“Most of those who went to the “Live-Y’ers” in Bay City tried Maqua later,” said one of the self-described precocious campers, “and I had my first introduction to camp at aged ten in 1959. I liked my first session and since I was an only child, I liked the chance to meet new friends. I was a lonely child and had never really been part of a group, but I went for one week. I had difficulty making friends, since I was “overly brainy” and had hung out with adults in my parent’s clothing store. I was not very well-socialized, and had interests that were more adult than my friends.

“I was trouble, though.  I was very verbal as a pre-teen. I didn’t fit in with the younger girls. I was into studying and advanced reading. So, instead of hanging out with the girls my age, I was asking the college girls about their classes and studying. That didn’t go over too well with some of the physical education majors who were counselors there, who were no match for me. They thought I was messing with their heads, and they would complain about me.  Since I was one of those kids in school who was into reading to the exclusion of sports and getting along with people, the director finally suggested that I needed to be on their side!”

“So, the following year, I became a kitchen aid. It was great. All I had to do was bus a few tables and my fees were paid. I can still remember there was an Italian cook in the kitchen that summer.”

“I learned to choose my battles, and the director, who was Dorthe Balaskas at the time, handled me just fine. She commanded respect and had great composure, but was very low key. As I grew older, I learned how my inner processes and intellect worked and the gap closed, and I realized there were many more out there that were much more intelligent than I was!”

Carrie Norris started her first year as an eight- year old in 1972 and went for one week, but the following year she stayed for two weeks. “The first year I was there I tried to pull the “My Mom is President” card,” she laughed. “I was homesick and wanted to call my Mom, but was not allowed. It was my first time away from home.” (Her mother, Phyllis,had been President of the Board of Directors for the YWCA from 1970-1973.)

“I was used to being up there with my Mom and wandering around on my own. I think the counselors even had their own bathroom and when I was up with my Mom, I was allowed in, but there was a rude awakening when I couldn’t. I thought I should have special privileges. I was a snot,” she laughed. “That sense of ownership started young. I remember an old mimeograph with a handle and I would help my Mom in preparation for camp. So, I thought I could walk through the kitchen and do what I wanted as her daughter.”

Carol Wahl, horseback instructor (1974-75) recalled one camper who had dropped off by her parents while the rest of the family took off on a six-week motor home vacation. “She became my little project,” said Carol. “She would get up early and help me after breakfast and before her first class. She also helped me saddle the horses.”

Geraldine Prieskorn and Laya Hennes (1939) have been close friends since their camping days, but they hated each other when they first met at camp. Eventually they ended up in the same cabin and the friendship blossomed over time. “She was too bossy and I thought she didn’t like me, “said Laya. “Who knows—maybe it was that we were both leaders.”

“One of my counselors,” Billie (Karen) Kaiser, taught nature at camp and she ended up teaching gym in my junior high school in Bloomfield Hills. I remembered her from camp and she remembered me, but for some reason she never liked me. I guess it was because I was a little rebel, but loved camp. I can still remember walking around there,” said Cindy Morrison (1960).

There were girls who did not fit in either due to personalities, or looks, and little girls could be mean. Cynthia Gregory recalled a girl in her hut in the sixties who was just plain annoying, but they ended up friends. Jennifer Fenton recalled a girl who was made to feel like an outcast in the seventies, who had one hand with no fingers. The experience taught her to be more compassionate and understanding.

Did you ever feel like you did not fit in? If so, what made the difference if your outlook changed?