The first full week in August was the week both Philip and Chloe went away to overnight camp. They went to two separate camps a short drive from one another. The plan at each camp was a Sunday afternoon drop-off and a Saturday morning pick-up. We spent the bulk of drop-off Sunday packing and finished within an hour of needing to leave. We went through each packing list and I wouldn’t let them pack anything until I’d read it from the list and they held it up so I could check it off as I watched them pack the item in question. We had to go to the store to purchase flashlights, bug spray and single-use cameras. Amelia was conveniently on a girls-weekend-away and the entire parenting responsibility was on my shoulders. We filled the trunk and half the back seat of the car.
Chloe was dropped off first. Her camp had everyone arriving inside the same forty minute window, so we had to endure an ordeal parking and then walking her week’s worth of clothing and supplies to a central registration area. For whatever reason Chloe’s medical information was not on file. So I had to wait in line for ten minutes to deal with the camp authorities to ensure all her paperwork was properly filled out. Amelia who had all the information like the name and number of the primary care physician along with the kids’ medical cards was conveniently out of mobile phone range. But eventually the paperwork was complete to the camp’s satisfaction and we carried Chloe’s week’s worth of luggage to her cabin. We arrived in time to secure the last remaining top bunk. We stayed to put her stuff away, meet her counselor and her cabin-mates and say our good-byes. Normally, Chloe wants a long good-bye, like when I go on an overnight business trip or even spend the day somewhere other than the home office. But now the situation was reversed. She gave her brother a token hug and she gave me the shortest hug I’d received in a very long time before her left hand was on the small of my back guiding me to exit the cabin.
Philip’s camp had a later arrival time. We drove to the tiny downtown on the edge of the woods fifteen minutes from the camp’s entrance. We could tell we were running twenty minutes early. So we parked and walked into the town’s small grocery store and bought two ice creams on a stick. We walked through the little hamlet and mostly just talked. I told him a few stories from my time at overnight camp. We looked at some artwork in one set of windows and some home listings in another window. We managed to enjoy a relaxing twenty-five minutes before heading into the woods to drop him off at Camp.
We endured another parking and registration ordeal but nothing was missing this time. His counselor told us to drop Philip’s stuff off at the cabin and then meet on the same field where registration was taking place. I carried Philips large suitcase. He carried his duffle bag and sleeping bag. His cabin was far up a steep hill. We were the second to arrive in his cabin and Philip chose a top bunk. He chatted briefly with the kid who arrived before him and the two kids who arrived after him. I stood outside the cabin letting him connect with his new cabin-mates. Then he came out and told me he was ready to go back down. I began walking with him and expected to say good-bye at the field, but Philip then began to run ahead of me. I planned to say a quick good-bye to him on the field, but he wasn’t there when I arrived. He must have gone to some favorite spot he knew about from his previous summers at this camp. Either way, I couldn’t find him. The camp gave me a cup of not-for-campers lemonade and I drove off deprived of any more of a good-bye from Philip.
Were the good-byes I received a good thing? I got a brief hug from Chloe and the words “I’m ready to go back down now,” from Philip. Separating from their dad in favor of something fun was not a big deal to either of them. And as a parent who knows there are only so many years left, I know the shorter the good-byes, the more ready they are for adulthood.
Showing posts with label Overnight Camp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Overnight Camp. Show all posts
Monday, August 17, 2009
What a Good-Bye Says
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Passing Seasons
I tend to mark the passing of time with the start and end of something clearly defined: A school year, a college semester, a job, a travel vacation, a living situation or a kids' sports season. While experiencing those parts of life I have enjoyed the most, I would pause at times to concentrate deeply in an attempt to burn the memory in all its vividness upon my mind. I did this during overnight camp, college, and each of my coaching seasons. I also did it during the fall sports season of my eighth grade year.
Last weekend, both Philip and Chloe closed out their fall soccer seasons. On Saturday afternoon Philip’s team The Jokers was upstairs and Chloe’s team The Heartbreakers was downstairs at the same local pizzeria celebrating the end of a great season. With Philip being in the eighth grade, I have been thinking back to that time in my own life often. But when I reconnected with Ken online ten days ago, suddenly memories of my eighth grade fall football season came into greater focus.
Growing up with a single mom who was intimidated by most married parents, I spent my pre-adolescence uninvolved in kids’ sports. That ended abruptly when I went to a private school that required participation in after-school activities. I had a lot of catching up to do, but in the fall of eighth grade I heard words that meant more to me back at that time than perhaps anything.
“Great job, Scott! You’re our starting Left Tackle,” the coach pronounced with a shout during a practice before our first game. I’d just executed the fast pull behind the line and out in front of the ball carrying halfback on a quick pitch left to collide hard with the first defender to threaten our drive up field. With it, my coach was convinced he could count on me, and I wasn't going to let him down.
Starting was an honor that until then had eluded me. I was a below average athlete and it took significant effort both to gain my starting position and to keep it. Having my friend Ken as starting Right Tackle made the experience all the more enjoyable. I developed a deeper respect for each of my teammates and what it took for them to execute their various roles. That summer at my overnight sailing camp, I skippered a sailboat race for the first time and then went on to skipper in enough races to place in five. Stashed away somewhere, I still have my football trophies, five sailing pennants (a first, three seconds and a third) and virtually every scholastic award I ever earned.
For the kid who never plays, it is an achievement to play. For the kid who has never touched the ball, it is an achievement to touch the ball. For the kid who has never been on the first string, it is an achievement to make the first string. For the kid who has never scored, it is an achievement to score. And on it goes. Each new level of victory in life is enjoyed and celebrated. For nearly every kid, sports provide an especially good venue to experience victories worth remembering. But sports are not the only venue. Philip has a first place trophy from a chess tournament, and Chloe has DVDs from her ballet performances.
The 2008 fall soccer season is over. In a few weeks, I will begin coaching Chloe’s first season of basketball, and Philip will begin his fourth season of Lacrosse. My hope for the coming season is that Chloe and Philip will each enjoy at least one small victory, and that they and I will each enjoy at least one experience to mark the season with a great memory.
Last weekend, both Philip and Chloe closed out their fall soccer seasons. On Saturday afternoon Philip’s team The Jokers was upstairs and Chloe’s team The Heartbreakers was downstairs at the same local pizzeria celebrating the end of a great season. With Philip being in the eighth grade, I have been thinking back to that time in my own life often. But when I reconnected with Ken online ten days ago, suddenly memories of my eighth grade fall football season came into greater focus.
Growing up with a single mom who was intimidated by most married parents, I spent my pre-adolescence uninvolved in kids’ sports. That ended abruptly when I went to a private school that required participation in after-school activities. I had a lot of catching up to do, but in the fall of eighth grade I heard words that meant more to me back at that time than perhaps anything.
“Great job, Scott! You’re our starting Left Tackle,” the coach pronounced with a shout during a practice before our first game. I’d just executed the fast pull behind the line and out in front of the ball carrying halfback on a quick pitch left to collide hard with the first defender to threaten our drive up field. With it, my coach was convinced he could count on me, and I wasn't going to let him down.
Starting was an honor that until then had eluded me. I was a below average athlete and it took significant effort both to gain my starting position and to keep it. Having my friend Ken as starting Right Tackle made the experience all the more enjoyable. I developed a deeper respect for each of my teammates and what it took for them to execute their various roles. That summer at my overnight sailing camp, I skippered a sailboat race for the first time and then went on to skipper in enough races to place in five. Stashed away somewhere, I still have my football trophies, five sailing pennants (a first, three seconds and a third) and virtually every scholastic award I ever earned.
For the kid who never plays, it is an achievement to play. For the kid who has never touched the ball, it is an achievement to touch the ball. For the kid who has never been on the first string, it is an achievement to make the first string. For the kid who has never scored, it is an achievement to score. And on it goes. Each new level of victory in life is enjoyed and celebrated. For nearly every kid, sports provide an especially good venue to experience victories worth remembering. But sports are not the only venue. Philip has a first place trophy from a chess tournament, and Chloe has DVDs from her ballet performances.
The 2008 fall soccer season is over. In a few weeks, I will begin coaching Chloe’s first season of basketball, and Philip will begin his fourth season of Lacrosse. My hope for the coming season is that Chloe and Philip will each enjoy at least one small victory, and that they and I will each enjoy at least one experience to mark the season with a great memory.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
The Apprentice Helmsman’s Test
As a young teen I had the privilege of attending an overnight sailing camp. The camp had all the trappings of traditional summer camp: swimming, archery, tennis, wood shop, pottery, a trampoline, etc. But the main focus of the camp was sailing.
Over the years the camp had developed a sophisticated sailing program that even included training kids (who got to that level) how to steer a sailboat without a rudder. The training system was broken up into two sections: core skills and advanced skills.
To successfully complete the first of the five levels within the advanced skills section, one had to pass what was called The Apprentice Helmsman’s Test (AHT). The AHT was unlike any test I’d ever taken before because it was not a skills test. Anyone taking the AHT had already firmly proven his or her command of the skills required to pass the AHT by completing the core skills program. Instead, the AHT was a character test. Briefly, the AHT required the initiate to single-handedly sail a small two-sailed (main & jib) craft in heavy winds—defined by the frequent white caps that appear on the top of waves at wind speeds of 17 knots or more. The goal was for the initiate to demonstrate his or her confidence and presence of mind to execute the core skills alone and in adverse conditions.
My moment arrived late one July evening in 1980 and it was spiced up with particularly gusty, shifting winds. The test was an adventure. And when I had completed all the maneuvers required of me, the senior counselor and I took the opportunity to spend another fifteen minutes enjoying the thrill of an upwind ride in heavy weather. I arrived after lights out to a cabin full of my peers eager to hear me recount the evening’s exploits.
But the best moment of all came at breakfast. Before dismissal from breakfast, the campers were given the day’s announcements. The final announcement came from the senior sailing counselor. “Last night I took Scott Askins out for his Apprentice Helmsman’s Test and … He passed!” The dining hall erupted with cheers and applause. It was one of the most dignifying moments of my life.
Fast forward almost exactly twenty-eight years. My son was called back for the final try-out round for the Santa Carla Division III Soccer team for his age group. But on the day of the final try-out the left side of my son’s neck had seized up into a painful cramp. Having never made it onto a Division III team before, my son quickly became demoralized over his situation thinking he had no chance to make the team. I arrived home early to take him to the try-out and found him in his demoralized state.
I sat down across the table from my son and told him to look me in the eye. “OK Philip, here’s the deal. Coach Ralph is an extremely experienced soccer coach. He knows these things happen to kids from time to time. Coach Ralph has already seen your skill level and was satisfied with what he saw to bring you back for the final round. What he hasn’t seen is how you handle situations like the one you are in now.
“For you, today’s test is not going to be a skills test. It is going to be a character test. Do you know what I mean by a character test?” He said he didn’t. And that gave me the opportunity to tell him my story of the Apprentice Helmsman’s Test. That was enough to calm Philip down and allow him to plan out how he would conduct himself during the tryout.
In my humble father’s opinion Philip conducted himself brilliantly. We met Coach Ralph before the try-out and explained Philip’s situation. Philip joined the other candidates for the warm-up and stretches. Otherwise, he stood by the coach and thoughtfully watched the other candidates perform the various drills. We stayed until the final try-out drill was complete.
Later that week, the team parent called to inform us that Coach Ralph had not selected Philip for the team. Obviously, Philip was disappointed. I was a little disappointed too. But as far as I was concerned, Philip had accomplished something greater than getting onto a Division III soccer team. He had passed my Apprentice Helmsman’s Test.
Over the years the camp had developed a sophisticated sailing program that even included training kids (who got to that level) how to steer a sailboat without a rudder. The training system was broken up into two sections: core skills and advanced skills.
To successfully complete the first of the five levels within the advanced skills section, one had to pass what was called The Apprentice Helmsman’s Test (AHT). The AHT was unlike any test I’d ever taken before because it was not a skills test. Anyone taking the AHT had already firmly proven his or her command of the skills required to pass the AHT by completing the core skills program. Instead, the AHT was a character test. Briefly, the AHT required the initiate to single-handedly sail a small two-sailed (main & jib) craft in heavy winds—defined by the frequent white caps that appear on the top of waves at wind speeds of 17 knots or more. The goal was for the initiate to demonstrate his or her confidence and presence of mind to execute the core skills alone and in adverse conditions.
My moment arrived late one July evening in 1980 and it was spiced up with particularly gusty, shifting winds. The test was an adventure. And when I had completed all the maneuvers required of me, the senior counselor and I took the opportunity to spend another fifteen minutes enjoying the thrill of an upwind ride in heavy weather. I arrived after lights out to a cabin full of my peers eager to hear me recount the evening’s exploits.
But the best moment of all came at breakfast. Before dismissal from breakfast, the campers were given the day’s announcements. The final announcement came from the senior sailing counselor. “Last night I took Scott Askins out for his Apprentice Helmsman’s Test and … He passed!” The dining hall erupted with cheers and applause. It was one of the most dignifying moments of my life.
Fast forward almost exactly twenty-eight years. My son was called back for the final try-out round for the Santa Carla Division III Soccer team for his age group. But on the day of the final try-out the left side of my son’s neck had seized up into a painful cramp. Having never made it onto a Division III team before, my son quickly became demoralized over his situation thinking he had no chance to make the team. I arrived home early to take him to the try-out and found him in his demoralized state.
I sat down across the table from my son and told him to look me in the eye. “OK Philip, here’s the deal. Coach Ralph is an extremely experienced soccer coach. He knows these things happen to kids from time to time. Coach Ralph has already seen your skill level and was satisfied with what he saw to bring you back for the final round. What he hasn’t seen is how you handle situations like the one you are in now.
“For you, today’s test is not going to be a skills test. It is going to be a character test. Do you know what I mean by a character test?” He said he didn’t. And that gave me the opportunity to tell him my story of the Apprentice Helmsman’s Test. That was enough to calm Philip down and allow him to plan out how he would conduct himself during the tryout.
In my humble father’s opinion Philip conducted himself brilliantly. We met Coach Ralph before the try-out and explained Philip’s situation. Philip joined the other candidates for the warm-up and stretches. Otherwise, he stood by the coach and thoughtfully watched the other candidates perform the various drills. We stayed until the final try-out drill was complete.
Later that week, the team parent called to inform us that Coach Ralph had not selected Philip for the team. Obviously, Philip was disappointed. I was a little disappointed too. But as far as I was concerned, Philip had accomplished something greater than getting onto a Division III soccer team. He had passed my Apprentice Helmsman’s Test.
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