A Place I felt Safe and Secure as a Child

My sense of freedom came from Camp Easton for Boys, a summer camp my family owned in Northern Minnesota, just outside of Ely Minnesota.

Every summer we would pack our suburban so that every inch was taken and my two sisters, brother and parents would wave goodbye to our friends and the hot city.
The camp sits on Little Long Lake, a sliver of a lake, sandwiched between two larger lakes with only a few cabins at the far end. We had the lake and wilderness to ourselves and most people couldn’t even find the place.

We arrived right after school in early June when it was so quiet, the only movement was the breeze and a few animals lurking around. The only sign of life from the winter was deer and bear poop with occasional tracks. The leaves were just bursting from the buds and the lake, being spring fed was just a bit icy for a swim.

Once we arrived, I would spend hours wandering around the camp, making sure everything was exactly as I left it with exception of winters mark. When the sun shined everything would sparkle and you could almost see the leaves and flowers bloom before your eyes. It seems as if the forest was shaking off the cobwebs for a good stretch.

Up here at camp we were away from the outside world. No TV, minimal radio from WELY and no newspapers except on Sunday. The big excitement from the outside world was when I received a handwritten letter. The joy I felt when looking into my old wooden mail slot, my name clearly marked in gorgeous cursive letters from the hand of my Aunt Karen. I would peer into that box and there they were letters from my friends. The outsides were always decorated with notes and stickers. It’s such a simple thing but I can still feel the excitement. We got them at lunch and then I had the whole rest period to read through them and look at pictures my friends would send. I always had more fun than my friends from the information described in the letters. Sometimes they would include a magazine article for me to read.

I could go on forever talking about camp, I met so many amazing people who were funny and introduced me to books I never thought I would read to bands I still love today. I learned about other places in the US and the world and began to crave traveling there. Here I had my own schedule as did what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. All I needed to do was show up to eat and sleep.

In this place there was no pressure for me to be anything other than who I wanted to be at that moment. I always had little crushes on certain campers or counselors but no one gave me bad advice on how to act, I just did what I thought was right or felt right. For the most part the crushes liked me as well. No one told them they cannot like a girl who likes sports and to run and play in the woods. I was not judged by the clothes I was wearing or the makeup that covered my face. Boys wanted me to be fun and strong. Back then fun, strong and smart was attractive to boys and young men. They didn’t give a hoot how big my boobs were just that I had them and they liked that I was different but yet so much the same. I was respected for my knowledge of the activities and how to perform them and if a boy needed my help, he asked with no shame or fear. Boys were allowed to shed a tear on the last night in front of the camp fire because everyone felt the same about leaving and no one would make fun of you. It felt so much more pure than things do now. So many kids are clouded by unimportant issues and they are required to grow up fast, show no emotion, fight till the death to get what they want and destroy everyone and everything just to make a buck. It never felt like that back then. Kids had lofty aspirations but they had a way to get there that did not cause pain. Money was important but having a good life was what we talked about.

It was safe, secure and exhilarating. I can still dive deep into those feelings if I give myself the opportunity to think about it. I tread through those memories holding onto beautiful pieces of friendship, love, peace, laughs and the quiet forest.