I am posting this post post Post.
Nope, that’s not a misprint. But in case you don’t speak Ojibwan, I’ll translate. I just got back from seven glorious days spent living it up at Camp Ojibwa- the boys’ summer camp in Eagle River, Wisconsin.
If you are not familiar with the phenomenon that is Camp Ojibwa, I suggest that you read my post called Rite of Passage. This will catch you up on everything you need to know.
But you may not know that after the boys depart, the director, Denny Rosen, and his adorable wife, Sandy, keep the place going for two sessions of “Post (Season) Camp.” This way entire families- kids of all ages- can enjoy the beauty of the North Woods, softball under the stars, every waterfront activity known to man and four (!?!) incredible meals a day.
Your Camp Ojibwa Post experience begins on the drive up to Eagle River. As you go further and further north, your car turns into a DeLorean time machine and suddenly you’re twelve and Blood, Sweat & Tears is on the radio. The scenery and architecture is pretty much untouched around here. The Triangle Motel sign welcomes the weary traveler- just like it did in 1967. But keep going.
And when your car turns onto the crunchy gravel driveway, suddenly you’re transported into a special place where time and distance don’t matter. The outside world fades away and it’s summer forever.
For his forty-seventh consecutive summer, my brother Kenny is here. But now bunking in Cabin Twelve with his son, daughter-in-law and their three little girls. (BTW, Delia, the baby, born about two weeks ago, has the honor of being the youngest camper ever to make it to Post- so far.)
I was stashed in the Dads’ Lodge- along with a mom and her twin nine year old boys, a dad and his teenaged daughter and a mom, dad and a seventeen month old baby boy- who was miffed that he wasn’t the youngest camper.
I had a bed with a deer’s head blanket, an “Alexander’s Pizza Parlor, Eagle River” bumper sticker on the bunk frame above me, a basketball under my bed and an outlet for my hairdryer, iPad and iPhone chargers. What more did I need?
And then it was time to hit the mess hall. Turkey dinner with all the trimmings. My favorite. Good thing too- because it had to hold me until the 9:15 p.m. Fourth Meal.
(A groaning sideboard sidebar about the food: So delicious, so plentiful and so often that I was reeling just from the concept of jambalaya at nine thirty at night. The nighttime snack consists of fruit, cheese and cold cut platters, apple, cherry, blueberry or strawberry pies, homemade chocolate chip cookies, ice cream sundaes and two hot entrees. The first night I had my choice between brats or cheeseburgers.
Since I had just eaten a full turkey dinner at six, I was unmoved by the largesse of the larder. But the old pros had their rhythm down, and moved around the buffet with a will.
However, with a few exceptions, this crowd was fit. Men, women and kids were all in good shape. A gal was training for the Chicago Marathon. One guy was soon off to scale the Matterhorn. Many, like my brother, still play competitive hard ball or lots of tennis. This crew could eat four times a day and be no worse for wear. And there was always the amazing salad bar when/if they hit the food wall.)
I was beat, and flashlight in hand, found my way back to the Dads’ Lodge and didn’t move ’til Reveille the next morning. And so it began.
The weather was promising but a little chilly. No problem. I donned a bathing suit and tee shirt, followed by a fleecy REI warmup suit. And as the sun blazed hotter with each passing hour, I would simply remove a layer. For the next five days, I was the Dita Von Teese of Catfish Lake.
It was too early to hit the waterfront so I wandered over to the Arts and Crafts Center. There I met Tom, AKA “Crafty,” from the UK. King of glue, tie dye, beads, water colors, pipe cleaners, mask-making, and lanyards. I was literally shown the “zipper stitch” ropes by pre-teen Isabel and junior miss, Romy. Thanks, guys.
(Lanyard Delivery Status: To all of you that I rashly promised a lanyard- forget it. The weather was too gorgeous to weave anything. I made myself a third of one. I’ll show it to you some day.)
The rest of the day went by in a blur of activity. I don’t remember what I did – but it was fun.
I do remember the campfire.
After dinner, all the families and staff were summoned to big fire pit complete with totem pole. There, Denny poignantly held forth about the spirit of Camp Ojibwa and the memory of its legendary founder, Al Schwartz. And then it was time for the staff to make its formal introductions.
The American counselors, for the most part, had gone back to the real world. (Although my nephew, Matt- himself a counselor this summer- had hung around to be with us and oversee a few tennis tourneys.)
But the skeleton crew that remained was fantastic. International and able, veterans of many Ojibwa summers, they efficiently ran everything from the waterfront to the climbing wall.
These guys drove the Nautiques and oversaw the tubing and waterskiing, they took people out night-fishing and brought them- and their catch- safely back. They also bussed tables and dished up the food in the mess hall.
From Icelandic Herman to the Boys from Belize, they made Post Camp possible. (And a special shout out goes to the handsome Aussie contingent. Thanks for the “The Castle” movie chatter, mates. Good on ya!)
Then each family designated a spokesperson to introduce his clan to the rest of us. This was a revelation to a newbie like me. I thought I’d be the odd man out. I hadn’t gone to Ojibwa when I was a kid- because I was a girl kid. And I thought that every family at Post would be old campers.
Many were. But some families had “married into” the camp. Or they had friends who had enticed them up there and now came on their own. Some had had no prior affiliation at all.
Around the fire we went, telling who we were, what we did IRL and how many years we had been coming to Ojibwa.
Of course, many people already knew each other. But by the time the campfire was over, after the good-natured razzing and teasing, we were now all friends.
Things I did on my Summer Vacation:
1. Helped a little boy turn on a stubborn shower.
2. Pushed my nieces Eliza and Susannah on the swings.
3. Built a sandcastle.
4. Went to the Vilas County Fair
5. Found the Big Dipper
6. Watched an eagle soar to its nest
7. Joined the Kramer Family Flash Mob
8. Heard the haunting cry of a loon.
The week flew by. But before I left Chicago, I had been a little worried that Post Camp would make me use muscles I haven’t employed in awhile. I’m no jock, and I was afraid that all that exercise would leave me sore.
But the muscle that got the biggest workout was my heart.
It ached nonstop from the loveliness of watching fathers and daughters singing and dancing together, sisters and brothers throwing a ball, grandparents playing a few sets of tennis with the grandkids, new friends and old laughing together under the Pleiades.
And my heart grew bigger from all that exercise, too.
For that’s where I’ve stored all the precious memories of Post Camp.
Until next year.
Wish you were here.
Nice to have you back, Princess Little Writing Scribe.
We did the post-Camp at (rival camp alert!) Menominee three years running until Adam became a full-time soccer camp attendee and Carey discovered Birch Knoll. Though we all had fun, I discovered from my time in the hotel business that one could actually receive a bed with back support while on vacation and did not need to walk in the dewy mornings outside to take a shower.
In my business, I pride myself on NOT being a “hotel snob” (too many soccer tournaments at the “Come On Inn, Gas Station and Diner” in Bumfuk, Illinois (look it up in Google Maps) convinced me of that); however, I may be a hotel ROOM snob. That is, on vacation, I actually want one.
I do, however, miss the Home Run Derby contest on the kids’ ball field, where, today, I’d probably be lucky to hit a pop-up over second base.
This is a nice nostalgia piece and makes me wonder whatever happened to Spin and Marty and the guys!
Nice to be back, Big Chief Fill The Beds. And thanks for this comment. We lived on the same street as Allan Wasserman when we were kids and I’ve got many Menominee readers who will dig it.
As for Spin and Marty, please read my February 7 post “Who’s The Leader of the Gang.” I loved Spin. Sigh…
Going to Post is the highlight of my summer. Seeing my granddaughters enjoying Ojibwa is incredible. Thanks to Denny and Sandy for making it possible!!
And thanks to you, Kenny. You made my Post camp experience possible.
Thanks Ellen for your eloquence in describing your Post Camp experience. Readers can contact me at campojibwa@aol.com if they would like information for 2014. Time to wake this weeks’guests. “Rise and shine sleepy birds, it’s another beautiful day at Ojibwa.”
Glad you approve. See you next year! And thanks.
Welcome Home Ellen…you just described the best of camp days! Loved reading this post.
After being a 10 year camper at Agawak 50 years ago, I still have the fondest memories etched in my heart. Camp days were the best days and the friendships have lasted a life time. I can’t wait to introduce my granddaughters to everything beautiful that the North Woods have to offer. No matter what our age, we are all kids at heart.
Thanks, Lil. And you’re right. You’re never too old or too young to love camp.
Dear Ellen,
SOOO nice to have seen – and now hear from sage sister from the Chicago Blackhawk Tribe.
The photo of Lake Catfish was a nice touch to your description of Camp Ojibwa.
Your blog was great at showing some of the charm of Eagle River. I am glad you made it to the Vilas County Fair. My sister-in-law won 4 blue Ribbons for her vegetables and flowers. If you go next year, make sure to get into the town on a Thursday early evening for the street dance with live music and dancing near the ice cream parlor and fudge shop! Truly 1950’s.
Many camps have gone by the wayside in the Northern Woods, but traditions like post have kept Ojibwa a vital piece of summers in Wisconsin.
So glad that you and Kenny made a detour to visit me on Gordon Lake.
Go in peace,
Squaw 39 and holding
How Squaw 39 And Holding! Thanks for the smoke signal. And thanks for being a great guide. Eagle River Kenny and I might have to call you Sacajawea!
And thanks for noticing the photo. I am so proud of that. I am the world’s worst photographer but I think I got the mirror quality of Catfish Lake that day.
See you up there next year- if our paths don’t cross before.
Well expressed Ellen! I’m a bit jealous/nostalgic as I was when I read Rite of Passage and commented about my Menominee days (BTW, I think I might like this Shindler guy for both his camp affiliation & his room preference). Also, BS & T were playing when I was 18! Nice post kiddo.
Thanks, Gary. Glad you approve. Did you know a guy from Morton Grove named Mark Roth? He went to Menominee but he’s been up at Post for many years.
And Michael Shindler is a great guy. You three could reminisce.
Don’t think so but that’s no longer foolproof
Awesome post about post!! So well done! Great seeing you and we are already looking forward to 2014!!!
I ALMOST CRIED READING THE POST. AS YOU KNOW I PROBABLY WAS THE YOUNGEST CAMPER EVER AT OJIBWA. SPENT TWO WEEKS THERE WHEN I WAS 5 1/2, AND THEN IT WAS FULL LOAD FOR THE REST OF MY YEARS. YOU BROUGHT BACK SO MANY LOVING MEMORIES AND OF COURSE I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE TO EXPERIENCE THOSE FEELINGS. WE WILL HAVE TO HAVE LUNCH AGAIN FOR MORE OF THIS OLD MANS REMINISCING. THANKS A MILLION. ALLAN
Thanks, buddy. Glad I brought back some happy times. And yep, lunch soon.
What you’re describing, Ellen, is why I haven’t missed a year since 1956!! Even while I was in the service during the “Nam” years, I made it a point to accumulate my leave days to visit camp.
And, it seems you don’t speak of your world jaunts like you do of your time at Ojibwa!
Time spent at Camp Ojibwa is very special. It’s like Shangri-la. Things never change and people don’t grow old there. In fact they become younger. Kenny told me how you guys goof around on your visits up there and how much fun it is. I love many places on earth- Aspen, Florence, London, Winnetka, Hong Kong… But the camp experience is just in a class by itself.
Thanks for getting to me today, Bernie. We missed you!
I loved your post about Post camp. It was quite a remarkable time. Loved reading your beautiful words and detailed description, it was right on the money!!! Looking forward to next year already! Well done, Ellen!!!
So you see us all together there, do you? That’s really good to know! Thanks for the thumbs up, Lisa. Now what is the capital of Swaziland?
Love this! One of my favorite weeks of the summer!
Glad you liked it. So many great memories. I’ll never forget Eliza disco dancing/hula hooping or Suze going through the buffet line herself! And thank you, Delia, for being such a good girl at dinner every night. See you next year-and sooner.
Great post! This perfectly depicted our experience at post-camp. Thank you for putting into words the best summer we’ve ever had.
Thanks, buddy. Glad you approved. Another pro’s opinion means a lot to me. (Andres writes a column from a teen’s p.o.v.for the Chicago Tribune.)
Say hi to the clan from all of us.
Great read Ellen. Wonderful sentiment, you really hit the mark. Our family has been blessed with 17 straight years of experiencing this blissful reenergizing reboot, and we certainly are all the better for it. Enjoyed meeting you and our conversation. See you next year.
Thanks, Marc. Your family is a wonderful advertisement for post camp. (And tell the ladies that I’m glad that they like that I rock the gray hair.). Be well. And see you next year for sure!