Socks, Slides, and Shamu Splashes: So Much to be Thankful For

Let’s face it, Bauercrest magic isn’t the Disney-fireworks or perfect hair day kind of magic. It’s more like the “did I just really see Nathan make that incredible save in a one-to-one Color War Euro game” kind of magic. At Bauercrest, the real heroes are the Camp Mom who can spot a missing flip-flop at fifty yards buried under a pile of lost and found, or your counselor who somehow knows exactly where your water bottle ended up right when you needed it most.

Bauercrest days start with reveille, equal parts wake-up call and the not-so-pleasant reminder that, yes, you probably should’ve gone to bed earlier the night before. By 7:58 AM, flip-flops and moccasins are slapping down the path as campers half-sprint, half-sleepwalk to the mess hall, hair uncombed and socks grotesquely mismatched. And of course, the mess hall is its own universe, where every meal is a chance to discover a new stain on your shirt, and stacking games are treated like a competitive sport.

In the July heat, bunk fans are truly heroic machines as they valiantly battle the relentless sun. The gaga pit is where campers demonstrate reflexes that would impress a ninja as those same campers debate the rules with the intensity of seasoned attorneys arguing in front of the Supreme Court. G-Swim always lasts slightly longer than scheduled, and of course everyone loves when Aqua Dan gives the green light to jump off the lake trampoline, even if the technique is more “Shamu splash” than sophisticated dive.

Of course, sports are serious business at Bauercrest, if you consider “serious business” to include believing soccer can be played with the same rules as hockey, or that flag football touchdown celebrations require victory dances that are half-choreographed and half accidental trip. Athletic instruction is where campers learn to dribble, pitch, serve, and shoot, all while dodging a rogue frisbee from the next field over. League games bring out competitive spirit and team pride that rivals a Red Sox-Yankees series. Cheers echo across the field, rivalries fuel epic matchups, and the best part of the game is always the high-fives and laughs you share with teammates, especially after someone attempts a slide into home plate that more so resembles a cartwheel.

And then there’s Color War. When the camp splits into blue and white, the energy is electric, the stakes feel sky-high, and even the most mild-mannered camper is suddenly a master strategist, the loudest voice, and a tug-of-war champion. Whether you’re racing down the hill to sing your team’s songs at the top of your lungs, or staring down your opponent before the opening tip-off of “A-hoop,” Color War is where legends are born, and where you learn that the best victory is celebrating with your friends, not as two separate teams, but as one Bauercrest community.

Bunk chatter after lights out is where the real wisdom happens. Jokes, stories, and questions like, “Is it possible to eat s’mores for breakfast?” get tossed around among friends who won’t judge you for wondering. Traditions turn groups of young strangers into brothers, and nicknames stick long after camp is over, even if nobody truly remembers how “Nuggets” started.

There are the little victories: a camper’s first serve that actually lands in, a bunk finally winning inspection after a week-long battle with endless lost and found, and counselors teaching new skills while sharing their wisdom with the next generation. Epic games get invented on the spot, spontaneous singalongs break out whenever someone hums anything resembling a pop song, and laughter echoes so loudly you’re convinced that whoever lives in the trailer behind bunk six can hear it.

But here’s the thing: all these little quirks, the laughter, and the triumphs add up. They become the feeling you get when you see a friend after a year apart and pick up right where you left off. They’re the pride in your bunk, the laughter down the hill, and the knowledge that, for a few weeks each summer, you’re home. At Bauercrest, the small stuff isn’t just background noise, it’s the heartbeat of camp. It’s what turns campers into Crestmen and moments into memories that last long after final taps.

So this Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for every little thing that makes camp, camp. I hope that your socks find their way home, that your “milk & cookies” are always soft and chewy, and that you always carry the spirit of Bauercrest with you. Because here, we know the little things are really the big things after all.

Happy Thanksgiving from all of us at Bauercrest.