The Value of a Wilderness Trip at Camp Mishawaka

I’ve always thought it is more than a bit ironic that I often extoll the virtues of a session at Camp Mishawaka- an experience that separates a person from all things digital- via the very medium that I am saying is all too prevalent in our lives, but there is little doubt it is the most effective way to do so. The story of the value of Camp is not always easy to tell, or perhaps more accurately, easy to hear. In all the noise of our daily lives-and yes, there is even “noise” in the north woods of Minnesota- we turn our attention to the next thing in line, and more often than not, that next thing has little to do with the value of unplugging.

The point was driven home for me recently in an article in the New York Times entitled “The Joy of Quiet”. The author recounts attending a seminar on “Marketing to the Child of Tomorrow” and being struck by Madison Avenue’s interest not in the latest digital technology to sell soap to children, but by the Ad World’s interest in “stillness”.

I had seen the data before, but it is always startling to see it again: The average American spends at least eight and a half hours a day in front of a screen. The average teenager sends or receives 75 text messages a day. The average office worker enjoys no more than three minutes at a time at his or her desk without interruption. As quiet and stillness become more scarce, children will begin to crave, the author argues, nothing more than freedom from all the blinking machines and ring tones. Remarkably, and a bit regrettably, that is the best news for the Camping Movement I have read in some time.

Since its founding in 1910 Camp Mishawaka has been all about unplugging, though they did not call it that in 1910. At the start, the Camping Movement arose in response to worry about the Industrial Age, urbanization and modern conveniences undoing the American “Frontier Spirit.” In today’s information age, even with most of our physical frontiers conquered, there is still profound value in a traditional Camp experience. The author points out the, ‘information revolution came without an instruction manual’, and that:

All the data in the world cannot teach us how to sift through data; images don’t show us how to process images.
The only way to do justice to our onscreen lives is by summoning exactly the emotional and moral clarity that can’t be found on any screen.

I don’t pretend to know every one of the places one can find such clarity, and I suppose there are many. Faith, family and friendship come right to mind. But I also know that one can find a life-long sense of emotional and moral clarity in the north woods of Minnesota. I’ve seen it happen over and over, and would like to believe that I’ve found my own sense of the same here on the shores of Lake Pokegama.

I’ve also seen it knee-deep in loon goop on a portage trail or in the sunset over a flat Lake Superior, or in any other of a number of Camp Mishawaka wilderness trips I have had the privilege to take or lead. I think this video captures just this feeling from our campers and staff from 2011, and I am pleased to share it with you here.

Tripping at Camp Mishawaka: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jCmwg7ufbzE&list=UUtTCC_3aKj12RfL2ylMY6dQ&index=2&feature=plcp
Be sure to select the HD option for full effect!

Best regards,

Steve

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Camp Letters

Camp Letters

I returned to my childhood home recently, along with my siblings, to begin the process of cleaning it out and preparing it for a sale. (My mother recently moved into an Assisted Living Facility in the Memory Care Unit.) And, whatever the cause of her loss of memories, she did an incredible job of preserving ours. One might argue she did it too well- keeping old grade school projects, report cards and swim meet ribbons. But, it brought me sheer joy to discover all the letters I had ever written to them from Camp Mishawaka- as a camper and staff member- stuffed neatly into a bag, along with the reports my counselors had written.

The first thing that struck me was just how poor my penmanship was! Maybe there is hope for our son Harrison yet- though I am hardly a shining example of the “Palmer Method” today. Once I was able to decipher my own script, I got thinking about how today’s parents might feel getting letters like the ones I was writing. They were not too detailed, the very first letter I wrote in 1974 simply stating that the, ‘Dragon flies are thik up here. It is lots of fun. My counselor’s name is Peder. Play lots of baseball. It is raining today. June 20th’ , but there was a central theme. I was having a blast.

That is not to say that all my missives home were Pop Line and A-Ball. I had some difficulties, many of them likely self-inflicted but some of the trouble I found might trigger a parental visit, or at the least a call, email or text today: Not getting selected on a trip when we “drew straws” to see who got to go, failing my Jr. Lifesaving class after foregoing a “big” trip so as not to miss a single class, being placed in a cabin with 3 boys from the same home town three years in a row. The last one did prompt a letter from my mother, but by the time the Director received it we were all fast and furious friends.

The Counselor Reports sent to my parents were just a general as some of the ones that get written today, but even all these years later I can recognize myself in them. My 2nd year counselor wrote, ‘He did find a group of about four boys to gang around with. They got into a bit of trouble pestering the other boys but nothing serious happened’. Cap Cavins signed the report, but I am not sure we would (or could) send this out in good conscience today. No doubt my Parent’s concerns were allayed when my counselor went on to say, ‘ Steve is a good kid who has a little growing up to do ( I was 10!) However, I think the growing up will come in time. Looking back I think that I was not unlike Steve. He’ll come along’. That was the same year my cabin mates and I took all the springs out his bed and short-sheeted his mattress. When he discovered this he pulled me off my top bunk and had me sleep in his bed for the rest of the night.

But it was the letters I had written as an older camper, and then as a young staff member that were the most interesting. I don’t recall not wanting to return as a CIT, but apparently in 1980 I was convinced that I did not want to come to Camp the following year. By the end of the summer I had changed my mind- thankfully. In 1987 I was the Head of Belding (my first year in that role) and the same year that Mishawaka was set to sell the Girls Camp and consolidate operations. I wrote home with great sadness, anger and worry about this news. It was not at all clear that Camp Mishawaka would continue. I never could have imagined that in three short years I would be in a position to help make sure it did.

As I told friends about the work my siblings and I were embarking on each of them shared a story about taking part in such a clean-out. Why do parents keep so many things? I started to think, as we were plowing through boxes that were transported in toto from my Grandfather’s house after his death in 1981 and not opened since, that parents keep this stuff to give their children a chance to remember – even when they can’t.

Thanks for making Camp Mishawaka a part of your memory.

Best regards,

Steve

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The Final Campfire

Two years ago I sat in a room with independent camp directors and owners and listened to a “change guru” proclaim the death of our model of doing business. He called us a ‘typewriter industry in a computer age’, and went on to say that our sessions of “weeks” were out of sync with a market that is looking for “days” of programming.

Two nights ago I sat at the Boys Camp and Girls Camp final campfires and listened to our CIT’s reflect back on their summer and their time at Mishawaka, and as they fought back tears to describe their experience, I could not help but think of that “change guru” and come to one conclusion: How dare he!

How dare he, or others, announce the end of something that is so important to today’s young men and women. How dare he assume that because attention spans and summers are shortening, there is still not a market for what we do.

To be sure, the landscape has changed dramatically in my 20 years as Director of Mishawaka. The resurgence of the sports-specialty camp, shifts in the school calendar (some schools began August 8th!) exotic opportunities around the globe for today’s children, the rise in operating expenses that forces tuition increases which outpace inflation have all contributed to a smaller market.

But, if you could have heard these campers’ speeches, you would again realize the incredible role a summer camp experience at Mishawaka can play, and that it is something that we all must preserve and protect.

These young adults spoke with an astonishing moral clarity. They realized that as they passed from being campers, an important stage in their lives was coming to a close. To a person, they spoke about their first year of Camp and the fear that they felt when they first arrived; and, to a person they talked about how, in some cases in a matter of minutes after arriving, this apprehension was eliminated by a friendly gesture on the part of a counselor. The talked about being challenged, being included and valued for who they are, and about being a part of something larger than themselves.

They spoke about the joy of being “un-tethered” from the technology and social expectations and pressures they face at home. They talked about their friends at Camp
-friendships that will likely last a lifetime, and the examples and role models they had at Mishawaka. With one foot firmly in childhood and the other stepping into the slippery slope of adulthood, they referenced the foundation that Mishawaka has helped them build. Each of them knowing well that this grounding will allow them to make the transition confidently.

In the midst of the most recent “Age of Uncertainty” it is inspirational to see these campers filled with so much confidence rooted in real experience, optimism for their future, and enthusiasm for the simple things in life. It affirms, again, our mission statement:
It is the purpose of Camp Mishawaka to make a positive impact on the lives of campers that lasts a lifetime.

Yours in Camping,

Steve Purdum

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Remembering David Larsen

David, Dave, Davey Boy. Lars, Mr. Laaarsen, Lar-Daddy, Lard. Elvis, Swamp Boy, the Doodler, Davey-Doodle. The Captain. Gedney, Gelding, DB ’78.

Such were some of the nick-names of David Larsen, and for those of you who knew him, these monikers likely evoke a certain memory, or bring to mind a particular adventure. When you move to Northern Minnesota from out of state, one of the fist things you notice is that everyone here has a nick-name- Hoolie, Snakes, Snags, Spaulding, Petey, A. V., Buzz, Lloydie, Bruno, Mouse, Barney, Squabie, Robere, Chief, Though there is no formal ceremony, one is given these names as a sign of friendship, acceptance and celebration.

Once, a camp counselor from Scotland told David and me that he did not like all the nick-names he was getting, and he thought he was being teased. David explained to him that this was a sign of friendship and he only needed to worry when people stopped giving him nick-names. From the list of above, it is clear that David had earned the tribute of friends, and was celebrated by many. And David was still getting nick- names.

But by whatever name you knew David, you knew he had a big spirit, incredible loyalty, a great sense of humor, and a longing for adventure. His warmth and kindness were infectious, his friendships were deep and lasting- built from the ground up, founded well below the frost line. That was a good thing – for while David was easy-going, he was never particularly easy.

David’s great love was hunting, and if you ever had the pleasure of watching him drop the bead on a flushing grouse or passing duck, you knew why. He had an instinctual drive and focus when hunting- as if he were dependent on the meat for living. It was poetry in motion and he seldom missed. A fact he was all too happy to remind you of.

Not that the poetry didn’t turn tense at times. He knew just how he wanted the morning set of decoys, and wasn’t afraid to let you know it if you set the blocks a little too far, or a little too close. David had exacting standards for these rituals- seeking and finding a kind of perfection in this hobby that is so elusive in other parts of life.

In recent years – whether motivated by frugality or frontier spirit, David did rely on his fall harvest almost entirely to get him through the winter. It may have just been that he didn’t particularly like to shop for groceries. On a recent outing David and I went to Cub Foods for lunch and to make a deposit at the bank branch. It was his first time there, and he could not believe that there was a bank in the grocery store.

David sought perfection in his work at Camp Mishawaka. Over the years he set thousands of feet of dock- each year with a ruler in one hand (6 inches above the water) and a level in the other.

He had other rituals: shorts only between Memorial Day and Labor Day, no shaving from Labor Day till the end of deer season, a poppy on his hat for opening of fishing, among others.

But some of the rituals in David’s life were difficult, and try as he did to change these, and others tried to help him, he was not always successful. It was not always easy to watch, but it was even harder to turn away. So strong, so full of life, yet as human and as imperfect as any of us.

I was reminded of this not long ago when re-reading A River Runs Through It, by Norman McClean. He writes:

‘Each one of us here today will at one time in our lives look upon a loved one who is in need and ask the same question: We are willing to help, Lord, but what, if anything is needed. For it is true we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give, or more often than not, the part we have to give is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us. But we can still love them- we can love completely without complete understanding.

As David might have said-

“It was a pretty good gig”.

It was just too short.

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Camp Mishawaka Centennial Attendees

  • Austin Andersen
  • Everett Andersen
  • Heather Andersen
  • James Andersen
  • Joyce (Noonan) Andersen
  • Kyle Andersen
  • Quentin Andersen
  • Schuyler Andersen
  • Janet (Hubbard) Anderson
  • Keith Anderson
  • Keely Hanley-Anshel
  • Sean Anshel
  • John Ayres
  • Jack Babson
  • John Babson
  • John Babson
  • John Babson, Jr.
  • David Baines
  • Burton Barnes
  • Dixie Barnes
  • Sean Barrett
  • Jennifer (Moroney) Berens
  • Dan Beuthling
  • Cappy Black
  • Frank Black
  • Abby Bobich
  • Kathryn (Babson) Brewer
  • Margaret Burk
  • Kevin Byrnes
  • Sara (Gasseling) Byrnes
  • Jeff Cabalka
  • David Carlson
  • Blair Carothers
  • Norm Chimenti
  • B.J. Chimenti
  • Chad Chimenti
  • Derek Chimenti
  • Katie Chimenti
  • Mary Beth Chimenti
  • Kim Cohen
  • Andrew Cole
  • Stephen Cole
  • Jesse Conterato
  • Mark Cooley
  • Tracy Cooley
  • Ann (Kalamen) Coyhis
  • Jenni (Gasseling) Curran
  • Mary Jane Curran
  • Murphy Curran
  • Caroline Crain
  • Jackson Crain
  • William Crews
  • Andrew Davalos
  • Matthew Davalos
  • Sharon Davalos
  • Ashley Davis
  • Frank DeBoni
  • Gina Arquilla DeBoni
  • David Dimmel
  • Mary Diskey
  • Martha Doherty
  • Sarah Doherty
  • Wright Doss
  • David Drew
  • Gary Drew
  • M.A. Drew
  • Sandra Drew
  • Mary (Gross) Etherington
  • Matthew Etherington
  • Beth Bohon Erickson
  • Bob Erickson
  • Eva Erickson
  • Jon Erickson
  • Kevin Erickson
  • Martha Erickson
  • Norm Erickson
  • Steve Erickson
  • Grace Finley
  • Christopher Fulton
  • Johnnie Fulton
  • Amy Gardner
  • Jim Gardner
  • Katie Gardner
  • Will Gardner
  • Kris Horn-Ginthner
  • Addison Graul
  • Bill Graul
  • Christy Graul
  • Kylie Graul
  • Preston Graul
  • Robin Graul
  • Mary Grayson
  • Aidan Graziano
  • Andrew Graziano
  • Carly Graziano
  • Jessica (Schoon) Graziano
  • Andres Gutierrez
  • Liz (Coady) Halama
  • Mike Halama
  • Hillari Hanley
  • Mary (Myers) Hardgrove
  • Michael Hardgrove
  • Dan Harris
  • Craig Hauer
  • Blake Hiltabrand
  • David Hiltabrand
  • Lindsey Hiltabrand
  • Sean Hofer
  • Mat Holbrook
  • Will Hope
  • Glenn Hunter
  • Fred Jackson
  • Dana (Drew) Johnston
  • Jack Johnston
  • Molly Johnston
  • Stephanie (Swan) Johnston
  • Will Johnston
  • Brett Jones
  • Bill Kaune
  • Carrie (Christopherson) Kendrick
  • Larry Kent
  • William Kidd
  • Clarissa (Katz) King
  • Megan King (Colorado)
  • Megan King (Minnesota)
  • Ben King
  • Alan Knepler
  • Bob Knepler
  • Trish Kolkman
  • Charles Krause
  • Charles Krause IV
  • Timothy Krause
  • William Krause
  • Connie LaFond
  • Elizabeth LaFond
  • Marcel LaFond
  • Nick LaFond
  • Jim Larsen
  • Nick Larsen
  • Sonie Larsen
  • Anissa Leinbach
  • Chandler Leinbach
  • Dan Leinbach
  • Ellie Leinbach
  • London Leinbach
  • Marc Leinbach
  • Parker Leinbach
  • Elliot Levin
  • Nathan Levin
  • Kelly (Mason) Lichter
  • George Lottes
  • Kari Lottes
  • Morgan Lottes
  • Jimmy Lottes? – Let us know, Lottes’
  • Doug MacKenzie
  • Chris Malo
  • Tim Mason
  • Lee (Patterson) McIlvaine
  • Lorelei McIlvaine
  • Anna Louise McNamara
  • Charles McNamara III
  • IV McNamara
  • Jennifer McNamara
  • Libby McNamara
  • Mike McNamara
  • Olivia McNamara
  • Patrick McNamara
  • Steve McNamara
  • Steve McNamara, Jr.
  • Mary Kevin McNamara
  • Emily Menkedick
  • Barbara (Maher) Monroe
  • Dan Moroney
  • Jennifer (Schoon) Morris
  • Leslie Morris
  • Annie Myers
  • Drew Myers
  • John Myers
  • John Myers
  • Katie Myers
  • Lizi Myers
  • Mary Myers
  • Peter Myers
  • Hugh O’Bannon
  • Michael O’Bannon
  • Taylor O’Bannon
  • Bobbie Ogletree
  • Alison Olcott
  • Charlie Paige
  • David Paige
  • Jeanne Paige
  • Mo Paige
  • Nick Paige
  • Adam Papierniak
  • Dale Parent
  • Jeanne Parent
  • JoAnn (Westgate) Parent
  • Greg Parent
  • Allegra Parker
  • Bill Parker
  • Henry Parker
  • Amelia Parker
  • Valerie Passerini
  • Mona Patterson
  • Rick Patterson
  • Emily Peterson
  • Richard Peterson
  • Sharon Peterson
  • Brady Pilcher
  • Colin Pilcher
  • Lisa Pilcher
  • Rob Pilcher
  • Ryan Pilcher
  • Sarah (Myers) Pingree
  • Emily Post
  • John Post
  • Sarah (Stephenson) Post
  • Tyler Post
  • Julie Purdum
  • Steve Purdum
  • Alec Rooke
  • Kelley Ryan
  • Patrick Ryan
  • Anne (Stephenson) Saputo
  • Phil Schaff
  • Aileen Schneller
  • Leonard Schneller
  • Charley Shaw
  • William Shaw
  • Tom Slocum
  • Nancy Slocum
  • Phillip Slocum
  • Sarah Slocum
  • Stephen Snyder
  • Charlie Stanton
  • Greg Stanton
  • Phyllis (Cullen) Strobl
  • Ashling Struve
  • Clay Struve
  • Donna Struve
  • Sandy Swan
  • Sue Swan
  • Tim Taylor
  • Charles ‘Doc’ Thompson
  • David Thompson
  • Joe Thompson
  • Linda Thompson
  • Jim Townsend
  • James Turmail
  • Susan Turmail
  • Barton Vaughan
  • Elizabeth Vaughan
  • Joann Vaughan
  • Robert Vaughan
  • William Vaughan
  • Buzz Veasman
  • Kathy (Moroney) Veasman
  • Benjamin Weekly
  • Luke Weekly
  • Katie (Moroney) Wehling
  • Ben ‘Whitey’ Whitehill
  • David Whitehill
  • Lisa Whitehill
  • Dan Wilson
  • Holly Wilson
  • Kolten Wilson
  • Kris (Jackson) Wilson
  • Peyton Wilson
  • Stan Wilson

Centennial Staff

  • Mary Hill Achelpohl
  • Lisa Anderson
  • Mark Anderson
  • Steff Bobich
  • Ari Conterato
  • Breanna Craven
  • Kevin Curran
  • Robin Drucker
  • Erica Dunn
  • Anna Etherington
  • Rachel Felous
  • Danielle Freeman
  • Elisa Gutierrez
  • Katie Kent
  • Will Kent
  • Megan King
  • Meredith Latimer
  • Shea Lavalier
  • Tiffany Osterman
  • Stephen Ott
  • Abhijit Pradhan
  • Colin Smith
  • Phil Thouin
  • Nicole Weiss

List Updated 8/17

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A Note from Steve

Greetings from Camp Mishawaka,

I wasn’t looking for child rearing advice from the man who delivered sod to us this week, but that is what I think I got.

I had spent the better part of the weekend preparing the surface: grading, raking, re-grading and re-raking. You might say I became obsessed with it. Yet for all my work, I was left with a surface that had quite a few imperfections- a bump here, a low spot there. My main goal was achieved. The water was going to run away from the house, and as long as that was the case, I felt I could live with the rest of it.

When the sod arrived, the sod-farmer and delivery man helped me correct a few potential problems and offered the following advice: “Water it until it becomes saturated during the early stages. As the sod matures, slowly pull back on the watering so it can establish roots.” If I were to keep it over-saturated, it would never learn to live on its own.

What he did not tell me is how I will know when it is time to “pull back” on the watering. Sure, I can find lots of advice from the internet, the garden center, the neighbor, but it seems that I get as many different answers as people I ask. I have resolved just to somehow “know” when it is time.

I could not help but think of the parallels of my sod experience and being a parent, specifically, the parent of a child who is going off to camp this summer. In so many ways, I think that a Mishawaka experience can help children sprout their own roots, not physical roots necessarily, but emotional ones that can attach when it is time. The camp experience also provides children with a sense of healthy attachments away from home, taking root in soil that will nurture them for years to come.

Just like our sod, our children will always need our attention and the right mix of food, water, and sunlight, as well as a chance to grow. And just like with our sod, as a parent, I keep looking for the definitive manual, to no avail. So, Julie and I are left to trust our instincts, watch the signs, and adjust our approach as needed.

Thank you for sharing your child with us this summer and providing him or her with this opportunity to learn and grow. I used to think of it as a “leap of faith” (sending a child off to camp). More and more I realize it’s an act of love, instinctual but nonetheless a bit frightening.

We take our responsibility very seriously and look forward to the opportunities ahead this summer. As always, please feel free to contact me if you have any questions or if I can be of any help.

Oh, and if you know anything about growing sod, I am always happy to hear from you!

Best regards,

Steve

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Centennial Days

If you can’t be with us for the Centennial Celebration, we hope you can visit us sometime during the summer.  You are welcome to stop by anytime during the summer, but we are planning two “Centennial Days” during the summer camping sessions that will be focused on celebrating our 100th year.  On Sunday, June 27th and Sunday, July 25th we will have Centennial themed activities for the campers, as well as time for any visiting alumni to take tours, participate in activities, share a meal, and re-live their days at Camp Mishawaka.  We may even make you tell a story about one of your camp memories!  If you would like to attend or want more details, please call or email the Camp office.

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Camp Mishawaka Photos – 100 years

We recently uploaded over 1,000 Camp photos by decade from the last 100 years. You can view them at Mishawaka’s Web Albums

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Camp Mishawaka on YouTube

Check out Mishawaka archival videos! We will be adding more in the coming months.

http://www.youtube.com/campmishawaka

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Camp Mishawaka Winterized

See photos of Camp Mishawaka in the winter.

Camp Mishawaka February 9 2010
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