by Adam Kaplan
As a part of our annual camp reunion trip to New York City, one of my favorite things to do is to visit the Statue of Liberty. I find it immensely inspiring to view Lady Liberty and to imagine the experience that millions of immigrants had as they arrived in America to begin their lives anew. As they approached New York harbor, I am sure that many of them found the magnitude of the cityscape to be incredibly intimidating. Would they be able to succeed in this huge city? In this massive country? And then, as the boat moved into the harbor, I suspect their fears were greatly diminished as they gazed upon the welcoming face of Lady Liberty.
Surely, a great many would-be Americans were comforted to know that, although there would obviously be challenges ahead, America welcomed them, wanted to help them, and hoped to make them a part of their society. So naturally, every time I glimpse the Statue of Liberty and imagine the scene above, my thoughts turn to camp. Of course, the list of things that make my thoughts turn to camp is pretty much endless, but…
These troubled times, in particular, lead me to consider the similarities between an immigrant arriving on America’s shores and a new camper arriving at Nebagamon’s entrance. Towering Lady Liberty—not to mention the Manhattan skyline—must have made the immigrants feel insignificant… yet at the same time important. Likewise, when a first-time camper encounters 18-foot-tall Paul Bunyan staring down at him, he likely feels somewhat small… and yet he probably senses that he’s about to embark on a larger-than-life adventure.
Perhaps immigrants at Ellis Island were familiar with the poetic words engraved on a bronze plaque at the base of the statue since 1903: “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…” And certainly, new campers can’t miss the sign on the other side of the Big House, the one announcing nearly 30 different languages—in French, Hebrew, Danish, Spanish, Swahili, Afrikaans, Vietnamese, Portuguese and so many others—that This Shall Be A Place Of Welcome For All.
So, despite the intimidating nature of that colossal and fake lumberjack at our entrance, I believe that this sign (the brainchild of Nardie Stein several decades ago) communicates what Lady Liberty’s poem—“The New Colossus”—hoped to convey: There will be challenges ahead, but Nebagamon welcomes them, wants to help them, and hopes to make them part of our family.
Of course, those words outside of the Big House are absolutely meaningless unless we embrace that ideal. Our beautiful and inspiring sign is only truly inspiring if it actually represents who we are at Nebagamon. Every summer it is up to all of us who live on those 77 acres to dedicate ourselves to those words, to make sure that This Shall Be A Place Of Welcome For All applies to every soul that comes through those gates.
As any Nebagamon alumnus knows, this doesn’t happen without a great deal of conscious effort and commitment to this ideal. It would be easy for those of us that have been around camp for a few years to reject the newcomers. We loved camp last summer, and the summer before, and the summer before that….we like it how it IS. Will there mere presence of new arrivals make things different—perhaps even worse? But of course, we all know that This Shall Be A Place Of Welcome For All always makes Nebagamon better, year after year, which is why it is an ideal that we cherish.
Everything old was once new. Most every beloved activity and every iconic tradition at camp was once a novel idea. Paul Bunyan himself—and A.K. Agikamik, actually—didn’t make an appearance until 1937. The village system started in 1940. Chef’s Cap debuted in 1947. The Annex was built in 1954. The “Hits Brothers” debuted in 1972. The Throck mural didn’t arrive until 1973.
So on many occasions, we have embraced the new, and it has become part of the fabric of Nebagamon. And this is especially true regarding the new members of the Nebagamon family. Camp grows and improves by working hard to make sure that everyone who enters feels a part of our family and feels valued. Our camp family is made better by keeping our circle of friends broad and by welcoming new friends into that circle—friends who may look or speak or think differently. This diversity and inclusivity broadens our pool of skills and ideas, making us more forward thinking, more understanding, simply better.
So, each summer, it is our sacred responsibility at camp to make sure that each individual feels acknowledged, respected, cared for, and fully aware that, indeed, This Shall Be A Place Of Welcome For All.