There were a few bright moments from my childhood. Moments I cling to because they remind me that it wasn't all bad.
When I was a kid, my mom sent me to a summer camp full of rich kids, where I stayed for four weeks. It was in the far reaches of Northern Wisconsin in some of the most beautiful land this country has to offer.
It didn't matter that I was the poorest kid there. And while I was at camp, I didn't have to worry about all the horrific crap that was waiting for me back home.
Instead of drunken adults telling me I was worthless, lazy, and stupid, I had some of the prettiest lakes and streams outside my cabin.
Instead of adults crossing lines no adult should ever cross with a child, I was a kid among kids, doing kid things like I was a normal kid.
I can remember the days when the depression crept into my life back then. I can remember having no self-esteem and knowing that I was worthless, and there were people there who countered that with words of kindness and support. I was a troubled kid and there were people who noticed and helped me see there was something else about me that was good.
One of the counselors, the basketball coach, took me under his wing. He pumped me up and let me know I was a good kid with a future and potential. I wasn't some worthless idiot like I had been told over and over by my dad.
That guy planted a seed that wouldn't die and carried me through a lot of bad days.
It is the nature of childhood trauma, be it sexual abuse, physical, mental, or emotional, to make that child feel they are somehow less than the people around them but at this summer camp, Camp Golden Eagle, I wasn't less than the others. I was just like the others. Nobody was better than me and I wasn't better or worse than anybody else.
This was an important time in my childhood.
My family was poor but they always got me there. My grandmother paid for it once, my aunt paid for it one year as well, and I saved up my money from my paper route. I spent three summers up there and even now, forty years later, I find myself clinging to some of those memories because they had such a powerful meaning for me.
One of the reasons Mom always insisted I go is because we had some bad kids in our neighborhood who were always getting into trouble. She was certain that it was only a matter of time before I got dragged into it with them. One time, the police came to the house looking for me, because they were told I was fingered for some kind of hooliganism or another.
Mom laughed and said, "He's in Northern Wisconsin, about eight hours away. I can give you the phone number if you'd like." The cop just shook his head and left.
The summer camp was on Lake Minocqua in Woodruff, Wisconsin. Gorgeous area, stunningly beautiful water, with some of the cleanest air you'll ever breathe. There were houses up and down the lake with boat houses. At night, we would watch retirees with their wooden boats lit up like Christmas trees cruise around the lake. These boats were exquisite and reminded me of bedroom furniture with their stained wood and immaculate maintenance.
We used to go on canoe trips into various parts of that region. The younger kids went to smaller waterways, while the oldest were allowed to go on The Canadian, which I believe was in the Boundary Waters area. I was in the middle, age-wise, so we went on a couple different trips.
One was on the St. Germain River.
This trip was magical for me. I went on it twice and each time, there was something about that area that touched me on a deep and profound level. I connected with something powerful, kind, and loving. That area had a spiritual energy that I connected with in my own childish way.
As I've said before, I was a deeply troubled kid, and I was rapidly approaching the age when what was left of my childhood was going to be stripped away by a host of people who made bad choices. The spirit of that area, be it of the waterways, or the land itself, or even one that simply passed through and found me, connected with me and taught me something.
On that trip I learned one of those lessons you just can't quantify with words and pictures. I learned, through that connection, that there was something out there greater than myself, and that it wasn't bad. It didn't judge me or tell me I was going to hell, nor did it reject me because I was worthless, stupid, and lazy.
On that trip, while connecting with that spiritual energy, I was accepted for who I was. It didn't care about those awful memories of lines being crossed I had begun to block out. It didn't make me accountable for anything. It just accepted me for being me.
I often refer to that area as my Happy Place. I often go back in day dreams. But I've wanted to go back there in person for a long time and I couldn't find it on any map. I had hoped to see it again before I died.
Today, I found it, thanks to the help of some folks who were on those canoe trips with me, because the wonders of social media never cease. I'm fairly certain now that I can actually go there again.
I mean, once I lose enough weight to be mobile. The weight struggles continue, unfortunately, but I'm trying. And I'm ready to make another concerted effort with the help of friends, my medical guy, and my therapist. Demons be damned, I'm gonna drop this weight, and I'm gonna go find my Happy Place again. I'm going to visit it again and I'm going to connect with that place just as I did as a child.
I had always hoped to see Dave the basketball coach again just to thank him for what he did for me. Maybe I will, maybe it will be another missed opportunity. But it's my hope I can just so he knows he made a positive impact in this world for at least one kid who badly needed it.
I have a goal now to help me with my weight loss. I know where to find a place I've been looking for off and on for years. And today, I am able to say that there were bright moments in my childhood, and those moment carried me much further than I expect anybody ever intended or realized was possible.
I don't remember the song from Camp Golden Eagle. We never sang it much. But I'll always remember the people because their kindness and acceptance of a troubled kid made all the difference.
