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A Walk Around Camp Keystone

There were a handful of cars in the dirt parking lot. I pulled in next to a VW Bug, rolled my windows up, and shut off the engine. I think there was always a VW Bug in the parking lot, though it was never the same one. I think it’s the preferred mode of transportation for camp counselors. This one no doubt belonged to a female. There was lots of stuff hanging from the review mirror and a scrunchy around the stick shift. Ted’s car wasn’t there yet. I was hoping we could walk around together for a while. I sat in my car for a few minutes and just looked around.

To my right was the actual horse ring we used to ride in. It was a lot smaller than it used to be, but just as run down. Still, it served it’s purpose. My favorite horse was a little black pony that was super fast. I used to just let her run all around that ring, then wash her down and groom her. Directly in front of me was the old swing set. The metal pools secured deep in the ground. It has survived multiple hurricanes and hasn’t budged an inch. I once got a bloody nose racing another kid for the last swing and spent many nights as a kid trying to see just how high we could actually go and try to prove the myth that if you swing all the way around you will indeed turn your self inside out. I am still right side out. I never made it all the way around.

Past the swing set was a playground, sports shed, and a giant oak tree that I assumed was their since Adam and Eve were in the garden. But, I found out later that the land where camp is used to be cow pasture and the original owner planted all the trees. So, it was about sixty years old, but still, to me, it had been there for forever. To the right of the oak tree was the office, flag circle and house that the owners used to live in. I always wanted to live in that house, to be right out in the middle of everything all the time. I still wonder what it’s like out here during winter. It must have been an odd feeling to live out at camp when there were no kids there. I couldn’t even imagine how that would be.

I got out of my car just as some campers started making their way, in small packs, to the flag circle and began mingling amongst each other. I few of them looked my way, but they probably assumed I was one of the day campers’ parents there to pick my kid up. It was a strange feeling not knowing the group of kids standing there, and even stranger that they didn’t know me. I walked past them to the office and walked in as if I owned the place. It looked practically the same. The counselors mail boxes were still there, the old blue cushion still sat on the bench lining the wall. Even the little bronze looking bell that resembled an apple that was used to signal the change of classes still sat next to the PA system that was, no doubt, the same. Straight ahead of me, through a set of open wooden doors was Connie, sitting at her desk writing something. As the screen door slammed shut behind me she looked up, probably expecting to see a camper.

“No way!” she exclaimed.

“Yes way.”

“It cannot be.”

“It is Connie, it’s me.”

“Well God in Heaven, I never though I would see you again.” She said as she came around the desk to give me a hug. We embraced. She was thinner than I recall and her body felt brittle. She was old when I was a camper; even older when I was a counselor. Now…now she was just…really old.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Well, still getting along, but not as fast as I used to…still getting along.”

“That’s great Connie, that’s really great.” I didn’t know what to say. I looked down as I spoke, searching for words, but all I could find were Connie’s Camp Keystone socks. No doubt, they were the same socks she wore when I was a kid. “I talked to Ted last week. He told me about camp. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“Having you here helps…Little Buddy.” she said as a grin came across her face. I don’t think she thought I would remember the name. I laughed with her.

“If you don’t mind Connie, I was going to walk around a little bit while it was still light out. Is that OK?”

“Absolutely, but first, you have to join us for flag lowering.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

We walked back through the screen door and again it slammed behind us. The kids were pretty much gathered and almost formed into a semi-circle when they saw Connie. As always, that signaled it was time for flag. They quickly straightened the line around the flag. I was facing the whole camp now, boys on the left, girls on the right. It was almost sad that this was all of camp. There were maybe thirty kids where there used to be one hundred and thirty. These kids barely made it around the flag circle. We used to stretch all the way out to the riding ring. Flag lowering was a special time. On the first day of camp, at the first flag lowering was where everyone got to see each other for the first time. When I was a kid I was just trying to figure out what the heck was going on. When I got older, I was checking out the girls across from me. Since we stood in cabin order, youngest to oldest, the girls standing straight across from you were the girls who were your age. So, we all played the game of trying to look without looking. I had never seen so many eyes darting around trying to check each other out without actually making eye contact. During the two week sessions of camp, flag lowering was more about getting information…what was happening after dinner, what counselors were covering what areas during free time, what the evening activity was, which counselors weren’t going to go out that night because they had to stay back and watch boy's camp, and girl's camp. Of course, Ted and I rarely heard what was going on, we were usually cutting up in the back and making plans of our own for that night.

1

The American Dream

Some of the comments I have been getting regarding my novel have made me question just what the American Dream is.

I think that I have always pictured the traditional American Dream...the house with a white picket fence, and wife and mother, husband and father, two kids, and some kind of pet. It's the picture I think most people carry in their heads. It's the dream that has brought hundreds of thousands of people to this country...if not millions.

But what is the America Dream now? What are we all working so hard towards? How many people out there actually stop to consider what their dreams are and take the time to figure out if they are working towards them?

I know I have a clear vision of my dream. I know exactly what I want to be doing with my life, who I want to be doing it with, and where I want to be doing it. I also know it is going to take time to get to that place with those people doing that thing. So...am I working towards that now? I don't know. I mean, I'm working. But, I don't know if it's towards my dreams or just to pay the mortgage (...another coat of paint for the white picket fence).

I know people...I have met people...I have seen people who are working towards their dreams every hour of every day. Their American Dream consumes them and they cannot go a minute without thinking about it. What makes their dream so important that they HAVE to reach it? Why aren't we all working that hard towards something?

There are also those people who have accomplished their initial American Dream only to realize a bigger dream along the way. And so they continue to work. Which brings up another question...can one ever actually achieve the American Dream? What would happen if you did? Would you just stop? Or, would you continue to work towards a new American Dream; a bigger American Dream?

What do you all think? What's the American Dream? What's YOUR American Dream?

An Experience Worthy of Life (Chapter 1 - excerpt)

I am living the American Dream, or rather, what the American Dream has become. It used to represent a certain amount a freedom, the ability to buy a house, a car, and still have enough left over to feed your family, go on vacation, and even put a little away for a rainy day. I am living the American Dream. I have a job, a mortgage, two cars, a wife, and two kids...in that order. How did I get this way? I did what I was supposed to do. I did what was expected of me. I worked hard through high school to get good grades and get into a decent college. Then I worked my butt off in college to get my degree in Business Management. Along the way, I met my wife, fell in love and got married just after we graduated. We immediately found jobs after college and bought a house. Within the course of two months I went from practically zero debt to being almost a quarter of a million dollars in the whole. But, that's what everyone else was doing...that's what was expected of us all. The funny thing is, when I was doing all this, when I got married, got a house, and started working a job, I was proud of it. I liked getting up everyday and going to sit in my cubicle. I loved the office chatter about what went on over the weekend. I marinated myself in the office culture. I bragged about how many hours a week I spent at the office. And though I loved my wife and would never be unfaithful towards her, I joined right in with "the guys" when they made comments about the women in the office. I had been force fed what society wanted me to be for so long that I actually thought I was successful, because in their eyes, and by their standards, I was. I am thirty-five now. I am living the American Dream, and I hate it.

An Experience Worthy of Life (synopsis)

By Robert Vanasco
Some men feel as though they are living out their dreams; taking each day and living it to the fullest. Most men look back on their life and wonder what happened to all that time. Where did their life go? What happened to all the goals and dreams they looked so forward to accomplishing in their lifetime.
This is the story of one man who has lost his way. He, like so many men before him, had big plans for life. He was going to go to school, meet the woman of his dreams, get married, have a great job, live a fantastic life, travel, see the world, and money would be no issue. There wasn’t going to be a care in his life. But somewhere along the line reality struck, college wasn’t what he thought it was, his wife wasn’t the same vibrant beautiful young woman she once was, his job became nothing more than a daily chore; one that he dreaded daily. And, his kids took whatever money he may have ever had to travel. It seemed his life was not worth living. Between his jerk boss, his demanding kids, bills, the mortgage, the debt, and what was once the American dream, owning a home, he saw no reason to go on with life. There was no reason to see what the next day would bring because today was just the same as yesterday. But there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t kill himself, that wouldn’t solve anything, and there was no money to do anything significant anyway. He was a slave to his life and he couldn’t break free on his own.
A phone call.
One phone call from an old friend brings a flood of happy memories and the opportunity to make a change in his life. Though he doesn’t know it, he is about to live out his childhood dreams, find life through loss and victory through struggle.
The lost sheep is brought back to the flock and finds success waiting for him at the end of a long, worthwhile, road.

35 Days

So, here I am, 35 days out from my frist child. I've been surprisingly calm, I guess I am always surprisingly calm no matter what the situation, but in this case, one would think you would be anxious or nervous or SOMETHING. I feel content with the whole thing thought. I mean, obviously I question my ability to provide for another human being, and wonder what kind of dad I will actually be...but for the most part, I am ready. I get waves of anxiousness that come over me...moments of wonderment where I realize that my whole life is about to change. I am 28 years old and now I have to grow up. It's a weird feeling, knowing that you HAVE to grow up; it's no longer a choice, but a necessity. I've never had to care for the life of anothr human being out of necessity. The wave reminds me that I am a man now, in some sense of the word, and that freaks me out a little bit. I can't sit on the couch and watch the World Cup without being aware that someone needs my attention. I can't take a whole day to my self to just be by my self...that opportunity is gone. But then the wave passes and I see he and me at the beach, playing catch, swimming in the surf, or building a sand castle. I see us going out to Camp Frontier, or Camp Keystone (hopefully) and hanging out with the other kids and everyone saying how cute he is and how much he looks like his parents and I smile and all those thousands of diapers I am going to change and all the times he is going to pee on me, or worse, don't seem so bad.


He's got great parents that's for sure. What do you say at a time like this? What do you do? We've read the books. We are taking the classes. We know our route to the hospital. We are planning on packing the bag at some point. Everything seems to be taken care of. But, really, what do you do when you walk through the door, and he is home for the first time, and you realize that it is all up to you now...no nurses, no doctors, no grandparents to take over for you...nothing...just you, your wife, and your son. I guess you figure it out. So many others have been in the same situation...people love to tell you their stories when they know you are about to go through all this. They love to tell about the time he peed on them, or the time he pooped and it got all over the wall and dad and everything, or the time he just wouldn't stop vomitting. I suppose it's all normal, but right now it seems so foreign.