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Daniel Carpenter Sr. Memorial Service

Dan Carpenter Sr., assistant director 1978 to 1990, at his desk.
Dan Carpenter Sr., assistant director 1978 to 1990, at his desk.

The Memorial Service to celebrate the life of Daniel Carpenter, Sr. will take place in the Phillips Stevens Chapel on the campus of the Williston Northampton School, Easthampton, MA, at 1:00 PM, on Sunday, October 20, 2013. Speakers will include representatives from the family, Williston, and Keewaydin. Following the service, all are welcome to attend a reception where people will have the opportunity to socialize, reminisce and speak with Dan’s family and others.

Knowing how many lives Dan touched, the School requests that you please RSVP (with the total number attending) so that we can prepare appropriately.  Please contact Liz Cheney ([email protected], 413-529-3074) by October 14th.

 

Songa Staff Hike Long Trail

This fall five Songadeewin staff have hit the trail, hiking the oldest long-distance hiking trail in the United States. The Long Trail runs the length of Vermont; beginning near Massachusetts and ending on the border of Canada, totaling 272 miles. These women are only part way through their journey, with 134 miles to go! To see more photos and check up on the status of these intrepid hikers see Songa’s Facebook page!

Ella Davidson, Lolo Cappio, Charlotte Gutfreund, Emily Burton, Tacie Moskowitz
Ella Davidson, Lolo Cappio, Charlotte Gutfreund, Emily Burton, Tacie Moskowitz

Remembering Dan Carpenter Sr.’36

Dan Carpenter Sr., assistant director 1978 to 1990, at his desk.
Dan Carpenter Sr., assistant director 1978 to 1990, at his desk.

It is with great sadness that we announce Dan Carpenter Sr.’s (’36) passing on August 21, 2013. His son, Dan Jr., writes, “Even at 91 years old, his loss was sudden and unexpected. His body simply wore out, but his spirit and love for his family remained steadfast right until the end.”

Dan devoted 34 years of his life to Keewaydin Temagami as a camper, trip staff, and assistant director. Since his time as a camper, from 1936 to 1940, Devil’s Island and Temagami were a main cornerstone in his life. “All the routines of canoe tripping or working in the office at camp or building stone walls or hauling fill in buckets in the red boat at the cottage were very important to him. But in the end it was interacting with all the people that touched him the most. We [ the Carpenter family] know that he was something of a legend, but we especially want you to know that your love and friendship meant the world him as well. And also that one of our very last discussions centered around statements such as, ‘I guess they have closed up the Keewaydin kitchen by now’.”

Dan will be remembered for his extraordinary service and dedication to Keewaydin Temagami. Dan’s wisdom, effort, generosity and spirit helped to mold generations of campers, thus passing on the Keewaydin Way. He surely will not be forgotten.

Predeceased by Jane, his wife of 65 years, and son Bill, Dan is survived by sons Dan Jr. and Peter, daughters Debbie Jerome and Jennifer Reid, daughter-in-law Kris Carpenter, and grandchildren Clare, Jennie, Gates, and Sam Jerome.

Arrangements for the service are yet to be determined. Dan’s obituary provides more information about the arrangements and memorials.

Quay Quay Dan!

Songadeewin Director on Vermont Public Radio

 

Ellen Flight, Director of Songadeewin and President of the Vermont Camping Association, joined Jane Lindholm on the Vermont Edition of Vermont Public Radio to discuss summer camp traditions, lessons, and adventures. Listen to the show and share your experience at one of Keewaydin’s camps!

Campers who attended Keewaydin Dunmore in the summer of 1957 prepare for a paddling adventure.
Campers who attended Keewaydin Dunmore in the summer of 1957 prepare for a paddling adventure.

 

 

 

Talking Metaphors with John McPhee ’37

By Jennifer Altman

Published in the July 10, 2013 issue of the Princeton Alumni Weekly

Joel Achenbach ’82, a longtime writer for The Washington Post, was perched on a stage next to Ferris Professor of Journalism John McPhee ’53, recalling the day McPhee handed him back his first writing assignment.

The Princeton class of 1953 hosted a 60th-reunion tribute to one of its own, journalist and Princeton professor John McPhee. Two of McPhee’s former students, journalists Robert Wright ’79, left, and Joel Achenbach ’82, ­interviewed their teacher and mentor.
The Princeton class of 1953 hosted a 60th-reunion tribute to one of its own, journalist and Princeton professor John McPhee. Two of McPhee’s former students, journalists Robert Wright ’79, left, and Joel Achenbach ’82, ­interviewed their teacher and mentor.

“The paper came back, and there were red marks all over,” Achenbach said. “I thought I was a hotshot writer, and it was just a bloodbath.   No professor had ever done that before. If there was an infelicity, it was marked. He didn’t let anything through.”

McPhee — who is known for mentoring students for decades after their graduation — replied, “I’m a little disappointed that you remember things with metaphors like ‘bloodbath.’”

The occasion was a Reunions tribute to McPhee, considered the country’s premier practitioner of long-form ­journalism. A New Yorker contributor for five decades and a Pulitzer Prize-winning author of 28 books, McPhee has taught “Creative Non­fiction” for almost 40 years to aspiring journalists such as Achenbach and Robert Wright ’79, who interviewed him before a crowd of ’53 classmates and guests in the Trustee Reading Room at Firestone Library.

McPhee recalled that he first was asked to teach at Princeton in 1975, after the professor who had been lined up for a journalism course quit. These days, after selecting 16 students from as many as 80 applicants, he teaches them, he said, “how to improve their efficiency in the water.”

“He taught us to cut and revise,” Achenbach recalled in an email after the panel. One exercise was to trim a well-known text. “That’s hard when the assigned text is the Gettysburg Address.”

McPhee talked about his early days as a writer, recalling that he wanted “to write forThe New Yorker from the time I was in college. I sent dozens and dozens of things to them, all of which were rejected. … That went on ’til I was 31 years old, and the first piece got in. A writer has to try this, try that, work your way forward against trial and error, against rejection.”

 

Advice For A “Homesick” Parent

A recent article in The Atlantic gives some wonderful advice for parents who
are feeling “homesick” for their child.  

A Summer Camp Lesson: Good-bye, and Go Away,
Thank You Very Much

Dropping a kid off for camp can test a parent’s resolve. But standing back to let a child develop autonomy is one of the most important things a parent can do.
By Jessica Lahey

Three years ago, when he was eleven, my son Ben set down a very specific parental code of conduct we’d be expected to follow at summer camp drop-off. We could say our goodbyes at home, but once we arrived at camp, any displays of affection, attempts to make his bed, arrange his things, or force premature familiarity with his cabin mates would be strictly prohibited. We could hang around during registration, watch while they check him for lice, help him lug his bags to his cabin, and shake hands with his counselor, but after that, our parental duties were complete. We were expected to say goodbye, and go away, thank you very much.

My husband was taken aback by Ben’s request, but I was not. I totally understood his yearning for independence. I went to camp as a child, and as much as I adored my parents, I, too, looked forward to the autonomy I found during those glorious summer months away from home. I missed my parents, of course, but in their absence, I passed my swim test, dove off the high dive, ran my first 5k, spent three nights alone in a dark forest, and shared my first kiss.

The fact that Ben is eager to watch me walk away from him is a sign of strength — both of our bond, and of his sense of self. According to psychologist Michael Thompson, childhood requires an endpoint, and it’s a parent’s job to raise children who can leave, children secure enough to turn away from the safety of a parents’ embrace and look toward the adventures and challenges to be found beyond.

In his book Homesick and Happy: How Time Away from Parents Can Help a Child GrowThompson writes,

…in the final analysis, there are things we cannot do for our children, no matter how much we might want to. In order to successfully accomplish these tasks, to grow in the ways they need to grow, children have to do it on their own, and usually away from their parents, sometimes overnight, sometimes for days or weeks or even months.

He goes on to list the eight things parents cannot do for their children, no matter how desperate we are to do so:

1. We cannot make our children happy.

2. We cannot give our children high self-esteem.

3. We cannot make friendships for our children or micro-manage their friendships.

4. We cannot successfully double as our child’s agent, manager, and coach.

5. We cannot create the “second family” for which our child yearns in order to facilitate his or her own growth.

6. It is increasingly apparent that we parents cannot compete with or limit our children’s total immersion in the online, digital, and social media realms.

7. We cannot keep our children perfectly safe, but we can drive them crazy trying.

8. We cannot make our children independent.

Thompson’s list of developmental milestones — critical, essential milestones every child is going to have to navigate — is terrain our children must traverse on their own, and parents who believe they can span those uncomfortable gaps with lovingly made bridges woven of organic hemp and allergen-free twine are kidding themselves. Despite all our parental worries, these gaps are not deep, dark, places of danger where there be dragons and creepy Stephen King clowns; they are places of wonder, filled with adventure, and excitement, and the promise of untold successes. If we allow our children to head out into these uncharted territories on their own, they will get there and back again, and when they return to us, ready to tell their tales of adventure, they will be much more competent and capable human beings.

So when I drove my son to camp today, we did not have to review his rules. He knew I would remember and honor them. We parked, he was checked for lice, I met his counselor, and while the other parents moved about the cabin, making their children’s beds and suggesting where to store their flashlights and extra sunscreen, I quickly took my leave with a wave and a good-bye.

On the way back to the car, my younger son slipped his hand into mine, something he hardly ever does anymore.

“I think I’d like to come to camp next year,” he said.

“Really?” I said, picturing him running around among these hulking adolescents.

“Yep,” he nodded. “I think I’ll be big enough next year.”

And with that, he let go of my hand and ran ahead to gather up a pile of pine needles he’d spotted just off the path. As I watched him attempt to stuff two handfuls of the needles into his pockets, I realized that next year, he’d be almost as old as his brother was the first year he went to camp. So just maybe, if I do my job right, he will be big enough next year. Big enough to want me to say goodbye, and go away, thank you very much.

This article available online at:

http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2013/06/a-summer-camp-lesson-good-bye-and-go-away-thank-you-very-much/277145/

Passage into Manhood

The Boston Globe

Passage into Manhood

By Michael Thompson  |  July 26, 2005

As printed in The Boston Globe, July 26, 2005. Re-printed with permission from the author. 

THE BOY sitting next to me on the plane from Toronto to North Bay was 17 years old, a rising high school senior with a slight beard. He had the misfortune to sit next to a child psychologist, a so-called expert on boys, who would pester him with questions for the entire trip about how he was spending his summer, and why. ”This is kind of like a final exam,” he observed, trying to get me to relent, but I wouldn’t let go.

After he had gamely answered a number of my questions about the summer camp to which he was headed, I sprang the big one on him, the question I have asked many boys his age. ”Do you consider yourself to be a man?”

”Yes,” he replied immediately. Then he caught himself, hesitating momentarily before declaring with conviction: Well, no. But I will be in August!”

What could a 17-year-old boy do between the last week of June and August that he could anticipate would make him a man? American culture doesn’t have any universal ritual that sees a boy through that psychologically difficult passage from boyhood to manhood. Many boys, actually, almost every boy, struggles with what it means to become a man. Boys (or young men, if you prefer) of 17, 19, and into their early 20s wrestle with the riddle: What test do I have to pass to become a man, and who will be able to recognize that I have reached that point? My young companion thought he had found an answer.

It turned out that he was going to embark the next morning on a 50-day canoeing trip that would take him and nine companions through lakes, rivers, rapids, mud, and ferocious mosquitoes, all the way up to Hudson’s Bay, a distance of 600 miles. He and his friends had been preparing for this by developing wilderness skills for the last four years at their camp. They would carry all of their own food, they would take risks, and they would suffer. Toward the end of their journey they would see the Northern lights and would visit an Inuit settlement. They might see moose and wolves, but, he told me, they were not going to be tourists. ”This isn’t about seeing wild animals,” he asserted.

What was his definition of manhood? ”It’s taking responsibility,” he said. ”At the end of the day, it’s taking responsibility and taking things you’ve learned from others and creating your own self.

”It’s about finishing a grueling portage,” he said, ”It’s about doing work and getting a result.”

Didn’t he get that from school and varsity athletics? No. Though he did well in school and had bright college prospects, school didn’t address his hunger to be a man, not even playing sports. ”After sports you go home, take a shower, and watch TV.” When he was canoe tripping, he felt as if he made a sustained effort that connected him to all the men who had canoed before him at that camp for more than 100 years.

Could he find the experience he sought among his friends back home? What were they doing this summer? ”Hanging out. They’re playing video games,” he said. They didn’t get it. ”It’s frustrating. You try to explain to them how great it is. You tell them about paddling all day, and cooking your own food, about the mosquitoes, and carrying a wood canoe, and they say, ‘What, are you crazy?’ “

This young about-to-be man described his father as a ”good guy,” his mother as a hardworking professional, and his step-father as financially successful, but none of them seemed to hold the key to helping him become a man. American culture has no universal ritual for helping boys move from boyhood to manhood. Jewish boys have their bar mitzvahs, Mormon boys have their year of missionary service, other boys sign up for the military. Yet every boy yearns to be a man, and traditional societies always took boys away from their parents to pass an initiation rite. We no longer have such rituals, but boys still wonder: What is the test, where do I find it, how do I pass it, and who will recognize that moment when I pass from boyhood to manhood? We fail to provide a meaningful, challenging path that speaks to the souls of a majority of boys.

The key to his manhood lay with the counselors who accompany him on the journey and with his companions whose lives he would protect and who would, in turn, look out for him. Past the rain, the bugs, the smelling bad, he would discover his manhood in community and in the kind of challenge that only nature offers up.

Our plane journey over, I wished him luck. And then I couldn’t get our conversation out of my mind. While a demanding canoe trip is not for every boy, I’m certain that every boy is searching for a test. You can find the test by taking on anything that requires commitment and courage. However, there is something that happens out-of-doors that strips you down to the essentials: safety, companionship, a shared sense of mission. You set aside the busyness and crap of daily life, and then you can think about what it actually means to be a man.

Michael_Thompson_BioMichael Thompson is the author of Homesick and Happy: How Time Away From Parents Can Help a Child Grow, The Pressured Child: Helping Your Child to Achieve Success in School and in Life and co-author of Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys.

Michael wrote this article following his trip to Keewaydin Temagami with the group of boys making a seven week journey via canoe to Hudson Bay ( the trip known as Section A.) Michael has been Keewaydin’s consulting psychologist for the past twelve years and facilitates workshops for the staff at both Keewaydin Temagami and Keewaydin Dunmore each summer. Michael attended Keewaydin Temagami in the 1960s.

The Excellence School Featured on 60 Minutes

Keewaydin Camps Partner with the Excellence School

The Excellence Boys Charter School of Brooklyn was recently featured in a 60 Minutes story about the Robin Hood Foundation of New York. Keewaydin connected with the school in 2012, enabling two scholars to attend Keewaydin Temagami last summer. Those boys’ experience, combined with a presentation by camp Director Bruce Ingersoll, helped cement a partnership between Keewaydin and the Excellence School. This summer, the partnership will enable five boys from the Excellence School to attend Keewaydin camps; three at Keewaydin Temagami and two at Keewaydin Dunmore.

Robin Hood