The best kind of kidnapping in 25 images

This past weekend, Best Friend and I wore one of our favorite hats, Camp Counselor. We took fourteen campers to hot Somewhere Magical — record-breaking temperatures! — for a very short, very long forty-eight hours.

It feels as if they just walked through our front door, bags and water bottles in tow, nervous smiles and handshakes abound. It also feels as if we’ve known them for years.

They’re ages 26 to 62.

From Chicago, the burbs, Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Washington State.

They have kids, they don’t have kids. They want kids, they don’t want kids.

They do commercial real estate finance and higher-ed admissions, they’re vets and stay at home moms.

They’re single and married, dating and divorced.

They crave the spotlight, they shy away from the spotlight.

They came to connect, to find direction, to do something for themselves, to focus, to find answers to questions like “What do I want to do in life?” and “What makes me happy?”, to find a tribe.

We ate sweet potato tater tots and Twizzlers, produce from the garden and Goldfish.

We discussed. We gluesticked. We listened to music.

We agreed. We disagreed.

We were comfortable. We were uncomfortable.

We talked about the past. We sat in the moment. We envisioned the future.

We were quiet. We were loud.

We laughed. We cried.

We all learned and all taught.

We felt seen and heard and supported.

Our personal issues are so very individual. Our personal issues are so very universal.

We realized we are not alone.


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If going solo, somewhere, to do something, without your phone, in an unmarked white van sounds horribly-wonderful, join us at the next Camp this Fall! Last one of 2016. More info.