The storms from the night before were gone and forgotten and the sun was shining in a nearly cloudless sky this warm late July afternoon. We gathered to bid farewell to an old friend, one that all these years later we still refuse to forget. While there were many unfamiliar faces, there were no strangers; we were all family coming to say goodbye to that which has made us a family. I can only speak for myself, although I believe others may have shared my feelings when I say it was indeed a bittersweet day.
I remember the trouble I had deciding if I should attend this farewell picnic, after all I do not remember the friends I made there as a camper over 30 years ago and I would not know any one there. In addition to that, I have seen the pictures of how the camp has changed since its closing and I was afraid of how it may have been allowed to fall into a disappointing state of decay with surveyors and bulldozers soon to arrive. I pondered this decision until it was almost to late, in fact late the night after requested reservation deadline I finally sent an email to Sister Mary Morley and sent her my money the following day. Even having completed the reservation procedures, I was still hesitant about making the journey for fear of what the current state of the property might be. When the time came, I knew I would never forgive myself if I were to pass this last opportunity to see the sight of so many wonderful childhood memories.
I left my home and headed for camp, wishing still the purpose of the trip was to take my daughter for two weeks of fun instead of saying goodbye to an old friend. I was still a little apprehensive about going; after all I have not been on the grounds in 31 years, almost to the day in fact. Session 5, 1973 was the last time I was on the grounds, what would I see now after the camp had been closed 16 years? As I got out of the urban sprawl heading west on New Haven road, and the scenery became more rural, I passed through the town of Fernald and muttered a few unsavory things under my breath as this was the source of some of the decision to close the camp. On down the road, through the sleepy little town of New Baltimore I continued on until at last there were the gates of Fort Scott. I turned left and headed up the hill to the boy’s camp.
This was my first time to attend any of the alumni gatherings so I was not sure what to expect in the way of attendance. I knew that I would not know anyone there, but was unprepared for the friendship and fellowship I would find. I was just turning of the car when the woman beside me introduced herself, while I do not recall her name I know she was a counselor before I was old enough to attend and a camper before I was even born. The day continued on that way, I never ran into a stranger or someone who would not talk to me. We were all family, perhaps distant cousins, but Fort Scott family just the same. The camp was alive, although most likely and quite sadly for the last time, with campers all over the grounds. There were many of us who tried to walk the overgrown trails in the woods, visitors to each and every building, the sound of children playing and laughing made it seem like summer camp again, even if just for a short while. It took me very little time to realize that coming here was the right thing to do, I would have regretted it forever if I had not come. Having thought I had seen all I wanted to see, and with most of the visitors now clustered in groups, I thought perhaps it was time to go. As I headed out of camp, and neared the area of the old corral, I recalled the old graveyard at the edge of the property and remembered there was an old story they would tell us at camp. I could not recall the story, and I asked the man at the gate if he could recall the story. “No”, he replied, “I only came once when I was eight, I am here as a spouse, but there are many counselors up there and I am sure one of them could tell you.” So I turned around and up the hill I went, I was on a mission and certainly I would find my story. I never did find anyone who could recall the story, but many remembered that there was such a story. It was probably just as well, for I am sure I would have not gotten the story I was told in my youth, the story was meant as a little scare and probably varied from year to year. The good news was I stayed a few hours longer and talked to many more people. I was even lucky enough to find someone who took me to the old graveyard so I could see if it was real or not. Ok, so the story was fake, I knew that then too, but I now know the graveyard is real and lying there are the Radcliffs from England, all buried in the late 1800’s. I wonder what the poor spook that haunted the cabins does now with no children to scare! Thank you all for taking the time to talk with me and share your memories of Fort Scott, this day will be as important to me as were my times spent there as a youth. I do apologize for remembering no names of the people I talked to, remembering names of new acquaintances has always been my major shortcoming.
It is quite sad in my opinion to see such a great resource like Fort Scott will be denied to the generations to come. Fort Scott offered much to all in attendance, campers and counselors alike. It is an even bigger shame that the bulldozers will level or memories for what will most likely be hundreds of look alike vinyl sided homes. Fort Scott is not the only camp to suffer this fate; many properties across the nation have been sold for profit and denied to the children of the future. Private camps, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, church camps and more are closing and being redeveloped. Offer your assistance to the camp your child now attends, give money to fund special needs, offer your time to help maintain or repair facilities, donate supplies or materials needed for the camp, just do not stand back and accept the closure of another camp. I understand the reasons given for the camp closure, although I am not sure I accept them. Fernald may have been an issue then, but it most certainly is not an issue that prevents the construction of as many as 900 new homes all with families, children and pets. Do what you can to help another camp survive; it seems our camp is not so lucky. Thank you for letting me stand on my soapbox for just a short while.
