This year I was in one of the smaller cabins. Jay and Don were the other counselors in my cabin. My camper was Mike C. Jay's campers were Michael P. and Kevin. Don had J.J., my camper from a year before.

Michael P. was a very cute and funny boy with down's syndrome. Mike P. was our entertainment, constantly picking us up with his humor and honesty. One night we were getting ready for bed and a bug flew in our cabin. I took a rolled up newspaper and swatted the bug.

Mike P. looked at me and said, "Why did you do that?"

"I didn't want him bothering us." I answered.

With a straight face and complete honesty he answered "But there's enough room."

You're right Mike. There is always enough room, for all of us.

Kevin's mother accurately described him on his health from when she said he was chronologically age 12, and mentally age 25. Kevin was very street-wise and had a very quick wit. Kevin's muscles were not developed and he moved around in an electric wheelchair. He had enough arm movement to feed himself but needed help dressing or getting in and out of his wheelchair. He also craved his independence. If he could do it on his own, he wanted to. Kevin was the only African American camper, but that didn't bother him. One day when Jay was helping him in the shower he looked at all the soap lather and started yelling "Help I'm turning white!"

I moved through the week on pure adrenaline. I hardly slept, waking at every noise, expecting the worst. When he was awake, I was constantly trying to keep Mike C. laughing. I must have asked him if he needed a drink or adjusted in his chair 50 times a day.

Mike C. especially enjoyed lake time. He would wear a headpiece that stopped his head from going under water, but permitted him to kick himself around. He really enjoyed the freedom of the water. It was the only place he did not need any help to move around.

Mike C. had the wheelchair equivalent of a LandRover. It had four heavily treaded wheels each with it's own shock absorber. One day I decided to try it on the path through the woods to the dining hall. It really rolled. I started jogging and the wheelchair was bouncing all over the place. Mike C. was laughing so hard he was gasping for air. I jokingly asked him if this was more fun then Disney World. His left hand flew up in the air. I took that for a very emphatic:"Yes".

Bobby also signed up for camp this year. Luckily he made it. During one of our daily water battles on the lake Bobby and his counselor, Becky, were involved in a particularly heated war. Bobby was sliding all over his paddleboat, but he refused to stop throwing water to worry about something as trivial as holding on. Bobby started slipping out of the boat. Becky caught him as he became partially submerged.

Mark, from scouts, also signed up for camp. Mark was assigned to Julie, a high school aged counselor. I'm sure she had no idea what she was in for. She spent the week chasing after Mark as he hunted vampires. He is always on an adventure; this summer every dark corner held a vampire and anyone whose teeth were the least bit pointed was certainly a vampire.

Mark loves straws, pencils and Popsicle sticks. Mix them with his imagination and the combinations are endless. They can be anything from scissors to razors to guns. Mark gave many free haircuts and shaves with his "barber tools".

One of the counselors, Terry, happens to have gray hair. So every time Mark walked by Terry he'd say "Hi Grandpa!" Of course, in order to get to Terry, we encourage Mark to call him that whenever we could. If Mark found something that he did make other people laugh, he would do it over and over.

When Thursday, departure day, arrived Mike C.'s Mother was the first to arrive. She went up to Mike C. and he looked the other way. He wasn't ready to leave. She said that she was glad that he had fun but she wished he would have missed her a little bit. Then he gave her a big smile. He did miss her but he wanted to finish the day with the rest of the kids. She sat back and watched.

The day did end and Mike C. and his mother left. No matter how long or hard the week at camp is, every year the hardest part is saying good-bye.

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