Camp Green Lane 100th Summer Blog Post, July 7th

Today, Aunt Melissa, Aunt Jess, and I climbed aboard the buses with about 60 girls and their coaches and headed out for our first Intercamp Games of the summer against Camp Nock-A-Mixon. Our 12-, 14-, and 16-and-under teams competed in soccer and basketball at their camp while our boys welcomed Nock’s teams here at CGL.

As we pulled through Nock’s gates, I was instantly transported back to my camper days. I used to love Intercamp Games. Of course I wanted to win, but if I’m being honest, the games weren’t the only reason I looked forward to them.

I loved being a tourist for a few hours.

I’d check everything out.

Do they have bunk beds like we do? What’s their dining hall like? Where do they hold Sing? What do their cheers sound like?

I loved spotting the little things that made each camp unique.

I loved seeing friends from school who went to other camps. After hearing them talk all year about their counselors, bunks, and traditions, I finally got to see the place they loved so much.

For a few hours, another camp became my home.

But only for a few hours.

Because no matter how much fun I had, no matter how close the games were, no matter how beautiful another camp looked, I always felt the exact same way when it was time to leave.

I couldn’t wait to come home.

Every camp has a lake.

Every camp has fields.

Every camp has courts.

Every camp has a dining hall, cabins, campfires, songs, Color War plaques, and traditions that generations of campers treasure.

They’re all wonderful.

But they’re not OUR camp. OUR home.

Home is the place where you know every path without thinking. It’s the sound of the bugle. The cheers that you’ve been shouting for years. It’s the place where your best memories live, and where new ones are waiting to be made tomorrow.

As our buses rolled back into the Circle this afternoon, I caught myself smiling.

Some things don’t change, even after 30 years.

It’s fun to visit.

It’s exciting to compete.

But there is, and always will be, something magical about seeing that Camp Green Lane arch and thinking, We’re home.

– Aunt Robin