Lessons Learned
My happy place: Camp Timberlane in Haliburton, ON.
As fall rapidly descends on us (I’m so not ready for sweater weather), I’ve been reflecting on the summer that was. And with that comes thoughts on the summer that wasn’t.
For many kids that meant a summer away from camp. If you and/or your children have had the privilege of experiencing the magic of sleep-away camp, then you’ll understand that a season without it is akin to taking away your second family or your home away from home.
Not only was I blessed with the opportunity to spend most of my childhood at one of Ontario’s finest, I continued on as a staff member through my late teens, early twenties and even went back in my early forties as one of their “mature” staff members (in age only, trust me). Throw on top of that the fact that my dad, aunt, siblings, nieces, nephew and son have all spent time there, you could say it’s somewhat of a family tradition.
The magical place I’m referring to is Camp Timberlane located a few hours outside of Toronto in the Haliburton Highlands. While I’ve got T-Lane in my veins, I’ve always said that whatever camp you go to is the best camp ever. And more importantly, the lessons learned in this type of environment transcend the day-to-day experience of water sports and campfires.
Those who have walked the path at Camp Timberlane had the honour of being exposed to its founder, Barry Lowes. Barry and his wife Philomena opened the gates in 1957 and their vision was “to create a community where kids could spend their summers, connect with nature, learn new skills, become part of a family and express their individuality.” They both played a pivotal role in building an exceptional community and culture. But it was Barry and his well-known “benedictions” that left an indelible mark on me and my fellow alumni. Not only was it what he said, it’s how he led, that molded thousands of people over generations. Barry passed away this winter at the age of 93, but his legacy lives on with his words and his lessons. So I thought I’d use my own pulpit to share a few with you:
Don’t shoot from the hip: This was one of his most repeated and memorable adages. While he probably didn’t invent the term, he certainly lived by it and he taught people of all ages how to abide by it. Whether it’s your cabin mate, business partner, ex-spouse or even a salesperson at a store, be thoughtful in your words and your actions. Don’t rush to judgment or try to hit someone where it hurts. (In modern terms, don’t be a Karen.)
Let the punishment fit the crime: Again, not revolutionary but certainly relevant. In the camp environment, this meant disciplining children (and staff) in an appropriate and timely manner. For example, taking food away from a kid for throwing it (cuz who doesn’t love a good food fight at camp?!) is neither appropriate nor productive. Having them sit at another table, away from their friends will get the message across more effectively. He would also remind us all that food is a right, not a privilege, which is something we should all remember in this age of great disparity.
You only need one good friend: While I don’t think he meant this literally, the point was you don’t need to be the most popular, most active or most well-known person. You just need to connect with someone and know that they have your back. I believe the corollary to this lesson was that you’re not going to like everyone but you need to learn to get along. Whether you’re living in a cabin with 12 other kids, sharing an office space or a home, everyone deserves to be heard and respected whether you agree (or like them) or not.
Appreciate nature: Seems obvious in a camp setting, right? Sort of. Like your neighbour’s home, the more times you walk by it, the less you tend to notice it. It probably took me until my forties to really appreciate this. While I was never Joe Camper (pun intended), I learned to truly love the outdoors and how it soothes a cluttered mind and a tired body. And given that we are in a climate crisis (we are, we really are), we can’t take for granted what is right outside our door.
Don’t just pack your sweatshirts in your duffels, pack your memories, too: A very famous Barry-ism, but so meaningful. Experiences over items, people over things. I also took this to mean, don’t forget where you came from and how you got there. Before we know it, we’ll be old and our memories will fade (where did I leave my keys, again?). Cherish them as long as you can and when things go to sh*t (like 2020, perhaps?), think back to one of those times you were happiest and know that good times will come again.
Before some of you go calling me a privileged elite, I want to end by mentioning that it doesn’t take a summer at camp to learn (or live) these lessons. As it happens, my brothers and I went to camp as a result of Barry’s generosity and his partnership with Jewish Family & Child Services. But thanks to my experience there, I can say my life is very rich.