Smith Camp Sage and Sand

1. Auflage 2011
ISBN: 978-1-61842-294-1
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 300 Seiten

It's not so easy to be a volunteer at a Christian boy's camp in Indian country. Have you ever done something outrageous and totally unplanned? Mel Van Alan did and it changed his life. From a New York City public relations writer to a volunteer at a boy's camp in Indian country, Mel learns more about relating to others in a mere few weeks than he ever did in 34 years.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Smith, Richard C.

Leseproben

Chapter One

I was tuning between radio stations looking for my classical favorite when I realized that I had somehow strayed off FM and was being assaulted by a heavy dose of AM commercials. The announcer was just saying, “Yes, you can turn in your old car in any condition and take a tax deduction on the vehicle. Your used automobile donation will aid the ongoing work of Camps with Kids summertime programs throughout America.”

I thought how I certainly could use a hefty tax deduction on my rusty 1994 Volvo. Besides, I would hardly miss it since I rarely drove around where I lived and worked in Manhattan. I wrote down the 800 number and was about ready to get back to the FM dial when the announcer made one last appeal.

“Not only do we need your old car, but we need you! Camps with Kids has many openings for volunteer workers willing to share their own personal time and talents with eager boys and girls of all ages. This is your opportunity to change even one life for a lifetime! We are looking for craft instructors, riding instructors, gym teachers, personal counselors, and people who just want to be a big brother or sister. The need is so very, very great. Please call us today.”

The commercial struck a chord deep within me. Here I was, a single thirty-four-year-old whose life was more than a third of the way over. I was making an okay living as a public relations freelancer, but it seemed a darn waste not to share some of the tricks of my craft as a writing instructor like the announcer said. If I could change just one little person’s life, I would love to do it.

My resolve mushroomed faster than I could contain it. I ran to get a clean pad of paper in front of me and then called the 800 number before I changed my mind. While the phone rang my heart started to race as I tried to think what I would say. Before I was even mentally ready, a friendly person was saying, “ENDCO. How can I help you?”

I cleared my throat; “I’m looking at the possibility of helping at Camps with Kids this summer. Your radio commercial sort of got to me and I thought maybe I could be of assistance to some of your young people.” I started to say how the announcer had made me think of how my life was a third over, but a new connection was already ringing in my ear.

A very sweet female voice – perfect for soothing any doubt I’d had in making the call – identified herself as Miss Abrams. When I gave my name, Melvin Van Alan, and a quick resume’ of myself, she sounded very pleased. Her main thrust was to encourage me to come in for an interview as soon as possible. “The summer is already upon us and we are eager to fill several important positions,” she said. So, we made an appointment for the very next day.

The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. By golly, I owed it to myself to take some time off. I hadn’t bothered to slow the treadmill I’d been on for I don’t know how long – three, maybe four years. The last time I could remember was when a cousin was getting married in Stony Brook, out on Long Island. It was quite a trip, so it made sense to stay over. And when I got there, it was so beautiful that I just hung out for three days. I even got to go sailing.

The idea of camping in the woods seemed equally exhilarating. The smell of pine after a brief rain, smoke wafting over from the cookhouse. Maybe even songs by the fire after dark. I definitely felt the need for a break in my relentless schedule, and this assignment could undoubtedly renew me in body and mind.

A very attractive Miss Abrams met me in her office where the walls were adorned with large photos of children from every race and color obviously enjoying the great outdoors. I didn’t see any woodland classrooms, but I expected that showing indoor activities was perhaps less marketable. She explained that Camps with Kids was a division of the ENDCO Corporation. The company founder and president, General Robert Enders, had originally set it up to give New York children from the ghettos the advantage of a summer away in the Catskills. The program had taken off and now there were some 35 camps scattered across the U.S.

“Let’s get some background on you,” she said. “We sat on canvas camp stools at a peeled-log table as she pulled out a questionnaire. “This will help me find just where you will be the most help to us.” She took me through several areas in which I identified myself, and as we went, she seemed a little hesitant.

“Your prep school background and handball activity could be of some use I suppose, but have you had any one-on-one experience with youngsters about twelve years of age, for instance?”

I couldn’t come up with many offhand, until I remembered how I had roughhoused with my two nephews one afternoon up at the lake. “The kids I supervised last summer thought I was pretty terrific,” I said. “They still talk about the fun we had and beg me to come again this year.”

That helped a little, I think. But it was the very mention of my seven years with the Upper Bronx Saddle Club that brightened her up the most. As a freelancer I had written many stories about the club. Unfortunately I was not a member, but I had watched many a blue-ribbon dressage program from the stands.

I began to feel the passion Miss Abrams had in inspiring possible volunteers by her enthusiasm and breathless rush in describing the successes of Camps with Kids. In particular she told me that their newest camp was situated in southwestern Colorado. Here among the various native Indians of the region, low-income boys were being given the chance to get away from an environment of poverty and learn basic industrial skills that could give them a chance for a better life. She encouraged me to visualize such a place and think of myself becoming one of their key volunteers.

I have to admit that I am completely awed by the beauty of the Colorado Rocky Mountains. I still keep last year’s Gunner’s Gin calendar hanging over the phone. Month after month I get to review again the lovely mountain streams pouring down rock formations and valleys of wild flowers. All year it had made me want to throw caution to the winds and invest in a one-way ticket to pursue writing my first novel from a little cabin in the woods.

I left Miss Abrams’ rustic office proud that I might inspire even a few young American Indians with some sound writing techniques. She promised to call immediately following a required background check.

Miss Abrams called two days later with the exciting news that I had been accepted into the Camps with Kids volunteer ranks for the full summer. By then I had built up an eager anticipation about going. I would need to leave for Colorado the following Tuesday, giving me only six days to wind up my client affairs and update my will. I asked her if I would be required to have immunization shots and she assured me that this wasn’t really necessary, although I might want to take some bottled water to start me out until I could buy some locally.

I wasn’t much of a traveler, having driven only as far as Lake Erie, and never out of New York State. Considering the extreme distance to Colorado, I worried about my unreliable Volvo, but on the other hand I couldn’t be without my own transportation. I asked Miss Abrams what clothing and gear I should take, and she asked if I had jeans and cowboy boots. It was fortunate that I had purchased both for a recent Western Night at the Saddle Club, but the high-heeled boots tended to give me a headache after walking in them for any length of time.

Still, I was thrilled to feel accepted by such a large corporation through whose connections I might use in helping to pitch future freelance articles on Colorado. I thanked Miss Abrams for being so kind, and she promised to forward everything I would need to know in an overnight packet. What really added to the call was her comment that she hoped to get to know me better and not forget to come by and see her when I returned to New York.

In the meantime, I went through all of my text books and notes I had taken at Columbia University Journalism school and tried to condense the most important portions for a summer’s curriculum. I got somewhat bogged down as I enjoyed reviewing the material so much that I wished now I had taken time to reread them since I graduated. I made a note to get back to a more in-depth study when I returned in the fall.

Six days later, I was packed and ready for my upcoming summer adventure. I stowed my computer and printer, plenty of paper and a good supply of discs in the backseat of the car. I wanted to be able to print out homework assignments as I went. I regretted that I didn’t have a laptop, as my 17” monitor was pretty heavy and took up crucial space. I was going to need a good-sized little cabin with plenty of electric outlets for myself and all my gear.

I packed every piece of underwear from my drawer and all my white shirts just in case I sweat too much while on duty. I did have a couple of poplin blue shirts that I thought would look good with my one pair of jeans. I also had bought some heavy socks for my boots, but most of the time I would plan to wear my usual calf-length stockings and polished loafers.

I had no family to say goodbye to. Puffy, my twelve-year-old tabby went permanently to the lady one floor below to add to her own menagerie of three cats. I suddenly felt very strange with the thought of leaving the city, but then I recalled some pretty sage words from my late maiden aunt that made sense now. She said, “Remember Melvin, if you don’t stick your big toe in the water, you’ll never learn how to swim.”

So, I turned my face to...