Gravy Days

July 16, 2024

If there is a thing such as certainty, we come as close to that sure thing in the last week of the session.  Boys are fully acclimated and, as one of them wrote in a letter home one time, “I still think of you a lot but I don’t miss you any more.” That’s pretty much where we stand as of this morning and trust me when I say this is a wonderful thing.

These are the “Gravy Days” of camp where your investment (which is exactly what it is) proves its worth in a large majority of cases.

“I will be getting my certification in such and such this morning and then getting ready for the dance with Merriwood tonight,” paraphrased one such confident lad just moments ago at breakfast.

When you look back over days upon days of photographs, you cannot but notice that many boys are doing things that you might be afraid to let him do on your watch.  But here, when we use the word “certify” we mean that a camper has demonstrated enough proficiency in a particular activity to do it on his own.  Supervised to be sure but not necessarily instructed.

Fishing certification, for example, gives the boy the privilege to go into the fishing room closet to get the rod and tackle box of his choosing and, while wearing a vest, to go on the dock and cast his line into the lake.  He knows how to do that safely as well as deal with tangles in the line and unhooking his catch without injuring the poor creature.  99% of Tarleton catches are tossed back into the lake.  “Let them grow bigger,” one angler explained to me.

The above paragraph describes what freedom means at Kingswood. But, with freedom comes major responsibilities.  Yesterday afternoon, I watched several vessels returning to the beach from  such locations down lake  as White Sands and Pirate Cove.  Most were manned by certified paddlers and to a person they understood their obligations to put away their gear.

One pair of canoers had a bit of difficulty in hoisting their craft back onto the rack. But they persisted and actually applauded themselves when the deed was done. This is what real freedom is all about – the whole deal from A to Z.

Back before my time at Kingswood, there was a mythical item called the “Gravy Boat.”  Owned by some generous man from far away, it was rumored to arrive at the camp dock every so often laden with candy.

A good story, but I prefer the “Gravy Days,” which are not just a tall tale, but without any real forethought on the part of the campers,  just happen!