Father's Day and Camp

I have the privilege of getting all ACA’s email and communications and I do everything I can to ensure that I’m caught up on what’s happening. I feel very fortunate to have a relationship with ACA, an organization whose mission I truly believe in.

This week is “Father’s Day,” my first as a father. Since ACA’s Public Service Announcement (PSA) a couple weeks ago – “Because of Camp…” - I’ve been reflecting on what Camp and Father’s Day mean to me.

For those who don’t know my Dad, Wally Wirick, has been in the camping business for as long as I can remember. My first job was washing dishes at camp. Since then, I’ve had many, many camp jobs and even better camp memories.

However, this weekend, as we all say “Happy Father’s Day” to our Dads, I thought I’d share the camp experience that has meant the most to me.

My parents, like many before and many since, separated when I was in second or third grade. As a young kid, I had a hard time figuring out what happened and why Dad was living far away. As time passed, the daily interaction with Dad got less and less and when we did see him, it was always movies, parks and fun and games, but not much understanding.

Although we lived in the San Bernardino Mountains, my school had a week of Outdoor Education for all 5th graders. But, when my 5th grade rolled around the camp we were supposed to go to abruptly closed. We were told we couldn’t go this year and that all that jogging we had been doing for months in our jog-a-thon would go to something else.

Upon hearing this news, I raised my hand and told the teacher that my Dad was a Camp Director and maybe we could use his camp.

Dad made it happen. His camp didn’t have OE, but he put together a barebones team and somehow got us through the five miles of dirt road (that was muddy from the snowmelt and the buses constantly got stuck) to camp.

It is not that Dad and I hung out all week…he was busy running a camp. But, what I remember seeing was that Dad was providing a great experience for me, and my friends and all the other kids who where there. I remember looking around and thinking that he does this for all the kids who live down the hill. It was important work.

Camp helped me reconnect with my Dad. When—of course—he embarrassed the hell out of me at camp fire, I remember feeling as connected to him as the days when he would come home from work find his little tow-headed kid with a glove, baseball and an extra glove, dying for a game to catch.

As my first Father’s Day quickly approaches, I wonder what role camp will have on my relationship with my son Henry.