It was a beautiful sunshine-filled day at camp, no breeze filling the air, and not a cloud in sight of the light blue skies. I was delighted as I had an activity block off and decided a walk around the winding paths of camp would be my choice to fill my time. However, it was my ears that became heavenly pleased that late morning.
As I walked up the wood chips from Swim Point I heard the crashing of kayaks against one another, as they were scrapped across the sand and brought into the chilly-blue lake water. Boys were shouting to their buddies to, “wait-up!” as they clambered onto paddle-boards and took off to brave the waves that the boat would be sure to have for them to ride.
Coming upon the MOP next, a crowd of boys were speaking intensely, as they practiced scenes for this week’s play. They laughed when they forget a line or misplaced a word, but quickly got back on track, with help from this week’s directors, as they knew there was a lot of memorization and character building to be done before Saturday evening.
Crossing mid-campus a cub baseball game was just getting underway to my left. Metal bat against rubber balls could be loudly heard ringing across campus, as cleats raced and slid around the dirt lined path to the new base. Young voices shouted at one another to, “keep on running!” as the ball in play soared through the air before landing softly within the padded glove of an outstretched arm that would whip it back through the air to home plate.
Coming up the steps of Witherbee, porch sitters fiddled on guitars, and laughed at ideas they passed around to one another across Adirondack chairs. The sounds of Twenty One Pilots, “Stressed Out,” clearly rang out from the music room, as instrumentalists listened to the lyrics being ejected from their instructors, remembering the notes they were not hitting, and bettering them for the next chorus run through.
Looking ahead of me I heard the soft bounces of basketballs before I even could see the courts. Boys in layup lines took a few quick pounding steps up the paint, shot, and either a swish of the net rang out or a hard clang off the back board sounded and a grunt followed, as sneakers raced to get back in line and have another go. Whistles from the game next to this scene sounded as refs shouted out, “double dribble” or “point!”
Making my way through the center of campus the sounds came from all angles. The clanging of pots and pans from Beckman’s lunch preparation, the excited clapping of hike hut folks as they practiced fire building and one happened to spring to life, the soft sounds of the radio and phones ringing from the office, the revving of engines outside the maintenance shed, and even the whoosh of art supply tools from Brodie. Camp was a buzz with midday activities and everybody was in the zone of what tasks they needed to accomplish in the next hour and a half.
I sat down on the office bench, as a pair of boys rushed past me humming a song from the past nights council ring camp fire and shouting out a crisp “YOHA” when the song had come to an end. I realized I could even hear the whistles, bounces, and excited chatter from games off in the distant fields and courts, as I sat under the hot sun. What others would hear as disruptive noises, I heard as pleasure to my ears that brought a smile to my face, it was just another busy day at “the office.”
By: #22835 Alexa Mitchell
Photos: #15877 Brendan Loughman & #20764 Endy Perry