I am being blessed with the old songs right now
- col-lee-elliot-aging-graciously
- April 28, 2024
- 183
For some strange reason, I am experiencing a revival of old songs in my head each day. Lyrics just pop in, and I start singing verses from my earliest childhood, from WWII, elementary school and summer camp.
The strangest part is I can remember all the words to even the silliest of songs, like “Mares z dotes,” “I Stuck My Head in a Little Skunk Hole” and “Just Plant a Watermelon on My Grave,” as well as those that brought tears during the war years such as “Comin’ in on a Wing and a Prayer” or “White Cliffs of Dover.” Every day more add themselves to my current repertoire.
Of course, along with the melodies come the memories of where I was when I learned them. Our next-door neighbor convinced my parents it would be good for me to go to summer camp way over by Johnstown, Pennsylvania. They were originally from that area, and their daughter, a couple of years older than me, had been going there. I rode with them the first time, also my first time completely away from anyone in my family, dreading every moment. I had no idea what I would be doing.
The ride to Camp Blue Knob, a YWCA camp nestled in the top of Blue Knob Mountain, took several hours. Upon arrival I was taken by my 15-year-old counselor to the cabin I shared with three others, placed the required blanket on a straw mattress hanging over a cot and stowed my clothes beneath. There was no glass in the windows and no electricity. Outside were nothing but huge trees and rocks and a narrow path leading about a half-mile to the Mess Hall.
Within hours we were involved, and I soon discovered that when the sun shone, the air was so pure you could taste it. When it rained, you got soaked, and I slept better at night than I could ever remember doing at home. It was safe, walking around in the woods. There was nothing to fear.
We were kept busy morning to night, made our way in the dark with flashlights and learned to wash in cold water. The highlight of each day’s activities was a swim in the bright-blue pool filled by an artesian mountain spring that was so cold your teeth chattered the whole time. We hiked, worked on nature projects, and made lanyards and wallets to take home as gifts to our families.
And mostly we sang while waiting for meals and after meals and did silly skits everyone knew but still died laughing at. Those songs are the ones pulling me back to some of the most wonderful memories of my life. We learned to be a little bit independent, to cope with minor adversity, made lifelong friends and looked forward to the next summer when we could see them again. I knew early on that it wasn’t our parents wanted to dump us for a couple of weeks but rather I really wanted to be there.
I attended as a camper and then as a counselor and swim teacher through my sophomore year in high school. For the most part, all campers took their newly found independence seriously and forgot to be homesick. This lasted throughout life, a special understanding that it is OK to leave home and strike out on your own for a while. Your family will be there when you get back.
I don’t know why I am being blessed with the old songs right now. I certainly have plenty of other music to listen to. Somehow, I feel that at this time of my life, the clear, strong memories are being brought to me as comfort in a far more complex world. I wish summer camp for everyone.