We three volunteer counselors move slowly under the weight of the sun, marveling at songs of the red-winged black birds by the pond. We’ve just finished cleaning up the spiffy new arts & crafts area and we’re heading toward camp’s outdoor theatre where the all camp photo will be taken. I have three paper-bag puppets - two people puppets and one pig puppet - under my arm, their yarn hair and curly tail blowing in the hot wind. They’re props for the Camp Fire offering tonight in which six or more kids and I will sing.
Dragonflies swoop at the edges of the water. As we round the corner I see a dad stretched out on one of the log benches sound asleep. My heart wells up with empathy. It’s one thing to have a child whose life is threatened by cancer. It’s an extra burden when moms and dads don’t speak the language of the medical staff, and long hours worked won’t cover the costs incurred during the fight for health.
Padres Contra el Cancer steps in to help such families. Campamento Familiar Mother’s Day Weekend sessions at Camp Ronald McDonald for Good Times are often attended by some of Padre’s staff. We are at benefit this weekend of three of the organization’s staff members: Rosie, Valeria - herself a former camper - and Cesar, a doctoral candidate in counseling who is at camp for the first time.
“Ya es tiempo para el almuerzo. It’s lunch time already!” I say as we walk by the tired papa. He rouses and we let him know, as he stretches sleepily, that we’re gathering first at the theatre just beyond the dining hall for the photo. He and I exchange pleasantries, he in perfect Spanish and some English; I in halting Spanish. We get to the theater.
The last stragglers wander in after us. Shutters click. Cheers and smiles abound. Nearly every mom, pop, child and counselor is wearing a new white tee shirt with the camp’s iconic rainbow logo with three paper-doll-cut-out-style kids linking arms. To me the logo symbolizes the unity we feel at camp - all colors, all sizes, all ages and abilities. As my husband often says at the sometimes tearful camp closings, “Somos una familia.” We are one family.
Saturday night is here! Twilight spotlights the magic of camp... moms, dads and kids on the basketball and volleyball courts, in the sandbox, on the porch, playing catch, watching vapor trails turn pink, orange and finally purple as the sun pours gold over the mountains ringing Camp Ronald McDonald for Good Times.
Inside the dining hall, so many songs, poems, and skits are offered, and, yes, the puppet show version of “The Wheels on the Bus” - wherein the pig on the bus says, “I’m in the wrong song, I’m in the wrong song!” (It was a toss up whether we’d sing “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” or “Wheels on the Bus.” “Wheels” won.)
Sunday’s closing is a three Kleenex event for me. One dad, not our sleeping hero - but another heroic one, confesses that he was coming only to bring the wife and kids and that he did not expect to really “BE” at camp. Early into Friday night’s activities, he realized what it was all about and he dove in - full throttle - to PLAY FULLY, spend quality time with his children, let his hair down at the parent meeting, and to enjoy the natural beauty which abounds in these mountains above Palm Springs. During his impromptu sharing at the closing circle, this dad speaks twice from his heart about the gratitude he and his entire family feel for this campamento, los voluntarios, the staff, the food and the wisdom shared by other families on a similar path.
Anyone who steps into the center of this circle is surrounded by love. Four year old N whispers to Cesar, who is MC for the closing, so he can say her words out loud: “Feliz Dia de Las Madres.” The circle erupts in cheers and applause. Little N beams.
DD, a volunteer barely older than the oldest camper thanks the parents for loaning to us their most precious possessions - their kids - if only for the weekend. He goes on to acknowledge that we volunteers come because we adore witnessing the incredible magic that happens when kids feel normal instead of “odd-one-out” as so many of them do at school. Patient B, her parents, grandma and her younger sister and brother are my family to support during the three days. Eight year old B confides in me that kids at school bullied her. One boy pushed her down so he could see her wig fall off during her “chemo-cut” days. At camp, not only are we “una familia,” but NO one is odd one out.
Mi esposo, mi amor, thanks the adolecentes for creating the carnival Saturday afternoon. I say, in my halting Spanish, that it is because you love your children that they become our teachers here at camp. We learn from them how to love with an open heart, to play as if there’s no tomorrow and to try new things - even if it’s a little scary.
With open hearts, we close our circle and return home. All the familia is enriched.
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