Ahoy, Dear Readers. I’m back in dry dock. And I’m happy to report that my annual visit to Camp Ojibwa in Eagle River, Wisconsin was its usual blast.
Of course, there were non-stop activities from the moment we threw our bags in our cabins.
The weather was hot, hot, hot and Catfish Lake felt like a bathtub. So getting out of my city clothes, into a bathing suit and down to the waterfront ASAP was the first order of business.
And that’s the last thing I remember. I was instantly caught up in the whirlwind that is known as “Post Camp.”
I’ve written about this wonderful experience before. (If you’re new to the blog, read all about it here.) But suffice it to say, that Post can be likened to a landlocked cruise- if a cruise was ever this much fun.
At Post Camp you can:
Sail, play tennis, bike, hike, water ski, fish, tube, play baseball, basketball, do the climbing wall, play golf, do arts and crafts, put on skits, make campfires, roast marshmallows and play poker after dark. (If you’re a grown up.)
Or
You can work.
(Kenny’s knotty pine office)
Or
You can chill out and watch the world slow down and let your mind drift lazily along.
The main thing about Post Camp is that you get to chose the tempo along with your lanyard rope color. It’s up to you- although Mother Nature plays a role here- to decide what the day’s fun schedule should be.
But there is one venue at Post camp that really makes it special for me.
The dining hall.
Promptly ay 8:30 a.m. Reveille is sounded over the PA system. Then the troops happily convene from all over the campus for breakfast.
You name it, they got it. From homemade oatmeal to lox and bagels to eggs and pancakes to banana bread and fruit to dry cereal and…
You get the picture. Anything you want.
I usually opt for a banana and a cup of hot cocoa. (Remember, I’ve got to be in a bathing suit all day. No margin for error at my age. Plus there is another Catskills-size buffet coming promptly at 12:30.)
The morning then goes by in a flash, and before you know it, you’re trooping back in to the dining hall for lunch.
There is always a fabulous salad bar. Accompanied by great tuna salad, salsa and chips, there are soups, grilled cheese, pizza, hamburgers and hot dogs, Chinese chicken salad. The choices cater to everyone from vegans to carnivores.
And for dessert, fruit-laden, quivering jello (my favorite) and puddings- and other stuff I have forgotten.
After this feast, if the winds are right and the gusts are favorable, lunch is usually followed by a sail on Catfish Lake.
(I’m no Dennis Connor but I love it.)
At six o’clock dinner is served.
This is my biggest thrill. I get to eat dinner with someone. In fact, a whole lot of someones.
We had a great table this year. Denny and Sandy Rosen, Kenny and I, Burt- a friend of the Rosens- and his son, Jason. This was the nucleus of our group and they were all fun.
But frankly, I wouldn’t care what they were like. For one week a year I get the chance to expel the demon that plagues me in the barren wasteland post-divorce apocalypse that my life has become.
I hate eating dinner alone.
Let me repeat that.
I HATE EATING DINNER ALONE.
I can handle most of the culture shock of going from couplehood to Singleton with, if not aplomb, at least good-natured forbearance. When faced with the uncomfortable realities and loneliness of my status as a Minus One, I usually suck it up and tell myself, “You can do this, Ellen. Don’t be helpless.”
But the one bear I can never lick is eating dinner alone.
I do it a lot.
Yes, I have friends with whom I dine. And there is always my Ipad loaded with Netflix to keep me company if my social calendar is going through a dry spell.
But in the end, there are seven nights of the week and I’m dining chez moi for most of them.
But until the sentence of my solitary single servitude is over, dinner time at Post Camp is my hands-down favorite time of the day.
(Denny- Camp Director. Glenn- Waterfront Boss.)
Post Camp means no more eating alone. There is noise and camaraderie and banter and songs and cheers and laughter and bonhomie galore. I revel in it all.
And that ain’t all.
After dinner, just in case you’re still hungry, there is a phenomenon known as “Fourth Meal.”
At 9:15- right after the evening festivities- family talent show, bingo, a campfire- the dining hall comes to life one last time.
There are deli and cheese trays, fruit, pies, cakes and two hot entree choices. (By this time, I am usually either in a food or activity-induced coma and sometimes I show up and sometimes I pass out in my room.)
But comes the morning and I am up and at ’em and ready to start the fun cycle all over again.
Here at Post, you never dine alone.
Now take a quick look at the opposite of Camp Ojibwa.
I’m going back for seconds.
Truly a land cruise for all ages. Thank you Ellen for the ability to put in words what so many feel but don’t express. Post camp at Ojibwa is truly a timeless experience.
Denny Rosen
Thank you, Denny and Company, for making this week so very special. In the end, Post is all about the people- not the food. (Although I love that turkey dinner!) My regards to Chef Kyle.
Your list of activities is i pressive, but you forgot the zip line!, volleyball, minature golf, paddle boating, kayaking, canoeing, and my favorite two – reading and knitting. After 43 summers at Post, there are many activities that I have never done and will never do, but I will never be tired of being there. Camp is so much more than activities and food… it is the people and the spirit of the place. It doesnt matter if this is your first time at Post or your 43rd, you are one of the group, part of the Ojibwa Post Camp family. We are a big extended family who eat eat and play together one week of the year. We watch our kids and now our grandkids grow up and we ignore the years that we have accumulated. We can all be kids at heart at Post.
Vivian, thank you. I knew I had forgotten to mention all the things to do but you’ll have to forgive me. I’m still in a happy post camp daze. And you’re right. As I said to Denny, it’s all about people like you and your wonderful clan who make it so special. (And never forget Daphne.)
Ellen, I’m not sure why your post triggered this for me, and for your readers who have never experienced Ojibwa, the following might be meaningless, but for those who know the difference between the Warrior Courts and The Far Field, this is meant for you. the following song is called “You’ll Never Dine Alone …an ode to Post Camp” and is sung to the tune of “You’ll never Walk Alone.” With apologies to Sondheim and Bernstein…
You can sail by yourself
Or just sit by The Point
You can read at the beach alone,
At the end of the day
You can stuff your face,
Like a dog with an endless bone
Dine on, dine on
With friends by your side
And you’ll never dine alone,
You’ll never dine alone
When you walk up the road
Hold your head up high
As mosquitos buzz right by your ear
As you pass Cabin Twelve
There’s a green dining hall
Guaranteed to put pounds on your rear
Dine on, dine on, with friends by your side
And you’ll never dine alone.
You’ll never dine alone
At the end of the day,
When the trumpet sounds
Whether dry or perhaps even damp,
The buffet that you see
Makes you warm inside,
So you know you are at post camp,
Dine on, dine on,
With friends by your side
And you’ll never dine alone,
You’ll never dine alone
You’ll never dine alone.
I had NO idea that there was a song, Steve. Thanks for taking the time to clue me in. (And I’ll send your apologies to Rigers and Hammerstein.) Thanks!
To add to Vivian’s list: the 150 ft wall to scale, sunset pontoon cruises, lounging on floats, diving board antics, biking, dancing, barefoot water skiing (you can watch if not participate), nature viewing–those amazing Eagles & beautiful lilies–& unexpected naps not always in one’s “plan” & simply delicious.
Thank you for bringing this to life & inspiring me to remember!
I frankly love eating alone–maybe because it’s normally only about once or twice a week. But my opposite is not Camp Ojibwa–were the dinner companions see unparalleled, my daily meals cater to getting dinner for me & the kids on the table quickly–with meat & carbs often. Alone–& at Camp Ojibwa my food is what I want.
Oh, there is loon chasing too! I was terrified–lol! That was the moment I knew, as Vivian said, we are all like a big family lost in time!
I’m so grateful I had this experience!!
You were a fabulous addition to the Post Camp family this year, Jillana. From yoga to loons, you did it all. I got tired just listening to your schedule for the day. Thank you for these comments and looking forward to seeing you there next year. Om.
You sure know how to hurt a guy.Welcome back. I can tell you had a rotten time. Wish I could have been there. Ask your brother if they still have the Ojibwa braves. Alllan
I don’t have to ask. They still have them. Thanks, buddy. Come with us next year.
Thanks for the invite but I’m afraid my traveling days are over. I truly regret not having done this marvelous adventure when i was able to.However, it’s great just to hear your info. Allan
Well you’re always there in sprint, my friend. Glad you enjoyed the trip.
I’ll have to try this place known as Camp Ojibwa.
Thanks for the tip!!
You’re welcome. And if you want to know more about it, may I recommend a man named George Kerman who might be able to tell you a little more.