Y-Camp

Mama and daddy felt it was important that we develop an independence growing up. Part of that independence was going away to overnight camp during the summer.

Athens Y-Camp was less than 20 miles from our house. It had a reputation for being one of the best boys camps in the south-east. A tradition began in our family, when Tom was young, that each of us would go.

The first year of camp was 2 weeks, second year 2 weeks. Two years of overnight camp were mandatory, after that you had the option of going away for four weeks and on up until a summer job at Y-Camp could be yours.

Tom and Sam both loved Y-Camp. Me, not so much!

Tom went away every summer, first as a camper, then Counselor in Training and finally a full-fledged Counselor.

Sam, same thing. They both loved the Camp experience and the opportunities it gave them to meet boys from all over the country and develop leadership traits that would help them in life.

As the summer of 1972 approached, I knew it was now time. Eight years old and time for overnight summer camp. I wasn't excited, no matter how hard Sam or mama or daddy tried to convince me that it would be fun, I wasn't buying it.

Mama needed me at home, who would she watch Days of Our Lives with? I couldn't go away to camp, mama and daddy wouldn't have anyone to talk to. A million things went through my mind, tons of excuses, but the tradition would not be broken by me, I was going to Athens Y-Camp, two weeks, end of story!

Sunday morning, first day of camp arrived and I loaded into the car with mama and daddy for our journey to camp. Just a short drive from home, but for me an agonizing trip to a land of mystery, with people I didn't know, activities I couldn't imagine and no mama or daddy anywhere in-sight, the next two weeks were going to be the worst this little 8 year old had ever experienced!

Upon our arrival, I was greeted by my counselor. (No, not the kind that would put me in a padded room with a white coat, but the guy who would be my mentor for the next two weeks.) We were led to my home away from home. A wooden cabin, with wooden floors, wooden walls, tin roof and NO BATHROOM! The cabin was filled with bunk beds, separated into two rooms, 12 boys all my age and a counselor would now occupy this cabin for the next two weeks. It was immediately obvious, there would be no turn down service or mints on the pillow at this place, we were roughing it.

Once I was settled into my new accommodations, the first big test of camp was at hand. Put on your bathing suit and head to the lake for a swimming test. The lake manifested every fear I had about overnight camp. For years I had heard my brothers talk about how cold it was, how high the diving board was, how the Vandiver Man used it to put bodies in....over and over again, that lake! Now, I was about to dive into that lake, headfirst and prove my manhood. An eight year old proving that I could swim from one dock to the next, approximately 25 yards, all for the right to be anywhere other than the beginners swim class.

I walked out onto that white dock and stood, looking at the other end, I knew I could make it but every ounce of doubt I could muster filled me up! The water is cold, the diving board is too high, and there are dead bodies in this lake! There was nothing I wanted more than to be in the intermediate swim group, but as much as I didn't want to be classified a beginner, I certainly didn't want to go in that lake.

After some minutes of nudging me closer and closer to the water, my counselor finally got me to jump in. For the next five minutes or so, I kicked and paddled myself from one end to the other, just like a beginning swimmer would do. It was obvious, I would be in the beginning swim class, no intermediate for me. I let my fears get the best of me, something I should have done and could have done easily was overshadowed by fear of the unknown.

Now after the swim test, it was time to say good-bye to mama and daddy. For two long weeks they would have to be without me, no one to talk to, I know they didn't want me to stay at camp, but the left me and made their way home anticipating the day they could come and retrieve their baby boy.

During those two weeks at Y-Camp, I learned a lot. I had never shared a room with 12 other boys before, it was interesting.

Each morning we would wake up to the sound of a bell that spread throughout the whole camp. 7AM, wake up, in your pajamas, underwear or whatever you sleep in, run to the top of the hill and meet the camp directors for morning exercises. I would have much preferred morning cartoons, but I adjusted.

At Y-Camp, I learned to clean my plate, it was a requirement. Sometimes not knowing what you are eating is a good thing, a special breakfast called DVOT taught me that lesson. A life-lesson I still carry with me today.

Camp was filled with activities, I took part in archery, arts and crafts, canoe, soccer and every day I went to swimming lessons.

At night, the entire camp would gather in the Lodge after dinner. The lodge was an old wooden building, with tin roof and wrap around porch, anchored by a large rock fireplace on the north wall. Sitting on long hard benches in the lodge we would sing hymns, camp songs and listen to stories of men who made a difference in the lives of others.

Surrounding us in that Lodge were hundreds and hundreds of handmade signs nailed to the walls and ceiling. Each sign had the name, hometown and camp years painted on them. These signs represent the history of Athens Y-Camp and the men who made a difference in the lives of others in big and small ways.

Every day I got more and more comfortable jumping into that cold lake filled with dead bodies that the Vandiver man placed there. Every day I got stronger and stronger, I wasn't a beginner swimmer and I knew it, I was an intermediate and I was going to prove it to everyone!

More than anything else, my favorite part of Camp was the trips we got to take. There were three trips. A day trip to "Frontierland" in Cherokee, NC. A small amusement park with rides and shows and candy!

The second trip was also a day trip, this one I was a bit more concerned about. It was a hike into the bottom of the Tallulah Gorge for an afternoon of skinny dipping at slipper rock. Now, the hike really didn't concern me, but I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to know, sliding down a rock, bare-assed and into a pool of water may not be the best idea. Once again, my fears were unfounded and I had a great time sliding down slippery rock with my fellow campers, free as the wind and naked as a Jay-bird!

The big trip all campers took was the most anticipated of all. A hike into the woods and overnight camp-out. We would cook hot dogs and eat potato chips and be allowed to drink Coke, but before any of that we would have to hike into those mysterious woods that surrounded Athens Y-Camp.

The woods, the very same woods that were the home to the Vandiver man, the very same Vandiver man who had put all those dead bodies in the lake.

Throughout my time at camp, I had seen group after group go off into the woods and come back unscathed, but the thought of having to do it for myself wasn't something I was looking forward to. When the time came our little group of 8 year olds made our way into those dark woods, led by our counselor, who by this time we had come to trust. We walked and walked until we came upon our official campsite.

After we had set up camp, it was time for hot dogs and fun by the camp fire. We ate, we sang songs and we laughed, then it happened. One of the camp workers who had accompanied our group to the campsite began to tell a story.

He told a story of a man who used to live nearby, who was disfigured and made fun of. A man who grew bitter and mean, a man they called the Vandiver man.

The worker told us this story and it grew more and more gruesome. Our tiny band of eight year olds clung to each word, scared to move, scared to breathe and even more scared that we wouldn't hear the entire story.

As the story of the Vandiver man was reaching its climactic high point, out of the deep dark woods surrounding Athens Y-Camp came a voice, a horrific voice....."I AM THE VANDIVER MAN!"

With that, our tiny band of eight year olds collapsed into a screaming, laughing, horrified mess; because instantaneously we knew, we knew there was no Vandiver man, there weren't bodies in the lake, it was all a story, a ghost-story passed down from generation to generation. A myth that taught its young listeners about respecting differences in others, overcoming fears and tradition.

Finally, as my two week adventure at Athens Y-Camp was coming to an end, it was time to showcase what I had learned to my counselors. I presented my works in arts and crafts, archery, trampoline and all the other various skill classes I had participated in.

Now, on the final day, it was time to prove to myself and everyone else that I had overcome my fears. My fear of a mythological figure who put dead bodies in a cold lake that had prevented me from being my best in swimming. It was time to overcome the fear that had held me back from a summer of learning to jump from the high dive into a cold lake, fear that kept me from being my best.

On that day, I walked out on that white dock and peered across the 25 yards to my destination. I was going to swim to that far dock, turn around, come back to my starting point and prove that I had overcome my fears of the lake. Without hesitation, I dove in and I swam, I swam to the far end and came back. I conquered my fears and I swam.

As I went home that year, overcoming my fear of a cold lake, with a too high diving board, filled with dead bodies placed there by a mythological ghost story character didn't seem like that big of a deal. But looking back on it, I realize that lake symbolized much more than swimming, it symbolized a belief that fear is an emotion like any other, it can paralyze you or it can make you stronger, during the summer of 1972, fear made me stronger.

I went back to Athens Y-Camp the next year, this time, no longer part of the baby group, but a 9 year old expert. I didn't just conquer the lake that summer, I passed up intermediate swimming and moved straight to advanced. I jumped from the high dive and hit bulls-eyes on the archery field. I may have started out slowly, but in year two, overnight camp was my thing!

At the end of my two weeks mama and daddy came to pick me up, Sam came with them. When they arrived, I was given a handmade sign, with my name on it. Together we made our way into the Lodge and found the perfect spot for my sign to hang, close to Tom and Sam's.

I haven't ever been back to that old Lodge since that day, but I am confident my sign still hangs there.

If you ever find yourself on the Campus of Athens Y-Camp, do me a favor and go in that lodge, look on the western wall, about 3/4 the way up. If you see a sign that says "Ken Rumsey, Clayton, Georgia, 1972 & 1973." Know that sign represents something, it represents a young boy who overcame fears, who learned something about himself and a man who was made better by his two summers at Athens Y-Camp.