Camp Robin Hood

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I Scream for Ice Cream

Jolly Island on Lake Winnepesaukee

There’s a hint of autumn creeping into the New Hampshire air. The nights are cool since showers passed through in the past few days. Sunshine and those amazing clouds filled the sky throughout the day. A brisk wind made it a good sailing day; it was about as choppy as it gets on Lake Winnipesaukee. We boated from the house in Moultonborough to just below Weir’s Beach where Doug found gas for 40-cents a gallon cheaper than the marina about a mile by boat from the house.

Let’s not forget the big event of the day. Adam is back with us after his summer as an archery counselor at Camp Robin Hood. About 9:20 this morning Adam texted Doug asking, “When are you going to pick me up?” Funny thing is, he never let us know when he’d be finished working on the last day of  camp. We picked him up around 11. He made his sad good byes to his friends at camp and was quiet in the car for about 10 miles. Then, he opened up about some of his camp activities including when the police questioned two car loads of counselors because they were hanging out in a parking lot figuring out where to eat dinner one night when they had off. All went well, though – no one got in any trouble. Adam’s looking forward to getting his pay check since he spent all of his spending money.

After a terrific family dinner with all of us at the table (steak, corn & salad), Doug, Steve, Sue, Adam and I went to play mini-golf, then had ice cream at Kellerhaus at Weir’s Beach. The place has been around forever. It’s a combination gift shop and ice cream buffet. We ordered our sundaes and “dressed” them at the sundae bar. Yum!

The moon is nearly full; the stars are bright – I’m still looking for that shooting star during this wonderful vacation.

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Return to the Lake

The thing about vacation is the journey getting there. Why does it seem that it takes forever to get to your destination? Looking back on the past 48 hours, I’m so happy to be back at Lake Winnepesaukee, but now I’d like the clock to just slow down.

The Moultonborough house here in New Hampshire is just the same as I remember. It’s nothing fancy, but offers spectacular views of our little piece of the lake and plenty of places for six adults to have whatever personal moments they’d like. Doug successfully launched the boat at Long Island for the short ride to the dock at the house. We were so incredibly happy to be getting her Saturday, that we forgot to eat lunch. Steve & Sue (brother & sister-in-law), my parents and us towing the boat were in our separate vehicles. We met at the BJ’s in Tilton, shopped there and at the Shaw’s supermarket next door, then made our way to the rental office in Centre Harbor. Doug, mom & dad headed to launch the boat while Steve, Sue and I went to the state store in Centre Harbor and picked up a few extra things at the Heath’s grocery to kill time before we could get the house key.

The next hours were about unpacking, checking out the house, getting dinner ready and most important, saying “hello” to the lake once more. After a spaghetti dinner with grilled sausage and salad. We toasted day one in the house, then Doug took us for a boat ride around Long Island. We admired the waterfront homes, watched the sky change as the sun started dipping to the west and even saw our first pair of loon of the week. Dusk led to a night of rain showers, but the peaceful night with the drumming of rain on the rocks and landscape led to a wonderful Sunday morning pancake breakfast (thanks, Doug!) and fruit. Why does everything taste better on vacation???

We’re having a lazy Sunday and may go visit Adam at Camp Robin Hood. May the clock tick ever-so-slowly.

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The Loon are Calling

View from the Moultonborough vacation house

 

It has been a long while since I’ve posted a blog. And that’s really a good thing. My business is going well; my family life has been full and busy and I’ve been around friends more often in work and play. I suppose the major delay in writing again has been hip surgery. That has been a big change in my life over the past nearly seven months or so.

Our wonderful weekend trip to San Francisco in January put me over the top when it came to the pain I was experiencing in my right hip. Doctors advise that when your pain becomes so intense that you can’t get through your everyday activities, then it’s time to do something about that pain. In February, I went literally crying to Doug telling him I was going to do something about my hip pain. He barely knew I had any problem. No one knew. I really lived with the pain day-to-day for several years until it got so bad, I could not sleep at night or walk stairs without intense pain.

Fast forward to May 9th for hip surgery at Rothman Institute. While I experienced major surgery and had a difficult time wrapping my head around that, the pain I had for so long was gone immediately. Since I had continued going to the gym leading to surgery – no matter how painful – this helped my physical therapy in many ways. I cannot imagine what it would be like to not be on board with exercise and strengthening and then have a body part replaced. I was never on a walker as most hip replacement patients are for as long as a week; I was on crutches for two days and a cane for a week. I was done with physical therapy after about eight visits and continued all of the prescribed exercises for weeks on my own. I continue to go to the gym three times a week and am about 95% of where I want to be. The remaining 5% is the healing of the nerves in my upper right leg which remain numb. It’s still a little sore around the incision which I discovered last weekend when I batted a fly off my by slapping my leg. OUCH!  So, I’m still careful not to bump into things. The incision itself  is healing nicely.

With that major change behind me (literally), I was back to work for the summer months while Adam began his position as a first year aid teaching archery at Camp Robin Hood. As usual, the summer has been a growing experience for him. It’s great to see him happy and enjoying the transition from camper to staff member and doing well. As usual, the summer has flown by. Doug and I had our summer of dates that included trips to Toronto to see the Phillies; a weekend and a day trip in the Chesapeake, and day trips to Brigantine, Barnegat Bay and of course, the Phillies at Citizens Bank Park.

But what we all work for is vacation. We are fortunate to be able to adjust our business calendars to have a long vacation this year back in the land that we love so much: New Hampshire. We’ll be spending time with my family, then Doug’s, as well as Adam’s friend, Andrew joining us along with my friend, Donna.

What is it about vacation that makes the few days leading to vacation so incredibly stressful. Not that I have as much stress as I used to in broadcasting, but the “to do” list is crazy. All week there have been so many tasks and chores to do; clients all of a sudden need your help and advice on something or other (no worries..that’s a good problem to have) and I just KNOW I have forgotten to do something critical!

Now, I breathe deeply knowing the fresh, New Hampshire air and the beautiful lakefront house is just a couple of days away. The solitary call of the loon will no longer be a memory – I’ll hear that sound at mornings and at dusk; we’ll visit “S’More” Island once again; we’ll enjoy family and friends. I’ll be writing lakeside to chronicle yet another bucolic respite in the Granite State.

 

 

 

 

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The End of an Era

Sports writers and TV sports broadcasters can be so maudlin. When the unfortunate passing of a veteran player happens – no matter what sport, the sportscaster quite sadly and dramatically proclaims, “It’s the end of an era.”

Farewell to campers

Watching Adam bid farewell to the campers he worked with this summer marked the end of one of his eras. After being a camper since the age of 9, this year marked his 8th at Camp Robin Hood. By all accounts, this was his best year yet. He seems to have taken care of himself, he matured and hopefully developed a sense of responsibility when it comes to being a counselor and mentor for the younger campers.Next year he ponders whether he’ll spend a summer as a paid counselor.

As I watched him give hugs to the boys who were half his size, I couldn’t help but wonder if Adam would be so happy some day that I took a couple of photos of this scene. These boys – half his size – will someday be CITs just as he was this summer. He’ll fondly remember the arts and crafts and sports and talent nights he spent with these kids and the boys he bunked with and remember lessons learned; laughs enjoyed and all-nighters spent rapping and sharing.

It is with our favorite, maudlin sportscasters in mind that I proclaim – “It’s the end of an era.”

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Water Pumps, Saxons and Tubing

They say you can survive without food, but not without water. We have now survived just about 18 hours without water at our lake house and all is well (or is it water well). The water for the lake house is pumped from a well and the motorized pumping sound is sort of like an air conditioner hum – you know it’s working well – until it’s not. Around midnight Monday, the pump kept cycling through with the “contractions” getting closer and closer until I knew something was wrong. You see, at that hour, no one was using water, so WHY would the water pump be operating? Turns out there was a crack in the housing and water sprayed all over the basement creating a 1/4 inch deep pond. Our attentive house owner was contacted and he arrived around breakfast time to begin cleanup and let us know the plumber was on the way.

The day was not lost. Even without a shower (we showered before the pump had broken), we managed to brush our teeth with bottled water, ate breakfast at a nearby diner, then packed up the boat for Doug’s treat for the Camp Robin Hood Saxons- a jaunt in the boat and tubing. I had decided to treat the Saxons to pizza so the day became a lunch-time, afternoon event.

The Saxons at the Friedman's camp on Lake Ossipee

After picking up $125 worth of pizza, I drove to the home of Jack & Jane Friedman and their son, Myles and wife Virginia. Jack is a cousin of my mother-in-law. Jane’s family has owned the Lake Ossipee property for well over a century. I arrived with the pizza just as the Saxons arrived at the dock. They were hungry and grateful and dug right in. I spent nearly two hours talking with the Friedmans about family history and listened to stories from the past.

The weather was hot, with a light breeze. The Saxons swam and tubed for a while, then collapsed in the beach area outside. I ventured back to our cottage to check out water pump progress. The owner was continuing to wet-vac the basement and dry out belongings that were soaked. Rich, the plumber from Federal Piping in Freedom was just about finished by 3:30 p.m. We had water and a new pump once again.

Doug was exhausted from the Saxon jaunt. I prepared a simple grilled chicken and vegetable dinner with a salad. I watched the Phillies get clobbered by the Dodgers (though they tried to claw their way back), and it was lights out by 11 p.m. Another day at the lake with an adventure in water pumps.

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Letters to Camp

It would be GREAT to write about the wonderful, creative and informative letters I’ll be getting from my 16-year-old son who is safely ensconced in the fantasy world I call “summer camp.” After nine years of this summer adventure and countless reminders to him to “please write;” not to mention printing out personalized stationary, address and return labels, providing stamps and just about everything but actually writing a few words on the notecard, I am giving up.

Adam is now away until August 12 in the bucolic place called Camp Robin Hood. It is known as “The Realm” where the 325 or so boys and girls plus dozens of staff experience “the magic in the trees.” We’ve already enjoyed seeing him in several photos during the first days of camp. Adam leaves behind (most of) his electronics; there’s little, if any, texting, no regular TV or recording his “shows,” and most of all, no mom or dad to daily remind him to do things like – clean up his room, brush his teeth, set the table or take out the trash.

He’s 16 and on the brink of being responsible for not only doing his own laundry come September, but getting his driver’s license and being aware of the awesome grown-up task of driving a car and taking care of that vehicle. (Bless us all.)  For now, Adam is a CIT. Throughout his camp experience, his group of boys was almost the largest group in camp totally a little more than 25 boys at one point. Funny that now that the 16-year-olds have to partly

The inaugural splash into Broad Bay off Lake Ossipee.

“work” at camp, the numbers for his group are down to about 13. Granted, some of the boys may have found paying jobs elsewhere or other programs to enrich their lives. Adam won’t make any money this summer – he gets to go to camp for half-price in exchange for CIT work. My hope is that he’ll come back from camp more mature as he usually does and has a few “ah-ha!” moments. Those moments could be that he will or will not apply to be a full-fledged counselor next summer; found something he’s passionate about and will pursue in the coming years or that maybe mom and dad aren’t so nuts when they urge him to take care of his belongings and keep his room straight.

Back to the “letters TO camp.” I sent my first of what will be MANY letters to our son. We have just one child and despite the rough and tumble teenaged years, I realize we will only “have” him for maybe another year-and-a-half or maybe two years. He’ll be 18 soon enough and pushing the envelope of adulthood. Knowing this, I send him a page or two recapping a few days-in-the-life back on the home front. I do wonder if he reads my letters; since I send with them the Sunday comics and comic books and magazines. I even go so far as to punch holes in the letters so he can neatly place the letters in the stationary/letter writing loose-leaf he’s been taking to camp for years. Fat chance, right?

I’m glad I’m continuing to try to reinforce the old-fashioned and valuable skill of letter writing. There’s something about reading about someone’s life and understanding their thoughts that certainly a text or even a phone call can’t express. The generation we’ve seen zip by us has become one of technology verses emotions; Instant gratification versus understanding the value of waiting.

The other thought is, no matter what, I DO miss my son during these seven weeks. I’m a little jealous he gets to enjoy the “magic in the trees” while I plug away at my business as does my husband. But we look forward to hearing from Adam anyway, no matter what the form. He’ll probably write two or maybe three notes to us. The grandparents will get a note from him and he’ll probably call us once or twice.

It’s summer – he’s in a special place he loves and somehow we know he’s appreciating how hard it is to raise children – as he works with other younger boys at camp this summer. Maybe he’ll have to help the younger ones write a letter home!