Dan's Fireside Chats

I've struggled with the name Camp Stand-By-Me for a while now. Half of me thinks it's corny and Free Willyish, while the other half scolds me for being inconsiderate towards children with disabilities. So, since the kids have disabilities, the camp name must be extra sappy? What about The Camp at Vaughn Bay OR, if the namer has a sense of humor and full job security, Camp Pee Your Pants. It also forces my inner conscience to hum that song, "I'll stand by you. I'll staaaaaand by you. Blubber blibber blabber. I'll stand by YOU", a horrific daily occurrence.

Camp Stand-By-Me (BLAST THAT NAME!*^#!!!!) has nature trails off to the left side of it if you were facing up the hill from the bay. Because of it's hilly nature and campers' needs, the trails require boardwalk to traverse, giving it a bunch of switchbacks and wild bends in the road. The problem is that these boards are covered with what camp director Ellen dubbed "Northwest Slime", the most slippery substance known to mankind. I scoffed at this prospect at first (which I seem to be prone to do judging from previous posts, you think I'd learn something one of these days), but changed my tune quickly upon watching one of her dogs slide about 3 feet forward in an attempted stop. These boards are a menace to society.

Enter Americorps NCCC Green 6. Our daily routine: Ply up boards from the boardwalk with crowbars and hammer, pressure wash them, stain them, put a layer of sand on them for rough texture, apply 2 layers of sealant, nail those willies back in. The difficult part is managing drying time, keeping the process flowing smoothly, and the fact that everything bottlenecks at the pressure washer (because there's only 1.) When we are not working on the nature trails, we are disassembling bunk beds and reassembling new ones, moving truckloads of new furniture, or doing paperwork or other odd jobs.

Another problem is the Camp Director, Ellen. She is our first attrocious boss, a change of pace from the well-managed last 2 projects. She's like an oversized mother hen pecking at her chicks, but instead of using a beak she impugns us with passive aggresive clauses. Although not always around, we eat lunch at her apartment, which is above us. The tension in the room is palpable, sort of swirling around the room from person to person as she suggest dietary restrictions and healthy, sustainable living habits. Her austerity hurts. A little cloud of "smug" hangs over her head. She's one of those people that, as you see her coming your way, you can do nothing but groan and wish you were invisible so you don't have to go through this painful interaction and lecturing.

The maintenance guy, Jason, comes to camp 2 days a week. He is a baller. Funniest, most easygoing guy in the business. Sample conversation:

Jason: "What's up, mang."
Me: "Yo, Dawg."
Jason: "How's the wife and kids"
Me: "All 7 of them are doing well, thanks. And you?"
Jason: "Pregnant as all hell, but doing well."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ml_R9QisgRY