Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?!

Camp has lost its meaning as a word, not its history.

When I look at pictures or call back memories of the last "generation" of camp people (mainly Blacklisters), I see camp as an adjective. Qualities. A certain way of relating to the world, and all the phrases and stories and senses of humor that defined this place. Camp in the past years seems rich and everlasting, while this season it seems alarmingly expendable and shaky.

People are simply less passionate about camp. I don't see many of this year's new counselor crop dedicating themselves to this place for years and years. I don't see many lifelong friendships being founded, or any future directors, or any budding romances - or even any guaranteed re-hires.

We're working at camp this year, but we aren't "it" at all. Camp as a place remains, but CAMP struggles to resurface. The staff this year don't seem to have bonded as much and a surprising number aren't doing their jobs. The numerous new partnerships, while obviously positive and necessary, are beginning to take over.

I fear a rental camp with seasonal, short-lived staff.

Recently, I was talking with a colleague about the future of camp. "Whatever happens next summer," he said, "I know that camp will always be okay."

I don't want camp to be an okay place. It must be exceptional. Call me immature or resistant to change, but we shouldn't settle for anything less. I have a right to be biased towards past years of camp because they were exactly what they should have been. Camp needs to come back as an adjective and stay for a long time.

I need some seasoned veteren to please assure me that this is completely typical "second summer blues" and that everything will work out in the end.