. Sunday. Wasn't it just yesterday I was writing the diary about the joyful giggles of the first night of camp? Where did the week get away to? Oh yeah I remember, a trip to the fair, a box full of fashion, a day full of sun and a Sunday full of coffee. Two recruitment tables, photos from a parade with four troops and something called sprouts, a committed leader. It is funny to me sometimes how much this movement can offer so many from so far. I can't wait to call my mom. The kiln was off so I reset the breaker, brushed my teeth, felt shame for another night without flossing, I bought the picks, but they haven't made their way to the sink yet - it's becoming overrun with spiders. Something about this part of the summer. Each night now I ritually hold my flashlight and check the same corners; the newest invader was between me and my toothbrush, the Mudhut door dude has been there a handful of days now, the two ends of my little steps are full of orb weavers that look like potato bugs, the more I see them the less scary they are, mindless robots rebuilding their webs each night around 10:30 when it's cool and dark, gone with the sun each morning, mid day it's messy, and by night they're doing what they do. Mother Nature LOVeS her tall trees. Oooohhh CHiChi WaWa. Her Girl Scouts. Hey! Don't forget your bags.


July 29, 2024 The geese are flying now, one is a little behind, but she'll catch up fast. You can hear their wings all together as a flock slapping the lake. They don't need to use their little pathway through the cat tails, grass, and brush in front of my cabin like they were a month ago. There is no more poop on my lawn, the parted grasses will soon resettle.
A chipmunk looks right up at me in front of my chair, we make eye contact. She hops away in circles, their hopping is so cute, but kind of dumb, can they even walk? Hopping around in circles, what do they even eat? Bugs or seeds or what? Why does this chipmunk get to circle around and survive and I have to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders? How lucky I am to have such an opportunity.

August 7, 2024
11:23 pm a single bell charms from the church up the road. The spiders are no longer interesting. I sit on my bottom step, the spider sitting to the left of my head. A single frog croaks, an owl hoots way off in the distance. I no longer need the earbuds I did during June. A single cricket chirps, the lonely frog responds. The air is crisp and I can see my breath even though it's early August, The sky is sharp and clear. The stars are unbelievable and so casually perfect. The Milky Way does it's thing and the dipper is deeper than normal. I lay in my hammock, I am getting sad to leave this space. Tomorrow I'll have to pack it up. Crazy to think about.

During the live morning radio station in the dining hall, I read to the camp the program from on this day109 years ago. The 'Program of the Day' from Saturday, August 7, 1915. There was surprisingly a lot that we had in common with the generations who had come before us. Folk Dancing, Swimming, Leather, Bird Walk, Social Dancing, and Old English Country Dancing. This summer from the Mexican Salsa and Bachata to Australian line dancing, Hungarian dancing, Lindy Hop, and even a fair amount of Chappell Roan's, "HOT TO GO" we were surprisingly on par with our elders.

August 9, 2024 This is goodnight and not goodbye. Mm Mm Mmm M.

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