Pinewoods 1: an overview
Jul. 21st, 2004 08:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jere7my"Well, I'm back."
Pinewoods was splendid, but not in the usual ways. It was, in fact, quite an atypical Pinewoods. Which is a lovely thing.
Monday through Wednesday were rainy and cold, cold enough that we lit July fires in the camp house and dining hall, cold enough that nearly everyone stayed out of the water. Campers wandered the paths swaddled in sweatshirts and huddled beneath umbrellas. My photographic records of those days are woefully inadequate, because the light quality was poor enough that it wasn't worth spending the bytes. Things warmed up on Thursday, but the week was much less dock- and porch- and water-oriented than usual.
The mean age of the camp dipped significantly this year. K. and I, for the first time, arrived in time for the welcome party before Monday dinner, and were amazed that we had to wade through a knot of college students and Swat alums to get there. For our first year, the camp was clearly graying, and the social center was skewed toward the older folk in the Boston Branch—which made me hesitate before heading to the parties, since I knew we would be part of a small group of younger folk. This time, we were met by a clutch consisting of multiple Mawrtyrs, a bunch of current and former Swatties, Ellen S. and her friend Rachel (just out of high school), and Cat Pixton (stunningly beautiful daughter of the bandleader). I was greeted, of a sudden, by "You're the Jeremy with the seven in his name!"—which was my introduction to Miriam, rising sophomore at Swat. I often feel lost in the shuffle at Pinewoods—not a great dancer, only a middling musician, not a big focus of in-jokes—but her comment made me feel immediately welcome and known.
Miriam of the Long Bangs continued to be part of what made this Pinewoods different for me—we spent a lot of time together, and I felt immediate sympatico with her, in a way I haven't with a new person in a long time. (My second interaction with her came at the party that night, when I patted my thigh and she immediately plopped down upon it for a lengthy backrub, despite having known me for about forty seconds at that point.) It's rare for one person to have such a large effect on my Pinewoods experience; it's usually a group dynamic that makes me feel included or left out. Having a new, intense friendship to explore made me less susceptible to those social paranoias. (She's also eminently crushable—a Hot Bi Babe™ who likes Babylon 5 and wears cute little bikinis. So, hooray.)
I continued to feel welcome and known all week, mostly musically. I played on-stage with the band for four to six dances every night, and I was miked, and I was audible. (Sometimes. Some non-pipery times.) I'll write more about this in a future post, but I finally achieved musical recognition at Pinewoods. I have a real role now, which people—some people, anyway—expect me to fill.
My plan is to post a series of vacation vignettes over the next few days, each one illustrated.
is today's picture: Kendall Ghyll, our home for the week, overlooking Round Pond.
Pinewoods was splendid, but not in the usual ways. It was, in fact, quite an atypical Pinewoods. Which is a lovely thing.
Monday through Wednesday were rainy and cold, cold enough that we lit July fires in the camp house and dining hall, cold enough that nearly everyone stayed out of the water. Campers wandered the paths swaddled in sweatshirts and huddled beneath umbrellas. My photographic records of those days are woefully inadequate, because the light quality was poor enough that it wasn't worth spending the bytes. Things warmed up on Thursday, but the week was much less dock- and porch- and water-oriented than usual.
The mean age of the camp dipped significantly this year. K. and I, for the first time, arrived in time for the welcome party before Monday dinner, and were amazed that we had to wade through a knot of college students and Swat alums to get there. For our first year, the camp was clearly graying, and the social center was skewed toward the older folk in the Boston Branch—which made me hesitate before heading to the parties, since I knew we would be part of a small group of younger folk. This time, we were met by a clutch consisting of multiple Mawrtyrs, a bunch of current and former Swatties, Ellen S. and her friend Rachel (just out of high school), and Cat Pixton (stunningly beautiful daughter of the bandleader). I was greeted, of a sudden, by "You're the Jeremy with the seven in his name!"—which was my introduction to Miriam, rising sophomore at Swat. I often feel lost in the shuffle at Pinewoods—not a great dancer, only a middling musician, not a big focus of in-jokes—but her comment made me feel immediately welcome and known.
Miriam of the Long Bangs continued to be part of what made this Pinewoods different for me—we spent a lot of time together, and I felt immediate sympatico with her, in a way I haven't with a new person in a long time. (My second interaction with her came at the party that night, when I patted my thigh and she immediately plopped down upon it for a lengthy backrub, despite having known me for about forty seconds at that point.) It's rare for one person to have such a large effect on my Pinewoods experience; it's usually a group dynamic that makes me feel included or left out. Having a new, intense friendship to explore made me less susceptible to those social paranoias. (She's also eminently crushable—a Hot Bi Babe™ who likes Babylon 5 and wears cute little bikinis. So, hooray.)
I continued to feel welcome and known all week, mostly musically. I played on-stage with the band for four to six dances every night, and I was miked, and I was audible. (Sometimes. Some non-pipery times.) I'll write more about this in a future post, but I finally achieved musical recognition at Pinewoods. I have a real role now, which people—some people, anyway—expect me to fill.
My plan is to post a series of vacation vignettes over the next few days, each one illustrated.
is today's picture: Kendall Ghyll, our home for the week, overlooking Round Pond.
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Date: 2004-07-22 01:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-22 05:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
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