Tonight, at camp, the evening activities highlighted both where we have been and where we are now. The evening meal had a theme-- counselors, staff and associated families were grouped by the state/country from whence they hail, and were requested to dress up in clothes indicative of said region, and/or make a skit or presentation touting such areas, sometimes at the gentle expense of the rival regions or countries. (The Ohio vs. Michigan one was particularly good)
Since the camp photographer is now here with us, there is a good degree of possibility that a certain Texan was photographed while wearing an entirely-too-small red cowgirl hat, a la Jessie from "Toy Story". I shall have to hack his files and make sure those do not see the light of day....
Other than showing once again that we have almost as many Brits here at this camp as we do Yanks, it was fun to see the various groups showing their colors, or their native duds, or the completely-made-up-citizenship approach (I'm talking to you, Mr. Holcomb from Sveeden). Once again, the Brits shone with a proliferation of Union Jacks, football kits, and a sign held by the lead person asking for an "orderly queue" to be formed.
After the meal, we moved to the campfire grounds, and the night transitioned. It was no longer about where we came from... this is about where we are. Right now. For these two months.
For me, as I am sure it is for many others, the true start of camp begins with this first campfire. Allow me to set the stage for you:
[caption id="attachment_318" align="alignleft" width="300"]
Sunset gleaming on the Saco River[/caption]
This view is the heart and soul of Indian Acres.
[caption id="attachment_320" align="alignright" width="300"]
A little fire, friends, family, and fun....[/caption]
As the giant bonfire is lit, we see many of the usual suspects wander out to regale their wares of stories, songs, and presentations: the SNL-inspired IA Update, wonderful music by our many talented musicians, testimonies and silly skits. We even learned how to say "I love camp" in Hungarian.
And, in what I am pretty sure is a first for campfire, even over all these years... there was a power paraglider who flew right down the Saco, just a few feet over the surface of the water, his engine overpowering the first musical act. I was too slow to pull the phone out to record it for posterity, alas.
At times, several folks talked about the long history of this little place, as we sat on the (literal) roots of the pine trees and the (figurative) roots of the many people who have sat here before. References such as these can often be trite, unless they are really true. And I swear you can sit here and feel the old blood of this camp flowing through this little glen where we light a bonfire, sing songs, and make gentle fun of ourselves and each other.
[caption id="attachment_319" align="aligncenter" width="300"]
One the many talented permutations of musicians here. The man on the left is a remarkable Liverpudlian... I don't think they've invented the instrument he can't play....[/caption]
In the "Wheel of Time" series of fantasy novels by Robert Jordan (and Brandon Sanderson), one of the highest honors that can be granted to someone is for another person to proclaim "Tai'shar" followed by the region they come from... in the made-up language of the books, it means "True Blood"... a character will say this when someone has fought valiantly or shown great honor or respect to duty. Anyone who has read these books would recognize the term instantly. It is based on the idea that the truest blood of the old blood runs strong in this individual.
The old blood sings in this place, and in these people. Many of them are IA/FA, blood and soul.
Tai'shar Indian Acres! Tai'shar Forest Acres!
Goodnight.... and safely rest.
Since the camp photographer is now here with us, there is a good degree of possibility that a certain Texan was photographed while wearing an entirely-too-small red cowgirl hat, a la Jessie from "Toy Story". I shall have to hack his files and make sure those do not see the light of day....
Other than showing once again that we have almost as many Brits here at this camp as we do Yanks, it was fun to see the various groups showing their colors, or their native duds, or the completely-made-up-citizenship approach (I'm talking to you, Mr. Holcomb from Sveeden). Once again, the Brits shone with a proliferation of Union Jacks, football kits, and a sign held by the lead person asking for an "orderly queue" to be formed.
After the meal, we moved to the campfire grounds, and the night transitioned. It was no longer about where we came from... this is about where we are. Right now. For these two months.
For me, as I am sure it is for many others, the true start of camp begins with this first campfire. Allow me to set the stage for you:
[caption id="attachment_318" align="alignleft" width="300"]
Sunset gleaming on the Saco River[/caption]This view is the heart and soul of Indian Acres.
[caption id="attachment_320" align="alignright" width="300"]
A little fire, friends, family, and fun....[/caption]As the giant bonfire is lit, we see many of the usual suspects wander out to regale their wares of stories, songs, and presentations: the SNL-inspired IA Update, wonderful music by our many talented musicians, testimonies and silly skits. We even learned how to say "I love camp" in Hungarian.
And, in what I am pretty sure is a first for campfire, even over all these years... there was a power paraglider who flew right down the Saco, just a few feet over the surface of the water, his engine overpowering the first musical act. I was too slow to pull the phone out to record it for posterity, alas.
At times, several folks talked about the long history of this little place, as we sat on the (literal) roots of the pine trees and the (figurative) roots of the many people who have sat here before. References such as these can often be trite, unless they are really true. And I swear you can sit here and feel the old blood of this camp flowing through this little glen where we light a bonfire, sing songs, and make gentle fun of ourselves and each other.
[caption id="attachment_319" align="aligncenter" width="300"]
One the many talented permutations of musicians here. The man on the left is a remarkable Liverpudlian... I don't think they've invented the instrument he can't play....[/caption]In the "Wheel of Time" series of fantasy novels by Robert Jordan (and Brandon Sanderson), one of the highest honors that can be granted to someone is for another person to proclaim "Tai'shar" followed by the region they come from... in the made-up language of the books, it means "True Blood"... a character will say this when someone has fought valiantly or shown great honor or respect to duty. Anyone who has read these books would recognize the term instantly. It is based on the idea that the truest blood of the old blood runs strong in this individual.
The old blood sings in this place, and in these people. Many of them are IA/FA, blood and soul.
Tai'shar Indian Acres! Tai'shar Forest Acres!
Goodnight.... and safely rest.
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