Posts Tagged With: Camp

Words For Wednesday By Phoebe Larkins!

50 Things I Learned from Coppercreek Camp by Phoebe Larkins:

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Being a camper at Coppercreek for almost eight years, you learn a few things. Here are some very important things you will learn at camp:

  1. Nature isn’t THAT scary
  2. Goldfish is, hands down, the best snack
  3. Playing all day = a great night’s sleep
  4. You don’t need TV and the Internet to have fun
  5. You get used to the permanent horse smell
  6. Dirt can make its way almost ANYWHERE
  7. The pool is a great excuse to skip a shower
  8. Your favorite counselors will be there for you no matter what
  9. Cereal is always a big hit
  10. The five minute hike to your cabin’s outpost spot will feel like an eternity
  11. DON’T DROP YOUR HOTDOG IN THE CAMPFIRE
  12. Greenville seems like the Big Apple when you leave to do out of camp activities
  13. It’s a great feeling when you get back to camp after being at the lake all day
  14. SHOWER! FASTER! SHOWER! FASTER!
  15. The goats (surprisingly) don’t like being fed dead pine needles
  16. We’re always running out of glitter
  17. You’ll lose count of all the shooting stars you will see
  18. YOU CAN’T RIDE IN MY LITTLE RED WAGON.
  19. Trying to pile 5 people on a paddle board is physically impossible (so why do we continue to try?!?!?)
  20. Cookie baking is one of the most crowded activities, get there fast!
  21. Pure happiness is the feeling you get when you see your best friends after a year of being away from them
  22. Soccer on the field is intense
  23. Dirt tan lines aren’t forever
  24. Craig’s BBQ is better than anything
  25. It’s completely acceptable to see everyone when you’ve just woken up and haven’t brushed your teeth yet.
  26. Rest hour naps are a necessity
  27. Don’t be afraid of going to see the nurse if you need to!
  28. Becky is like your camp mom
  29. Homesickness doesn’t last long at Coppercreek
  30. You never forget your favorite camp people
  31. Camp food tastes GREAT.
  32. Put on sunscreen everyday!
  33. When it says volleyball on the schedule, it means volleyball. Not nameball.
  34. Four happy thoughts will stick with you all year
  35. Reaching the bell at the climbing wall is an awesome accomplishment
  36. If you keep your eyes peeled you may see deer on the soccer field
  37. The Big Fun Game is actually big and fun.
  38. When you get home from camp, you will find yourself waking up at 7:30 and going to bed at 9 on a regular basis
  39. Thinking is overrated.
  40. Shampoo is actually not necessary
  41. Tie dye day is the best day
  42. Capture the flag feels like an actual war zone
  43. You can use dirt as makeup if you try hard enough
  44. The pool is a great place for a polar plunge
  45. Opening a package at camp is like opening presents on Christmas morning
  46. It can be freezing when you wake up and blazing hot an hour later
  47. The sunset at Vespers is absolutely gorgeous *spirit fingers*
  48. You will need a pedicure after camp
  49. Friday night is party night!
  50. Coppercreek Camp is a place for making new friendships, creating memories, learning life skills, forging new paths in life as you know it, and most importantly having fun.
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Silly Sunday!

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Throwback Thursday!

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John Lindskog- 10 long years

It has been 10 long years since we said, “Goodbye.” Amy Murray wrote about her special relationship with “Papa John” last year and here it is again because it is beautiful.

Camp Wedding Folks-1There are relationships that happen in grand swoops of time, that build over cups of coffee and glasses of wine and slow meals and travels and adventures.

There are relationships that go from zero to sixty – total strangers to dearest friends, in a matter of one long walk, one summer job, one shared dorm room.

My relationship with Papa was one of moments, tiny, shiny, round globes of time that snuck up on me, so that I didn’t even know how much I loved him until, in the blink of an eye, I did.

He wasn’t always “Papa.” At first, he was “John.” Then, when I was less afraid of him, he was “Johnny” (and sometimes, behind his back, he was “Johnny-boy”). And then he was “Papa” to the two little girls who ran all over camp. And then, suddenly, he was “Papa John” to all of us, introducing himself that way to the whole camp, every Opening Night. Papa John. Papa.

Now that he is gone, I keep those moments like a little boy keeps a pocket full of marbles, running my fingers through them over and over, picking out my favourites, treasuring them all.

Papa picking me up at the airport when I didn’t know him well yet, wasn’t sure how to greet him. A hard, short, surprising hug. “Babe, we sure have missed you. Welcome home.”

Home. Babe. A warm glow around those words. Home. Babe.

Meetings, often brusquely demanded by him, to pore over transportation lists and logistics. Who needs to leave when, in which vehicle, stand where, at which terminal. I didn’t always understand what he needed, but knew it was the ritual of the thing that mattered, the conversation itself a sign that he believed in my competence.

Closing days with early morning flights. The chill grey dawn, where Papa was the driver and I woke tired campers, loading them into his truck with sleep still in their eyes. The first year of this: Papa pacing, worrying gruffly that I would forget, sleep too late. The next summer: Papa calm in the kitchen on those mornings, making his coffee. “I never should have doubted you, babe. I put that kettle on for you.” A nod toward the stove, where the kettle was just starting to whistle for the tea I drank every morning. When did Papa take the time to notice my tea?

The years I stayed after the campers had left, to help with special events and rental groups, I would often wander down to the pool in the afternoons, to read until the slanting sunlight grew too hot, and then to float in the turquoise water, look up at the sky, feel myself in the centre of a perfect orb of blueness. Many days, Papa would show up, swim a few laps, sit with me and chat about the weather, the trees, the history of this place that he built. He never stayed long, standing up abruptly after a few minutes. “Well, Babe, I’ll get out of your hair, let you have your quiet.”

As fall crept up, Papa would pull out his road atlas, to talk about my long drive home, through 4 states and 2 provinces. It seemed to me he knew every highway, freeway, and dirt road that led out of that valley. He liked the long, isolated side roads for himself, but steered me towards better populated routes.

Papa left us the way he loved us: quickly, almost gruffly. True to everything about him, his house was in order, both literally and figuratively. He left no mess, literal or figurative, for his loved ones to clean up. When more than a hundred of us gathered to say goodbye to him, the air was filled with music and laughter, the tight hugs of those who share a history beyond words. Writing his obituary was one of the greatest honours of my life.

When Papa died, I phoned my own dad, in tears. “Daddy…. Papa died.” “Oh, darlin. I’m so sorry. I know you loved him. And he loved you, so much.”

Papa built the place I love best in the world. He was father to one of the best friends, and strongest women, I’ve ever known. For those 2 things, alone, I would have loved him with my whole heart. But having him love ME…

That is the roundest, shiniest marble of all, the one I pull out when things get dark, running the pad of my thumb over it’s blue-ness.

Papa loved me.

-Amy

Please visit Miss Night Mutters to read more of Amy’s thoughts.

Categories: Alumni, Good Deeds, happy toughts, The good ole days, Throwback Thursday | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Silly Sunday!

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Throwback Thursday!

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Words for Wednesday by Ryleigh Hogland!

It’s hard to express in words how much camp means to me, but I’ll do my best, so bear with me.

Camp is home, my happy place. Camp is family where being related by blood doesn’t matter, but love makes family.

Camp is everyone not being afraid to just be them, be nice, to form relationships that don’t occur out in the real world. To just be and not be judged, but to be accepted. Camp is everyone forming these beautiful bonds that tie us together forever.

I talk to my camp friends throughout the school year more than I talk to my school friends most of the time. There’s no worry about not being accepted, no debate over whether or not you can be yourself.

It’s family, welcoming you with open arms after way too long away from home. rooandcaro

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Silly Sunday!

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Silly Sunday!

How do you make a tissue dance?!
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You put a little boogie in it!

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Throwback Thursday!

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