Latham Springs - Part 6

Before we go any further into life as a sponsor and various camp traditions, I’d be remiss if I didn’t get into my underlying love for Camp.

Why do I love Camp so much? Why is it such a special place for so many?

I could never speak to someone else’s passion, but the great thing about Camp at Latham Springs is how those that have been… know. All this writing I’m doing is about rehashing memories and lessons learned. It’s not about convincing anyone how great the experience was. If you’ve been, I’m preaching to the choir. If you haven’t, (a) you’re probably not reading this and (b) my words could never convey Camp.

Just 12 miles west off exit 1304, Latham Springs is tucked away and has undergone many changes over the years. More buildings, a ropes course, a zip line, a gift shop… who knows what else. But, all the places we love are still there. Our cabins still stand. Swank Field is still there with more uneven ground than the Democratic Party (sorry, was struggling for analogies), the Tabernacle is still there, but now completely enclosed, the Cafeteria is there with the mic, even though they’ve partitioned it off differently from what we remember… The Prayer Garden still sits back behind the Tabernacle, although it’s a bit rundown now. If you’ve been there, you just got mental images of the place.

But while all this loosely describes the place, it doesn’t explain Camp and my love for it.

Separated from the real world, you are constantly on the go to the point of exhaustion, surrounded by an atmosphere where God is the focus… not music, not movies, not sports… God. While there will always be conflicts, camp breeds positivity. People are nice to you. And they’re always supportive. Camp breeds a bunker mentality that ‘we’re all in this together.’ We are all eating the same semi-edible food. We are all taking showers that never seem to wash the soap off. We are all tired and suffering from allergies. We all stink from sweat and dust.

And we are all praising God together.

In short, it’s everything the real world isn’t. Maybe that’s part of the problem too, in all honesty. Real life isn’t camp. In real life, you have bosses who don’t really care whether you had a quiet time that morning. You don’t have other groups wake you up bringing you juice and coffee. There’s no after-lunch worship service.

No, the real world has bosses asking for reports in 15 minutes. Sales reps whining because something is somehow your fault and not theirs. In the real world, your IT department can’t get your computer up and running when your password needs to be reset.

So, the stark contrast between that one week (that somehow fuels an entire year) and the other 51 is why I love Camp so much.

Latham Springs may not be anyone’s imagination of Heaven, but God sure seems to keep a summer home there.

Next week, I’ll get into life as a sponsor and a few groups/stories. I’ll also go through as many camp traditions I can think of.  We are rounding the Latham Springs/Camp series down, but hopefully through all this… Camp (and what we gained from it) will live on a bit longer.

Latham Springs - Part 5

12^th Grade – Boys of Summer

Sorry Carly, but we were the Originals. And in this instance… the best.

Ever.

The 1992 11^th/12^th Grade Boys were legendary. For years, among those who were around, when they would discuss the best groups ever, the conversation started and ended here. Ironically, if I remember correctly, our Senior Girls actually tied us for best camp group. While that kinda stunk, it was also cool. The Class of 1992 was a legendary class… consistently among the best groups to ever walk Latham Springs. It was poetic, I guess, that we’d end our reign together on top.

But, from a journey that began in 7^th grade till now, our entire class ran Latham Springs that year. And while everyone competed, after all the success we’d had in our time there, everyone knew there would be no lapse in focus. No hiccups. This was a victory parade… and everyone else was invited.

The competition between us and the Senior Girls was intense, but we were both genuinely happy for each other’s success. When they won, we won. When we won, they won. That year wasn’t so much about winning it all. That was a foregone conclusion… it was about experiencing it all along the way.

I could talk about our Pep Rally or Talent Show. They were cool. So were our props. We had two different group specific shirts in addition to a pair of windshorts. Caps. Bats. Other stuff too. Heck, we had so much stuff, they actually created a rule to prevent groups from going so overboard. Once they start making rules to stop you, you know you did something big. J (Wouldn’t be the last time they made rules to stop some of the things my groups did, lol.)

But while many of my memories revolve around the competition stuff, that year held so many more.

One of which was a certain 6^th grade girl who happened to take a liking to me. She was cute and fun and would send me multiple Bowls O’ Fun at dinner time. I’ll call her Dissy Chravis, for fear of embarrassing her, but to this day, she’s still a great friend of mine. I’ve watched over her like a big brother, and while we are connected through Facebook but don’t talk all that much… I can’t NOT think of her when I think of my senior year at camp.

The poems that started as a junior only improved. The cool part about them though, wasn’t really what I wrote… but how people reacted. Without trying to sound arrogant, when you give people what they want, they’ll love you for it. And, of any year I remember, I felt the love. People I never knew would come up and talk to me... Say ‘hi.’ Ask my opinion on a cheer/chant… whatever. I KNOW this all sounds egotistical, but it had the opposite effect. It was insanely humbling to me.  I think people saw me just live up camp the best I could. It wasn’t about being better than anyone else (as a group or individually), I was just finishing up a journey through six years of camp that I knew would never come back. I lived it up. Soaked it all in.

That week was… perfect. I was in the place I cherished most. I knew that life was about to get more complicated. That’s what happens when you grow older. But, for one week… things were… perfect.

With all the attention I got that year, it also changed my own group’s view of me. In the past, I was the one asking what our next plans were. What were we doing at the mic? I wasn’t the guy in the back, but on the side. As the week wore on, I was in front. I never really noticed this until we had a dispute on the way to our cabin about something we should do for Talent Show. One of the most popular guys had a pretty big disagreement with some others, and he turned to me and I’ll never forget these words… “Sammy, you’re one of the leaders… what do YOU think?”

Now, don’t misconstrue me here. He was asking me my opinion as much in hope that I was on his side as anything. He didn’t really care what I thought unless it supported him. He wasn’t asking or my all-knowing guidance and insight. I know that. But, the fact that he even turned to me revealed that (a) not only do I have a little clout, but (b) I was viewed as a leader. Maybe not HIS leader, but A leader.

We all know there are ‘tiers’ to the social hierarchy in high school, and this guy was at the top. While I have made a life of not really worrying about that stuff, I WAS cognizant of where I stood on that totem pole. His turning to me sticks with me, even to this day.

I could talk about other things… the Camper/Sponsor softball game that we won (campers NEVER won), how Clean Cabin went… Spirit Sticks… but, if you’re still reading this, you’re probably ready to wrap up...

Awards night… I know this blog is getting long, but I could write a novel about that night. If there’s any night I remember as much (or more) than the Night I Cried Myself to Sleep, it’s this one.

Its sticks out, not only for what happened, but for what it meant to me personally. See, I was always the kid people picked on. I was easy pickings. I was goofy. Weird. Obnoxious. Nice. Never quite ‘popular’ (whatever that really means), but I was able to make friends with most anyone. If my sister was the popular pretty one (and she was), I was the weird ‘Marlena’s brother’. Nice kid, but always made fun of and picked on. I won’t name names, but some of you reading this may have contributed to that. J

Well… when Todd Warner told me he voted me for Favorite Camper, that blew my mind. When Marlena told me I got a lot of votes as a junior, that really shocked me. I know how these things go, so I figured I’d get a few votes this year. At least from my girlfriend and, uh… Dissy Chravis. J

Never in my wildest did I think it would ever happen, but Mr. Picked-On-Geek-Dork-Weird-Obnoxious was voted Favorite Camper of 1992.

Now, I’m 37 years old and long past worrying about whether everyone likes me or not, but I’ll tell you… from where I came to winning that award… It still makes me feel good. I know it sounds corny and everything. I know the, “Dude… it’s been 20 years… high school… yadda yadda”… I get all that. But for someone who cherished Camp like I did, it’s like I just won Super Bowl MVP at the time.

I recently spoke with Stephanie Edwards (Mashhoon) and we spoke a little about camp that year. She didn’t even remember SHE won Favorite Girl Camper… I felt a little weird because it’s such a cool memory for me.  All about perspective, people. J

There really wasn’t much suspicion as to who would win Best Camp Group. It was the Boys of Summer, AJ’s Bouquets… and everyone else. This was going to be a coronation of a career spent in the PPBC youth group.

As expected, the Class of 1992 really WAS the CLASS of 1992.

I remember thinking of all the people who came through the youth group that I saw as seniors. David Fish. James Thomas. Shari Peters. Kristi Trout. Mark Clements. Chris Black. My sister. I was now where I saw all these people years earlier. We were now part of that legacy. People in the younger groups would remember Byron Jackson. Patrick McCrory. Andy Bennett. Stephanie Edwards. Randi Spence. Sammy McMahan. (and some wouldn’t have the foggiest idea who we were… lol)

You never know who’s looking at you. Never know who notices who you are. What you do… what you say… how little the littlest things you do are always remembered by SOMEBODY.

There’s a responsibility to that. After making fun of the crying seniors when I was in 7^th grade… I finally GOT it.

During the senior buffet, Cliff has his ice sculpture out. The cafeteria was candlelit. Any senior who wanted to speak got the chance. Some of us were serious. Some of us made jokes. But, all of us got to experience Camp.

Latham Springs - Part 4

11^th Grade – Alpha/Omega

If there ever was a year for redemption, it was my junior year. Everything about my sophomore year pretty much sucked. Everything about my junior year (almost), represented the opposite end of that pendulum. And it only continued at Camp.

Leading up to camp, I remember meeting as a group when we chose our name. We discussed not to leave anything up for grabs. This was going to be our year. No more heartbreak. No more run-of-the-mill performance. We knew God was going to do some great things that year… and we knew we were going to do OUR part with the other stuff.

Strangely, there’s very little I remember about that week. I’m sure it would all come back to me if I talked to someone who remembers more than I do, but I remember mainly it was just an absolute blast.

The weeks leading up to camp, a core group of us would meet up and start prepping things. Our colors were purple and gold. Yes… we had colors. Normally it’s not quite that defined, but with some of the ideas we had rolling around in our heads (and our leaders’), those colors played a big part of our week. What made this year (and the next) so fun and funny was that our leaders shared our passion for winning. Heck… almost TOO much. But, one thing was sure... I think they knew we wouldn’t settle for anything less than our best this time. And to their credit, they made sure we gave it.

We had all sorts of props that year. Purple and gold dyed sheets (for use in Clean Cabin)… towels… PVC-made diplomas, complete with purple and gold ribbon. We had other things too. I actually came across that diploma thing the other day while cleaning out my attic.

Ever get that feeling when you KNOW a storm is coming and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Well… we were that storm.

I’m actually a little disappointed I am struggling to remember much about that year because it was so dang fun.

One thing that DID begin that year were my poems. I was always a very self-assured guy who didn’t really respond much to peer pressure. I wouldn’t say I was a ‘background’ guy, but I wasn’t normally out in front either. Well, one of the traditions of Camp was that groups would go up to the mic during meals and talk, talk smack, invite other groups to meals, lead in prayers… pretty much anything we could do to get attention and have fun, we’d try it at the mic.

Well… before dinner one night, I was hanging out on my bunk and I realized we didn’t have much mic material. Andy Bennett was worried we had ‘nothing’ to say up there, so I decided to come up with a poem about SOMETHING… I don’t know. But, it just flowed quickly. That night, as we were finishing up our time on the mic, I decided to tell everyone to hold on… “I have something to say.”

And wouldn’t you know? It was a hit. The whole cafeteria got a big kick out of it and gave the ultimate Camp Compliment: clapping in unison until I gave the final clap. I ain’t gonna lie… that was pretty dang intoxicating for someone who usually let others have the attention.

At breakfast the next morning, people were asking me if I had a poem ready. See, you can’t underestimate the impact of ‘mic time’. If you bomb at the mic, the rest of the place smells blood in the water. I’ve seen people and groups implode on the mic and it’s a sad sight to behold. You almost feel bad for them… almost. J

Back to my point… I didn’t have a poem ready. And people were disappointed. That blew me away. At that point… I KNEW I had something. And the rest is history. I don’t think Camp had another meal without one of my poems until I was in college. (But they DID make a comeback… more on that later.)

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t some modern day Edgar Allen Poe… I wrote page long poems that rhymed, but that’s about it. But, they were funny. Or serious. Or whatever they needed to be. I was just able to strike a nerve with them. I enjoyed writing them. I enjoyed reading them. People enjoyed it too. It worked out pretty well for us all. J

As time wore on through the years, one of the biggest compliments people ever gave me was that my poems became part of Camp’s tradition. For someone who loves Camp like I do, to become a ‘part’ of what it means to others is about as good as it gets for me.

If all this (or anything else I’ve written) sounds egotistic then either you weren’t there or you don’t know me that well. I just soaked up all camp had to offer. After God, Camp was known for its traditions. Following them… and creating them.

I think for me… Alpha/Omega was about creating a new tradition.

Oh yeah… we won that year. Blew everyone away. But, honestly… we knew we would. That didn’t take the joy out of it, but when you’re on a mission to accomplish something, and you DO it… it feels good. But, the journey was the reward. The crowning was anti-climactic.

That year, I also remember my sister was a sponsor. It was cool with her there, but after we got back, she told me something that surprised me. I don’t know how she got her information or whether she was just trying to be nice… but apparently all my poetry and mic time got me so much attention that I was one of the leading vote-getters for Favorite Camper. How cool is that? I didn’t do anything with a purpose beyond having some fun and getting attention for our group. I enjoyed the attention, but that was a side-benefit.

But, knowing that a significant portion voted for me felt really cool. The two top individual awards at the time were Favorite Camper (voted by students) and Outstanding Camper (voted on by sponsors).

To get one of those is really a big honor. To be mentioned in the conversation, to me, was just a nice cap to what was an incredible year all around.

Latham Springs - Part 3

9^th Grade – Biceps

Oh, man does this year stand out. First year in high school. We joined back with the MASH group, but this time… we weren’t going to be anonymous anymore. We came out brash. We came out bold. We KNEW we were going to win. If it sounds like I’m more focused on that than God, you have to understand something with me… it all goes hand in hand. We were going to ‘get’ God, whether we wanted to or not. That was a given. But, the competition served as a magnifying glass to all that for me. Others too, I’m sure.

This year houses so many vivid memories for me. Some vague nostalgic items come to mind, but if 8^th Grade was a coming out party, 9^th Grade taught me a number of valuable lessons.

This may have been the most intense year we had as a group. Competition was fierce, God was working and we were freshman. A perfect storm of tension. So much so, that we even came up with a stupid cheer/chant/’thing’  that confused everyone at first… until it caught on.

TENSION BREAKER!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

If you were part of us… you know EXACTLY what that means.

I remember meeting a friend of Anne Marie Bellomy from Coppell and we hit it off really well. (Camp crushes are great J.)  I also remember our camp shirts. Every year, we have a camp shirt. Most are regular T-shirts.  Well… this one wasn’t a shirt, but a scrub top. The theme that year was Operation… so they gave us scrub tops. Still have mine tucked away somewhere.

I also remember my sister, Marlena, being a senior and winning Favorite Girl camper. I thought that was the coolest thing. There are 300+ kids there… and my big sister was voted as the favorite girl. She was nice to everyone. She was infectious with her laugh, personality and all the boys liked her. J I remember getting a lot of grief because my sister was ‘fine’. Let’s just say, having an attractive sister is murder on a brother. She transcended the ‘popular’ crowd and people identified with her. That stuck with me.

Talent Show… yeah, that was cool. One thing about our group… we were creative. And we usually had good, strong, creative leaders. Well… one of our leaders had an idea for a human puppeteer-style talent show. Some people would be puppeteering the human puppets, but with no strings. It all had to be timed perfectly. The cool thing was we chose a song (Shout from Animal House) that built slowly and continually. The progam had to do the same. And oh man, did it. Song choice is MONUMENTAL when it comes to Talent Show and we nailed it. Not only was it just cool (words don’t really do it justice), but it actually broke the rules for the show. Before the show, the leaders made it clear that this year’s Talent Show was being videotaped, so as much as people wanted to stand and cheer, they shouldn’t because it would block the camera.

Well… as our performance kept building, the energy in the place kept rising. And rising. About 2/3 way through, the rest of us puppets came alive (with rosy red cheeks and all) and got the crowd up and dancing. I remember I worked my way to someone (Melissa McCrory, I think) and pulled her up to start dancing. Once that happened…. The floodgates opened and everyone got up and danced, cheered etc and completely blocked the camera’s view. The place exploded. Not only was it a cool idea… it was just plain FUN. If I’m not mistaken, our winning performance (yes, it won) is the only one that DIDN’T make it onto the camp video that year.

My last vivid memory? This was the year I cried myself to sleep. For those who know me… really know me… you know I’m actually a big baby. I don’t show it much, but when I emotionally invest in things (and I always did at Camp), the pendulum swings high and far, one way or the other. Well… we poured ourselves into everything, and there was one group who we were battling. (This would be a theme the rest of our years at camp)… our counterparts… the 9^th/10^th Grade Girls. If there was a ‘Camp Rivalry’, this was it. It was friendly… but oh man, it was palpable and real. During the Friday night awards ceremony, they announced all the winners from Spirit Stick to Favorite Camper to best Family Group… until the big dawg: Best Camp Group. We were a shoo-in. Never crossed our minds that we wouldn’t win. Until we didn’t. I still think whoever counted up those points must’ve forgotten to carry the one or something, but we lost to our nemesis… and that HURT.

Like I said… when I emotionally invest in something, emotions can go from crazy high to crazy low… and dangit… it sure did. I had no interest in doing any of the night time activities. Many of us didn’t, actually. Of course, we all griped and whined about how unfair it was and we got screwed and yadda yadda… But, I remember that night as much as any other night I had at any year of any camp. I was torn up because we didn’t win. Maybe it’s because I never considered the idea we wouldn’t. Lesson learned.

 But, yes ladies and gentlemen… I cried myself to sleep that night.

Now, some may argue and say, “See? That’s why you shouldn’t focus so much on that stuff….” And to that I say? Irrelevant. It was a valuable lesson. It’s ok to be disappointed. Life isn’t full of winners. People DO lose. And while it hurt… it never became more important than what I was there for… to get closer to God. If anything, it gave me even more of a reason to turn to Him at that time. I knew it wasn’t the end of the world, but it sure sucked. It’s all about perspective, people.

Anyone who knows me, knows I never shorted the God-centric part of camp. I went full-bore into all aspects, and I was/am fully aware of what’s really important vs. not. But, once you decide to invest yourself into something, how can you help but let it effect you? Maybe that’s why I remember so much. (I wish I remembered more.) I invested myself so much into camp because I loved it so much. Even if that meant crying myself to sleep…

10^th Grade – The Untouchables

One of the best parts of Camp is the lead-up. The prep. It’s kind of like training camp in the NFL where everyone thinks they have a chance. Everyone has hope. All plans sound great.

Oops.

When we gathered after Sunday night service to hear the camp theme and pick names, that's when Camp started. Groups would huddle together, making sure no one could hear their ideas for a name. The excitement and tension was electric. We went through a lot of different ideas, but settled on some a name that fit. A name that totally captured what we were. A name so cocky, we'd have no choice but to live up to it: The Untouchables. (sense a bit of overconfidence here?)

That right there began the perfect storm of disaster...

So, when we decided we’d be The Untouchables, many of us gathered in the CRC to watch the movie and get ideas we could use during camp. Near the start of the movie, a Chicago gangster is seen in a diner with a briefcase. Shortly after introducing his character, he gets up and leaves. Next thing you know, a young boy notices he left it, so he grabs it and runs about 20 feet outside the diner, yelling, “Mr., Mr.! You forgot your briefcase!” Right then, the case explodes and destroys what looks like half a city block.

To a room of high school sophomores and freshmen, this was like the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy went to Disney World and had a baby named Santa Claus. We cracked up laughing and thought it was the best thing ever! Sadly… that would be the highlight to a major letdown of a year at camp.

We all bought suits for the week so we could look like gangsters. (I’m telling you… we went ALL OUT for this stuff.) Of course, most of us got our suits at the Goodwill store for $5 or something, but you’ve gotta be pretty ‘into it’ to wear a full 3-piece suit voluntarily in the hot Texas summer.

All our ideas seemed to flop. This was the group that struck gold with the Hillbillies. If the Biceps were strong, this group was going to erupt like no group ever did before.

Instead of exploding… we imploded.

Talent Show was set to Janet Jackson’s ‘Alright with Me’ song. (No wardrobe malfunctions here!) We tried for some weird mash-up of dancing and a cool background cityscape. Basically, we tried to emulate the music video.

Sounded good on paper, at least. Aside from looking rather dapper all week in our suits and gangster hats, very little went right. Of all my years at camp, this was by far the biggest letdown. Not only from a competitive standpoint, but I had allergy issues so bad that week, I wasn’t healthy enough to enjoy much of what camp had to offer that year. Couple that with some personal issues I had my sophomore year, and I was just a depressed, allergy ridden, hormonal dude who struggled the entire week.

I DO remember meeting Todd Warner that year. I think he was in my family group. Either way, he was two years older than me and we hit it off really well. I grew to be great friends with him and his family. They still hold a special place in my heart. At the end of the week, Todd floored me with something too. He told me he voted for ME as favorite camper. I can’t begin to tell you how good that felt. A senior voted for ME as his favorite. Cool…

The other thing I remember is Brad McMullen and his curly semi-fro.

God bless Brad.

Something about 10^th grade boys makes them probably the most difficult group to deal with. Between dealing w/ our inherent bravado, we were in an awkward spot. We weren’t the Alpha males in school, but we were able to bully around the freshman. J Looking back at all my years at camp, it seems the one grade that seemed to struggle the most year after year were the sophomores. And we weren’t immune.

But, Brad would stay even keel. Rarely did he get too upset. He didn’t seem to focus much on the competition side of things, but would support our efforts. That’s not to say he’s not competitive. Play softball with him, and you’ll know he is. But, of all the leaders we had, he seemed to be the least ‘directive’ and the most pliable. Relaxed. He gave us the rope to either catch what we wanted or hang ourselves.

Fitting, as 'gangsters' we turned it into a noose. I learned a lot from that. It wasn’t his job to push us… he let us push ourselves, and we didn’t do a good job. We were responsible for how things went… not him. He made sure we focused on Christ that week, even when things didn’t go our way.

Anyone who’s ever had Brad as a leader will quickly remember… “I am third.”

God. Our family. Ourselves. When it came time to do something, he drilled into our heads, “I am third.” Other people are the priority. Not ourselves. That taught me humility (don’t laugh J). To this day, I carry that lesson with me. He lived that. Still does. He’s a Godly man who never got the respect he deserved from us that year. We liked him… but I’ve grown to love him.

The other ‘Brad-ism’? We would sit in a circle in the middle room and have devotions/talks/whatever. But, how do you keep everyone from talking over each other? A tennis ball, of course. Yep… only the person with the ball could speak. Didn’t have the ball? Keep your mouth shut. It was funny, and we secretly made fun of the concept, but dang, it worked!

So… respect. Humility. Self-discipline/leadership. Even a ‘lost’ year at camp teaches and reinforces lifelong lessons.

I honestly don’t remember much else about that year. I remember taking my biggest crush to dinner the night we invited her group out. That was cool… but I was so hot and sweaty in my gangster suit, I probably smelled like that pig I caught two years earlier.

I guess I was so loopy with allergy medicine, much of that week was a general haze for me. But, you know? It was still Camp.

Latham Springs - Part 2

PART II

Who knows how long I’ll be writing this, but if for no other reason but to enjoy the memories… here are my memories of each group and how that year played out…

CAMP GROUPS – I don’t remember all the groups I was in as a sponsor, but I CAN remember many more of the kids than I do the names. But, below are my camp groups while a student:

·         7^th Grade – MASH 1714

·         8^th Grade – Beverly Hillbillies

·         9^th Grade – Biceps

·         10^th Grade – Untouchables

·         11^th Grade – Alpha/Omega

·         12^th Grade – Boys of Summer

There were many others as a sponsor from 1994-2004. (We had a ‘college camp’ in 1993 there at the same time as youth camp. This was the first and only year in my time without Jr Sponsors. That in itself created a lot of tension amongst those of us who expected to come back as a Jr Sponsor. Once the leadership realized they needed grunts to do the dirty work… they brought us back. J.) I don’t remember the names of all the groups I got to be part of, but I remember the experiences.

Below… I’ll just mention everything I can think of for each group and/or general memories that will always be a part of me… and helped mold who/what I am. Feel free to post some of your own memories as well… I’m sure I’ll think of others after writing all this.

7^th Grade – MASH 1714

1714 for the address of the church. I remember coming up the year before with my dad and being mesmerized by everything going on just that one night. All the chants (“Let me see your cockaroach, What’s that you say?!”) I remember Benny and Cliff doing mail call. Hans Nicholson leading a prayer at dinner. I couldn’t wait to get to ‘Camp’. My dad would tell me so many stories, I couldn’t wait to experience them for myself. I wasn’t let down. I was new… but it was still all I hoped it could be. We really had no clue what we were doing but we did it as best we could.

I don’t remember the speaker, but Al Denson was the worship leader. He went on to become quite a big deal in Christian music for a while. All in all… it was all I expected Camp to be.

During the Senior Walk, I remember being the last group picked up and goofing off the entire time. I didn’t realize it then, but an amazing journey would soon follow.

8^th Grade – Beverly Hillbillies

This was the first year in what would turn into the most successful run of groups in camp history. This was before they split us into Jr High/High School competition. All grades were lumped together in boys vs girls groups (7^th/8^th… 9^th/10^th… 11^th/12^th) and may the best group win. There was no participation ribbon. There was no excuse that the older kids had an advantage. It was the Hunger Games without the death. And we won. Not only did we win… we dominated. We won the Pep Rally. I THINK we won the Talent Show, but don’t really remember. We won or placed in the top 3 for Spirit Stick each day. The 7^th/8^th Grade Boys beat up everyone else. We won Clean Cabin at least twice and always placed.

Now, you may ask what’s the big deal? Well… we were slobby Jr High boys and we had no vacuum. We competed against a bunch of girls groups (yes, this was before they even thought about splitting up boys vs girls in cleaning) with… duct tape and masking tape. You’d be amazed at how clean you can get a floor when you wrap tape around your palms and feet. Our motto: If you can see it, so can the judges. And I’m not lying… a SINGLE BLADE OF GRASS could literally mean the difference between winning, losing… or even placing. So, you had 25-30 Jr High boys fighting to get the whole group to clean (and not sleep) a floor, bathroom, middle room and beds… AND organize everything to be perfectly in unison all in an hour. And WE. WERE. GOOD. Nothing beats hard work. And we worked harder than anyone. If there was any group who worked harder than we did, it would be years later… but I’ll get to them eventually!

I also remember a competition where we got to chase a greased up pig. It was all volunteer, but hey… I was a boy… what did I care about getting nasty. Whistle Blows… I snag that thing in about 5 seconds. The judges actually did a 2^nd round because they didn’t think anyone would pick it up so quickly. The round went so fast, it was kind of a letdown. Round 2 starts… It only took me about 15 seconds to fight off everyone else and snag that stupid pig again! Wooo Pig SOUIE!!!! Yeah… I hate losing… and even if it meant chasing a greased up pig so scared out of its mind it pooped on me when I got it, so be it. I was there to win. And win… I did. J

I remember Wally Banks and Rusty Averitt were our two main leaders. My eventual brother-in-law Steve Gunter and Keith Humphress were also with us as Jr Sponsors I believe. That was the first year I got to work with Rusty. We developed a phenomenal relationship and I’ll love that man until I die. (More about him later). But Wally… Oh, Wally. This is a large man with an unnaturally loud, piercing voice who seemed to enjoy handing out pain and punishment. And he had talent for it. What’s the most difficult thing to deal with at camp? Waking up (and waking people up). But Wally, a former IRS agent, knew a way around that. How does waking up every morning at 6:15am to the sound of a wooden spoon banging around inside a metal trash can sound to you? I’ll tell you what it sounded like: Pain. The IRS taught Wally well.

What’s the 2^nd hardest thing to do at camp as a sponsor? Get kids to fall asleep. Well… Rusty had an elixir for that. Despite waking up at 6:15 and going non-stop all day/night long… it’s amazing how no one is tired at 12:15 in the morning. That is until Rusty turns the lights on and has us read out of Leviticus and Deuteronomy… out loud. Forget counting sheep, try reading what animals are clean/unclean in Leviticus 11. 

You won’t last long.

Say many things about our leaders… but they were Godly examples to us. And effective. Lol

Like I said earlier, this is also the year I invited Christ into my heart. That’s a topic for another blog, but needless to say… it’s the most significant moment in my life.

There was also the early morning devotional down at the Prayer Garden. Contrary to popular thought, the Prayer Garden wasn’t just for couples to go hang out and make out when they got a chance. Rusty impressed upon us the importance of going each morning, regardless of how tired we were. So, as a group… we trudged down there, half asleep, wearing our bandanas and farmer clothes and made up half the population down there. Yes, it looked good that our entire group was down there. But, it also taught me about leadership and solidarity. Thanks Rusty.

I also remember meeting and hanging out with my first ‘camp crush’ that year. I remember watching the Sponsor/Camper softball game under sleeping bags with her when they still held it at night. And I’m not talking 10pm… I’m talking first pitch at midnight. It was even called Midnight Madness… and it was AWESOME. Eventually that tradition disappeared for many reasons (some probably good), but if you were innocent enough not to treat the dark like a ‘messing around free-for-all’, then that was one of the coolest things you could imagine.

Emory Gadd was the speaker that year I think, but I definitely remember Greg Johnson was the musician. He was a short little dude who really had a talent for leading worship. He came back years later which was cool. He’s the one who led the song that I was saved to. I’ll always thank him for that.

What made our group so special, I think, is the number of ‘alpha-males’ we had. Many of us went on to be Pastors, youth ministers and/or serve in other leadership capacities. Every so often, you get a group (of guys AND girls) that are born leaders. That was the eventual class of 1992. But we had the adult leadership who did a fantastic job cultivating what we had. There is no doubt God did amazing things with this group… and much of it can be traced back to how Camp (and those involved) molded us. I’m convinced of that. While 7^th grade was a nice little rainfall…  8th Grade turned us into bona fide hurricane.

Latham Springs - Part 1

Camp.

It’s not just a verb or noun. It’s a concept. A time. An experience. Dang near a philosophy.

To those that ‘know’, camp is special. To anyone who’s been, even just once, the words Latham Springs brings immediate memories… and even more once you allow yourself time to think.

It’s not ‘youth’ camp. 'Youth Camp' is the generic term for what all the other churches did. No... this was 'Camp'.

From 1987 to 1992, Camp (it deserves the capital ‘C’) was my Super Bowl for the year. School starts in September… and camp officially bookends the ‘year’. The rest of summer was spent living off the ‘Camp high’.

When things got tough during the year at school, I would consciously allow my mind to ponder on Camp and how that’ll help make things better.

Now, I fully admit I probably took Camp more seriously than other people. But, my gosh… it was guaranteed that the best times of my year would happen that week. Whether it’s the new friends, new girls, the spiritual re-charge, the competition… or all the above…. Camp was more than just a week long ‘getaway’. It was… well… Camp.

About the only thing I can honestly say I didn’t care for at Camp was the allergies. Everything else? Some of it may not have always been enjoyable… but it was all part of Camp.

Most importantly though…

I was saved there in 8^th grade. I remember it like yesterday. The ‘invitation’ song was Father, I Adore you which we all sang in canon. Could have happened anywhere, but like for so many others (sometimes multiple times *giggle*), I was saved there. To me? Latham Springs is sacred ground and Camp is a sacred place/idea/experience.

Part of what made camp… Camp was the competition between groups. It was personal for many of us. Hard work, blood, sweat, tears and tempers ruled the day here. Yes… it was a tool to glorify God, but this was the heyday of the PPBC youth group. Egos DID matter. Bragging rights WERE earned (or lost). There was the Pep Rally, Talent Show, daily Spirit Stick, daily Clean Cabin, Green Dilbert, Favorite Camper, Outstanding Camper, family groups… Man, competition was such a huge part of camp for me. Unfortunately, there were many who believed it took away from what we were really there for. I respect their views… but, let’s face it… most of the people saying that were the ones losing.

From my perspective, the competition enhanced what we were there for and what we were doing. We were there to get closer to God. Having fun was a major tool in accomplishing that. To have as much fun as possible, to me, you had to win. But to win… you had to work hard. So, yes… scrubbing pubes out of the shower and practicing my tiny part of a Pep Rally while yelling at someone else for not caring brought me closer to God. (And whoever I was yelling at. J )

I’ll agree it sometimes distracted from things. I can’t sit and say otherwise… but on the whole, it did so much more good than negative. Honestly, not to be rude, but many of those who felt differently only griped when they lost... and kept their mouths shut when they won. Maybe I didn't gripe any because my groups won so much. :). So, while they made some changes eventually to water down some of that experience, the good thing is it never ruined Camp. It just slowly chipped away. But, hey… the Sphinx is still the Sphinx, even without a nose, right?

This year marks the 20^th Anniversary of my Senior Year at camp. I’ll be writing a long series of blogs recapturing my experiences and memories. For those of you who went, I’d love to hear your comments as you read these. They may get long… but trust me… if you went, while you may be reading about my experiences, you’ll reminisce about your own and crack an involuntary smile.