My daughter, Maddie, loves nature. She loves animals and bugs and wildlife. And though I consider my lush, chemically treated grass patch in the back yard a nature retreat of sorts, I thought that something a little more authentic would be right up my daughter’s alley. When I heard about the camp opportunities through the Girl Scouts of DuPage County, I decided day camp would be a perfect place for us girls to bond, share a s’more, roast weenies on a stick and sing all those memorable camp songs without having to “rough it . . . too much.
But I was wrong.
Not about the bonding but about the rough part. This is no cushy camp experience. There are no televisions, few flush toilets and even fewer buildings. There is mud and poison ivy and some serious mosquitoes (my daughter tallied 20 bites on her legs alone one afternoon). There are outhouses and bugs, deer and rocks, babbling streams and winding paths that twist around giant trees in an old oak forest and through fields of wildflowers visited by more than 2,000 girls each summer.
As a volunteer, the bus would pick me and my daughter up each morning at our elementary school by 8:30 a.m. and we’d head to Camp Greene Wood, a Girl Scout camp tucked away from the centrally air-conditioned subdivisions and nestled on 127 acres of Naperville’s untamed wilderness. We wouldn’t return to civilization until 3:30 each afternoon.
Yes, this was definitely not your ordinary volunteer job–a far cry from baking a dozen cookies for the school bake sale. This was more than 35 hours, a full-time position for the week if you include the bus ride home. And though I’ve been known to volunteer for many dirty jobs, few left my fingernails as filthy or my clothes as stained as this one.
Monday
After a dry spell, the forecast is calling for a week of rain, possibly thundershowers . . . figures. There are more than 250 campers here this week, and I share 20 with my friend Lynn, whose daughter also is in our group. I probably don’t feel that much different from my own 6-year-old today: unsure of what comes next, afraid of looking uncampy, too campy or frumpy. We start each day with a flag ceremony at the Pavilion, where we must remove our hats and bandanas (a bad-hair day now has an impressive new standard).
After that there’s an introduction of the camp staff, all with camp names such as Pepsi, Motormouth, Goldilocks and Yogi. Sounds silly at first, then I realize how easy it is to remember them.
We find our camp, hang a hobo line (clothes line between two trees) and cinch our lunches on it with a clothespin, safe out of the reach of wild animals. (Is this really necessary? If it is, I’m nervous.)
We play a few ice-breaking games, trying to remember the names of 20 2nd and 3rd graders. For security reasons, campers must use their real names; however, I can’t help assigning them camp names in my head as their personalities become evident. There’s Turtle, for instance, who always trails behind because she is weighed down by all the camp supplies she is carrying. The Babbling Brook hasn’t stopped talking since she got off the bus; she seems to know everything about camp because her sister went to camp last year.
There’s Vine, who has been clinging to me ever since we arrived, and Geyser, an excited but nervous 7-year-old who has dropped her water bottle in the dirt and whose quivering lip tells me she may spout tears at any time.
Heading to the Pavilion, we begin planning our adventures by signing up for programs we’ll attend throughout the week. There’s nature, art, tie dye, lanyard weaving, songs and games. By the time we’ve scheduled the week’s events, everyone is complaining about being hungry, so we hike back to our camp and see how well our hobo line has been working, Vine grabbing for my hand along the way.
So far, no wild animals. And our Brownies are starving, so we all enjoy a quiet lunch in the woods.
Afterward, we get a tarp to set up for our camp this week because we’re anticipating some “peanut butter” (camp word for rain, which is considered a nasty, four-letter word). We spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning up our campsite before heading down to the end-of-the-day events.
So far, I can tell Maddie is having a great time, and she barely notices when I leave the group to attend the leader meeting, where Lynn and I are forced to pick camp names. She picks Waterfall as her camp handle.
I should spend a few minutes thinking over a good camp name, perhaps something with a Native American theme such as Soaring Eagle or Dancing Wolf. Instead, I just blurt out the first thing that comes into my mind and hand in our sheet with a name the whole camp will now know me by: Acorn. What am I, nuts?
Tuesday
We’re all feeling like seasoned campers today. After our morning ceremony, we head to the craft cabin where we make a cute little craft that looks easy but predictably isn’t. Glue, wooden sticks and wiggle-eyes fly, until we have 20 little painted signs crawling with bugs that we’ll finish up later to read, “Don’t Bug Me.” As we head out, the fire bell is ringing! An all-camp fire drill! So we head to the meadow to be counted, then back to our campsite for some water to douse our own flames . . . it’s hot today.
We hear the rumble of thunder coming our way, and are feeling smart to have put our tarp up, until we try to fit 20 girls and two leaders underneath. Luckily, the troop at the campsite next to us is out and about, so we borrow some room under their tarp and weather the storm while we eat our lunch. It is a pretty loud storm, with crashing thunder and a heavy downpour.
Most of the girls “eeek” with giggles and nervous excitement, except for Geyser, who predictably has sprung tears, and another one I named Rabbit, who is burrowing her head in my shoulder and sobbing for home. Instead, we take her to Apikisic, where the nurse and day-camp staff reside. Its cozy log cabin walls and real roof are a great place to wait out the storm. When it stops raining, we head down to the Pavilion for some freeze pops, stopping along the route to pick up Rabbit.
We make some beaded bracelets under the dry haven of the Pavilion and pick up the parachute we’ve requisitioned for the afternoon. Then we head toward the meadow and play parachute games for more than an hour.
The Babbling Brook, of course, has played all the games before, because her sister went to camp last year, and helps explain the rules to the group as Vine nudges her way into a spot next to me. On our way back, one of the girls spots a deer, who dashes back toward the woods but not out of sight. It was a nice highlight, and as Maddie struggles to see the deer, I help lift her up to catch a glimpse.
Wednesday
Today we tie-dye: T-shirts, pillowcases, socks and, unintentionally, my arm, which is accidentally sprayed by an enthusiastic camper. Fortunately, blue is my favorite color.
It was another rainy day, but we’re prepared. As thunder rumbles overhead, the girls take their places and their lunch under our tarp and munch through the passing storm. Rabbit is doing much better this time and tells me she’s pretending the loud booming thunder is just fireworks.
During a break in the weather, we hike down to the Pavilion and do crafts while another windy downpour hits overhead. We work on weaving lanyards, which is not an easy skill to master. Maddie’s frustration finally turns to tears when she can’t make the weaving pattern, probably complicated by the fact that she now refuses to use the outhouses and holds it all day. These are the moments I’m glad I’m here.
Thursday
They warned us that cooking with Brownies would take all day. And they were right. We collect our food and supplies at 10, start a fire by 10:30 and don’t have things cleaned up until after 1:15. We begin with a fruit salad that everyone helps cut and follow it with hot dogs and macaroni and cheese and, of course, s’mores.
During our preparations, Wildflower, a beautiful girl who seemed to blossom all week even amid the heat and bugs, suddenly becomes itchy. After a quick trip to the nurse and a possible poison ivy diagnosis, we all avoid picking firewood up along the trail behind our campsite, as The Babbling Brook educates us all on the symptoms and identification of poison ivy, because as we all know, her sister went to camp last year.
Aside from a few burnt marshmallows, our meal is a success, and there is plenty to go around. I have to cut off one little 8-year-old I named The Bottomless Pit when she asks for her fifth s’more.
I’ve been too busy stacking graham crackers and spearing marshmallows to roast a weenie with my own daughter, but one look at Maddie’s ketchup-stained shirt and marshmallow-smeared face tells me she has eaten well this afternoon.
Friday
It’s our last day and definitely the hottest. We have a loose schedule and hope to fill some time with a hike. Waterfall instructs the girls to look for signs of living things. I know that this is Maddie’s favorite part, and she’s busy looking for spider webs and insect habitats. But surprisingly, all the girls become engrossed on our hike, pointing out their discoveries of squirrels, wildflowers, looking for footprints and snakes. Of course, Turtle brings up the rear and Vine wraps her arm around mine through half of our walk.
After our hike, we have lunch, break down our campsite and head to the all-camp games. It’s a scorcher, so the water games are the biggest hit–even I get drenched in the process. And after a closing ceremony, we gather our things and head off toward the buses for the last time.
But our excitement for the day is not over. Maddie runs toward me with a mouth full of blood. Her bottom tooth has finally fallen out, and her face is bright with anxiety and excitement as I stuff a bandana in her mouth and watch her proudly show her new bloody gap to her fellow campers. As she drops her tiny tooth in the gravel, I’m glad I’m there to help her find it and carry it safely home.
After five days, hundreds of mosquito bites, two bottles of bug spray, three thunderstorms, one tie-dyed arm and a close brush with some poison ivy, it was over.
I thought I would spend the week watching my little girl grow and learn and explore her way through a new experience. Instead, I think she did most of the watching, as I used the outhouses, sat in the mud, led the songs and consoled, hugged, managed and laughed with the other 19 little girls who shared our experience.
Looking ahead
So what about next year?
I asked myself that question several times every day during camp, and the answer depended on the size of the clouds and the mosquitoes. But now, with the bugs and the bad weather behind me and with a new appreciation for nature–and flush toilets–I know what a rich experience camp can be.
I felt good about giving a week to my daughter and other people’s daughters and was overwelmed by how much I learned. By the end of the week, I was just learning the words to the songs, finding my way around the dirt paths and getting the hang of wearing my bandana the “cool” way.
So the answer to the question is no–I won’t return next year to lead another group of Brownies through their basic camp experience. Instead, I’ll take on a new challenge and try working with some of the older girls or explore my interest in art as an all-camp craft leader.
I’ll stretch myself just a little farther, try something new and encourage my own little Brownie to do the same.
MADDIE’S JOURNAL
‘Do not say rain . . . we say peanut butter. it peanut butterd.’
Sometimes, the simple reflections of a 6-year-old speak louder than the paragraphs of an adult. I could have written pages more describing the experiences, the incidents and all the memorable events that happened during my week at Girl Scout day camp with my daughter, Maddie, and 250 other campers. Instead, here are Maddie’s journal entries for the week.
— S.M.C.
Monday: We set up a tarp. We did water balloons. I am tired.
Tuesday: It started to rain. Do not say rain because in Girl Scouts we say “peanut butter. . . . It peanut buttered.
Wednesday: We did tie dye. We made yarn dolls. It peanut buttered.
Thursday: We cooked on a fire. I had 4 marshmallows. Yum.
Friday: Friday is the end of Girl Scouts. Boy, did I have a good week.
Camp becomes a learning adventure
– Always choose the outhouse under the biggest tree with the most shade.
– Hot weenies burnt on the outside, dropped in the ashes and wiped clean on your shirt taste delicious, especially if you haven’t eaten since breakfast.
– The leading cause of migraine headaches at camp comes from listening to 20 girls chanting camp songs all day.
– The leading cause of insanity at camp comes from listening to 20 girls chanting camp songs all day.
– Mosquitoes bite through clothes.
– No matter how many pairs of scissors you nab from the craft cabin, only one pair will actually be sharp enough to cut something.
– In the woods, red chipped nail polish will always be mistaken for blood.
– Camp is a nice place to visit, but there are reasons for the development of central air and flush toilets.
— Sharon Miller Cindrich
