Cabin Life

Why I Did Not Return To Camp #1

Published on by Kathy Baker

Many girls made a summer tradition of returning to Maqua, beginning at an early age, and aging out when they could no longer qualify. For others, it was not enough to be a camper, they aspired to be counselors, which extended their camp careers until college and beyond. Many just quit going and the reasons were as varied as their personalities!

“My Mom grew up in Bay City and she was a camper and a junior counselor. There is a photo somewhere of her with my Dad (when they were dating) on the lake. I went for two weeks the first time and after that, it was all summer,” said Cara Prieskorn (1966-71). “Susan, my Mom and I could never figure out why Matt and Becca didn’t like it as we did. My theory is that after they moved into the big house, the two of them didn’t want to leave their big house with their own rooms and bathrooms to go to an old camp.”

“I finally figured out my parents were taking really nice vacations while we were all at camp, so while my sisters were at Maqua and my brother was at Mahn-go-tah-see, they were off somewhere having fun without us,” said Julie Hutchins (1960). “I only went to Maqua one week that one summer and the rest of the time I was on vacation with my parents while my sisters were at camp! Years later when we all looked at the photo albums, my siblings wondered where I was in some of the photos, and I would say which state it was, and then remind them they were at camp.”

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What I Missed At Home #2

Published on by Kathy Baker

They missed family members, pets, and summers that continued on without them,  but those feelings were not so overwhelming that the girls wanted to return home. Some, like JoAnn Kern (1953,) said she was ready to go home after her two weeks at camp.  She always felt like she was missing out on her summer at Houghton Lake, where the rest of the family spent their time.

For Cara Prieskorn (1966-71), two weeks was an eternity. “I never felt like I missed anything while I was at camp, except maybe leaving a few boyfriends behind. Girlfriends moved in on them while I was gone. But, there was also a serial killer in Ann Arbor one summer and one of the girls had a sister at U of M. Supposedly she was asked if she wanted a ride by him and she turned him down.”

Funerals were missed. Nancy Keeler’s (1973-74) friend’s father died while she was at camp. Ann Meisel (1962-66) recalled a fellow camper whose brother died while she was at camp and she grieved with empathy, realizing he was the same age as her own brother.

Mary Jane Keschman (1944-55) and Linda Greenwald (1948-59) both lost their grandmothers while at camp. Linda hopped in her car around the 4th of July and drove home and back. Mary Jane’s family drove up in her last year and brought her home and back, so they were able to have closure with their funerals.

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What I Missed At Home #1

Published on by Kathy Baker

Aside from the usual bouts of homesickness, many of the girls missed some dramatic events at home or in their hometowns while they attended camp. The girls in hut nine expressed their views perfectly in the last edition of the “Loon” in 1950.

The first thing they would do when they got home; “Run and kiss our mothers, kiss our brothers, get a soda and go to the movies, jump in the tub, take the privilege of a clean bathroom, take a bath, take our dogs for a walk, give our parents the things we made for them, and open the car or bus door and get out.”

Mardi Jo Link (1973-78) missed her brother and her parents and although she was happy to see them, she admitted: “I was so involved in this absorbing place that I was sure home wasn’t continuing while I was there.”

“There was one family event that I missed while I was at camp,” said Helen McLogan (1972-74). “My first niece and nephew came into the family. I was eight and my oldest sister had adopted a little girl in May, unaware that she was already pregnant. My nephew was born in August. I can remember standing at reveille and someone ran out to tell me I had a phone call. I ran into the lodge and all day I was jumping up and down. I was so happy!”

The girls missed their pets and four of the campers had sad stories of their dogs while they were at camp, including Jane McKinley (1956-59). One of the summers when she returned home, she learned her dog had died. “It was a surprise to me, but I didn’t feel guilty that I wasn’t there. In the fifties’ we did not expect our parents to call us at camp. We wrote letters.”

Others like Kim Moore (1967-72) and Jennifer McLogan (1965-71) heard through the mail.  “The last summer Jennifer was at camp, her Irish Setter “Lassie” died. “My sister wrote me a letter at camp and told me that had to put our dog to sleep at sixteen years of age. I started to shake and ran to the pay phone to call home collect. It was very hard for me. I was so sad, but everyone in the lodge cheered me up.”

Kim Moore’s father wrote her a letter one summer to tell her that had put her German Shepherd down. “I had not expected it. I knew he was aging, but I wished they had told me before because I found out the plan was to do it while my sister and I were at camp to make it easier. I know it was a parent’s decision, but it didn’t make it any easier. I just remember for about two days crying at camp and they told me not to tell my sister.”

“The saddest thing that happened to me while I was away at camp was our parents got rid of our dog,” said Debi Gottlieb (1968+). “We had only had it several years, but I guess it was biting. I remember crying in the car when they told us. My feeling was, why couldn’t they have waited till we got home, but our parents felt it was best to do it while we were at camp. I wished I had been there for it.”

What did you miss while you were at home?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mixed Reactions–

Published on by Kathy Baker

 

Born in Flint, Sheryl Biesman was eight years old when she camped for the first time in 1973 and it closed before she could ever have a leadership position in 1978. Karen Selby was one counselor she could remember from that “wholesome camp” that closed with little fanfare to the campers who were there the last year, including Sheryl.

As part of the transformation from a girls’ camp to co-ed, Sheryl was thirteen and just becoming interested in boys. “My initial feeling was, they are invading my space,” said Sheryl, who recalled one drama girl moment when one of the boys liked someone else. “But, I don’t have strong memories of interacting with the boys at camp.”

“It was a very sad time for me. After the camp closed, I tried to go to another camp with my friend Diane. I remember I hated it. I only went one summer and it wasn’t Camp Maqua. We had to wear white. I was so distraught. I kept searching for something I had lost and was so disappointed. I am sad it didn’t work out. The experience taught me leadership. Many of my Jewish friends went to Jewish camps in Maine and elsewhere and had good experiences and ended up staying friends with people they met there. I guess I was just so emotionally attached at age thirteen to Maqua—“

“My Mom thinks I started going when I was eight, so that would be 1972, through the end, although she doesn’t remember me going that many years. I remember the last couple years were co-ed, “said Beth Phillips, who was disappointed that the boys were now a part of the camp, but admitted there were some cute counselors, and one in particular that took them on a nature hike in the woods.  “We took a trek through the backwoods that led to a secret area, which was off to the side of Chapel Hill. The counselors always tried to keep the boys and girls apart, and the boys had the cabins down the hill, while we were all up top. There were different activities when the boys came, but before that, we just used to sit at the campfire and holler at the boys across the lake.”

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Culture Of Change—

Published on by Kathy Baker

 

 

 

“I liked boys as a teen, and it wasn’t a dramatic change and it wasn’t better or worse, it was just changed. It had always been run by women and instead of strong, confident women, there were men in charge,” said Julie, who remembered Joe’s smile as he barked orders authoritatively.

Julie Bernard (1970-78) was not the first camper to talk about the change of culture at camp once it became a co-ed camp.  She recalled staff Joe Liberati, John Myers, and Ken Dike while she was there, who had positions as assistants or directors during this transitional time at camp. (When she looked back at those times with an adult eye, she viewed some of the behaviors by some of these young men as (perhaps) inappropriate, but did not go into detail.)

She described those last years at camp like the videos of today—instead of girls gone wild, it was campers gone wild. Couples sneaking off together; girls smoking in the Brownie–painting their nails after telling someone they were showering; and boys trying to “hook up” were a few of her memories of the changes from the uninhibited days of no bras and all girls. There were still dances with the boys, but they were not the boys from across the lake or Camp Iroquois, now they were at camp.

There was a huge uproar when one of the male directors (Ken or Joe) installed pins in the camp fireplace, by drilling holes into the rocks for rock climbing. Julie remembered the carabiners and ropes swinging from the beautiful lodge fireplace as they practiced their climbs and repelling.

“I have phenomenally good memories of Camp Maqua,” said Nancy Neumyer (1975-78), but, the dynamic of the camp changed when the boys came. It made me more self-conscious and I felt like I couldn’t be myself. At that time, I was at a Catholic all girls school and I was extremely shy, and it wasn’t that I felt negative about the boys there, but it was more difficult to be there when the boys were there. I never went back after my last year. I think the director’s name was Mel and there was a senior counselor from Chicago, and he was Hawaiian.”

“Even raising the flag in a mixed camp worried me. I was worried about my hair, blemishes, how I looked and if anyone would see me crying over a song we sang. I was fourteen and fifteen. I do remember that there was less structure that year and rules were more relaxed and we went down to the lake after hours, but there was no more freezing bras and sending them up the flagpole for pranks with boys around.”

Brooke Sauve (1949-51) sent her daughter to camp in the mid-seventies, and still has the letter she wrote begging to come home because she hated it so much. “When I was at camp, it was very organized and we were all kept busy with activities. She said all she did was lay around on her bunk. I guess you didn’t have to do activities if you did not want to. It was different. Everything had changed.”

What culture of change did you observe with the introduction of male staff and campers?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Separated By The Transition

Published on by Kathy Baker

 

Amy Falvey began camping at Maqua in 1970, when she was nine years old, and finished her last year in 1978 when the camp closed. Her big sister Betsy was her impetus for attending, and every year the sessions increased with her increased enjoyment of her experiences.

“The first year it was two weeks, then three weeks, then two weeks, then four weeks and then eight weeks,” she laughed, recalling that is how she remembered the years, by the amount of weeks she attended. Then their mother passed away and she skipped 1976 and 1977, returning in 1978 as a counselor.

“Both camps were struggling financially and Maqua had the better physical facility, so the two boards merged their camps, or that was my understanding. It started out badly from the minute we met at the Bay City YWCA building staging area to bus to camp. I thought this is not good. They kept changing the time we were to leave to bus up to camp and many of us had been to camp and knew the way. There must have been some internal problem, but we could see no reason why we were not on our way. It started off negatively and then when we all got to camp, we could see it hadn’t been taken care of,” said Amy.

“They hired an interesting bunch of guys and the rest were women. It was a goofy bunch. It felt like they were invading our space. It was just a weird dynamic. One director named Meg changed the colors of the staff shirts, so we were all separated in a way by our colors. Before it went co-ed all the staff wore white shirts with green trim. Now the administration wore red, the junior counselors were in navy and the counselors were in light blue. It felt splintered. There was no unity from day one. There were cliques of boys and cliques of girls and none of the girls wanted to hang out with the boys and the sense of family that we once enjoyed was lost. When I drove out of camp that last day, I was so glad to be gone and it was sad. I just thought get me out of here. The Karma was awful.”

“Nothing about it was the same. It had gone co-ed with Camp Iroquois from Sand Lake and the whole dynamic changed,” said Amy. ““I might have burned that shirt from my last year, but I still have the colored photo of all the co-ed campers and pristine copies of the “Loon” newsletters and every photo in my scrapbook.”

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