How does one mark the passage of time during a camp summer? Is it a matter of acknowledging the days? Sunday services, Monday cookouts, Cruiser Day, Paul Bunyan Day… Is it weeks or sessions? Four-week campers, eight-week campers… No, when I really think about it, and when most of us look back on our Northwoods summers, I would suggest that it’s mostly a matter of moments. Here at Camp Nebagamon, we’re in the business of making memories — one moment at a time.

Years later, those moments come back into our thoughts in various ways. It may be a discovery of long-forgotten camp artifacts, a spark of recall regarding an unforgettable trip to camp, a past-and-present encounter that calls for a discussion of camp’s highlights, or photos that bring us back years or decades to a particular time and place. You can find all of those in this MEMORIES-themed issue of The Keylog.

But each of us has those memory moments filed in our brain. Password: 54849. Sometimes they reflect seminal moments in our camp experience; sometimes it’s just a recollection of something goofy or spontaneous or life-affirming. By way of example, off the top of my head, here are a handful of moments that rush into my mind when I open the floodgates:

Moment #1: Despite the fact that I have turned into a relatively nice adult, I was not always a nice kid — so much so, that one of my most important and detailed memories of my camp experience…of my childhood…was a meeting in the Lumberjack Push Shack during my 8^th grade summer with Nardie and Sally. I vividly remember being summoned there by my village director that afternoon. I had a small sense of dread as talks with him were never pleasant. But when I opened the door and saw Sally and Nardie sitting there, a whole new level of dread set in. This was the big one…I braced myself to hear a litany of examples of what I had done wrong and an order to pack my bags. As it turned out, this was not a meeting to enumerate my numerous incidents of poor behavior. Quite the opposite really. It was a meeting in which my camp directors told me that they saw within me the makings of someone special and a good leader. They wanted me to know that they saw the potential in me and really challenged me to find that potential and live up to its promise. My Nebagamon career — and without exaggeration, my life — changed in that moment. I promised myself, and my camp directors, that I would do better….be better. And ever since that day, I have tried to do so. (And it didn’t hurt that they also informed me that if I didn’t start to move in the direction of reaching my potential, I would be sent home early and not be welcomed back to Nebagamon again!!)

Moment #2: I was not a big tripper by any stretch of the imagination. Truth be told, I used to take one trip each session just to keep my counselors off my back.  By the time I was a 9^th grade camper, I had never even ventured into the Boundary Waters. I finally decided to go. As anyone who works in the camp office will tell you, to this day, I remain proud of my Round-to-Kawishiwi six-day trip. I can tell you where we camped, the length of the portages, and all of the members of the trip. It is a memory burned into my brain. I specifically remember an afternoon at an island campsite on Little Saganaga Lake….when nothing special happened. Just a group of guys sitting around on the rocks all afternoon having fun and telling stories. Again, not a particularly remarkable experience, but, to this day, one of my most important experiences in nature.

Moment #3: Cruiser Days are always punctuation marks in a camper’s experience. Having said that, by the time one becomes a Lumberjack, it can be hard to fully buy into yet another Star Wars Day on Cruiser Day! Our counselors that week decided that we would try something new. A true CRUISE-er Day. We would paddle across Lake Nebagamon and up the Minnesuing Creek all the way to Lake Minnesuing itself. To be clear, the Minnesuing Creek is very much that… a creek. It is not really conducive to paddling. So the day was a challenging one. From portaging over countless fallen logs, to mosquito infestations, to more leeches than any of us had ever experienced, the day was full of things to test our mettle and dampen our spirits. And yet, when we finally reached Lake Minnesuing, we felt as though we were Lewis and Clark (except that we actually found what we sought!) Our celebratory feast of soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches was one of the best meals I have ever eaten.

Moment #4: My full circle memory as a counselor involves a very challenging camper from Denver. He was a bright guy and not without charm and promise, but he just seemed to have trouble being kind to the others around him. From bullying episodes, to unkind jokes that were meant to hurt, to acts of vandalism around camp, this guy just was not cutting it as a camper… So, I invited him to meet with me in… the Lumberjack Push Shack. It was there that told him that I saw within him the makings of someone special and a good leader. I wanted him to know that I saw the potential in him and really challenged him to find that potential and live up to its promise. He took what I said to heart and had a great final two summers at camp, working to be that person that he knew was inside. He became an outstanding counselor, and we are still close to this day.  (And it didn’t hurt that I also informed him that if he didn’t start to move in the direction of reaching his potential, he would be sent home early and not be welcomed back to Nebagamon again!!)

by Brad Herzog

I can’t think of camp without thinking of keepsakes. I’ve often said that the vast majority of my childhood memories seem to revolve around the nine weeks a year (family camp counts!) that I spent in the Northwoods. But keepsakes are valuable to assist in maintaining those memories, sort of the way a grainy home movie might remind you of the trip you took to Disney World at age seven.

So one of my prized possessions is a Ziploc bag brimming with letters from camp. Naturally, my mom saved them all. I know I’m not the only guy my age who still has them. Andy Cohen, who experienced the same six camper summers as I, even printed some of his saved letters in his memoir, Most Talkative, and read a few of them on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. And for his 40th birthday about a dozen years ago, his friends produced a video for him showing a few of his famous pals — the likes of Jerry Seinfeld and Liam Neeson — hilariously reading some of those letters aloud.

And my six-year cabinmate, Jonathan Ringel, saved some letters, too. One of them has proven to confirm a vital memory to me. You see, on a cabin trip as a Swamper in 1978, I caught what wound up being the biggest fish snagged all summer — an impressive northern pike. Remarkably, a photograph exists of me holding a fishing pole bent dramatically. Just as remarkably, the photo doesn’t show the darn fish! The proof of the biggest fish I’ve ever caught is missing. In fact, I even reference it at the beginning of a TED talk I gave several years ago about “Catching Creative Ideas” — as an example of how we’re sometimes forced to use our imagination.

So the idea for a talk about ideas began with the above frustrating photo. But thanks to Jonathan Ringel, I finally have firsthand confirmation. Jonathan sent me a letter he came across… and there it is! In writing! “Brad Herzog caught a 20 inch fish.” Sure, for years I’ve been recalling it as a 24-incher. But still… proof.

So what a find it is when we come across something unexpected from our past, something to spark a memory, something to take you back in time to a moment that is suddenly vivid in your recollection. Frankly, this happens every time I return to visit my parents in the house in which I grew up in Deerfield, Illinois. I spent much of my time there sifting through about 50 years of collected stuff — in old files, in basement boxes, etc. I consider it “decluttering.” My parents, given my frequent “did you even know you had this?” admonitions, consider it rather annoying. But really, I’m exploring. I’m seeking out hidden treasures.

It’s a tall task, a bit like trying to make sense of the the stuff brimming in the Big House… and the Wanegan… and the Herb Hollinger Museum. A sort of organized chaos. But, actually, it’s an apt comparison. Why? Because amid the generations of materials (much of which could be easily discarded), I came across an unexpected treasure. It came in the form of a large envelope of Nebaga-memorabilia that had been saved by my dad, Buddy Herzog. So what do you find when you dive into the stuff that Bud Herzog saved during his nearly six-decade association with Camp Nebagamon? What kind of memories were saved? Let’s take a look:

There were old photos — cabin pics, staff photos, my father and his good pal (the late Al Goldman) livening up a Follies, my father and grandfather standing next to the Council Ring in its 1952 iteration — but there were also some really cool keepsakes. I found, for instance, a couple of staff contracts — to be a C.I.T. in 1957 and a first-year junior counselor in 1958 — signed by Max J. Lorber and Bud Herzog. The C.I.T. stint was unpaid, the J.C. job nearly so — $75 was his salary. “You’re signature on this contract,” it read, “implies that you are satisfied with it.” I’m sure it was gleefully signed.

Equally fascinating to me was another find — the actual scripts from both a Sunday Service and a Council Fire at the beginning of the 1960s. Bud and Al did the Sunday Service together, a sort of farewell after several years on staff. They called it “This We Have Gained,” and it was about “gains which are noticed only after a relatively long period of time” — the Nebagamon experience “of a more hidden, intangible nature” in which “values are concerned with relationship between people…” That was in 1961. Many of my father’s camp relationships still thrive 59 years later.

Also in the treasure box, a photograph of Andy Rinde, autographed by the man himself. Rinde was a legend at camp, a staff member from 1937 to 1963. That’s Rinde, as in Rinde Ball. So it’s kind of like having an autographed picture of Rudolf Diesel or Louis Braille or Charles Boycott. Kind of.

Another photograph find dates back to 1967, a rather blurry pic of my dad standing beneath the “Camp Nebagamon” sign during one of his first forays into family camp. It was the start of a tradition that is one of the most meaningful in his life — he’s a been a family camper for something like 45 of the past 50 years. But what’s particularly intriguing about the photo is this: You’ll notice no Paul Bunyan in the background. It was that fleeting moment between Pauls.

Also saved with care over the years were a couple of letters from Muggs Lorber himself, including one in which he expresses his pleasure at meeting Bud’s five-year-old twin sons Brian and Brad and another quick note from several years later, in 1981, less than a year before he passed away. That solemn occasion was marked by two final artifacts. One was a copy of Nardie Stein’s marvelous eulogy (on March 21, 1982), which included these sentences: “It is said that we mortals live in hope and die in despair; that men are only dreamers who reach for the stars. We remember today a person who early in life looked up, saw what he wanted to do, and then did it.”

And finally, I found a typewritten letter written from Bud Herzog to Janet Lorber in Miami Beach soon after: “I remember when I was at the University of Michigan one of my assignments was to write a paper about the man that I most admired. I chose to write this paper on Muggs Lorber… Muggs had the uncanny ability when talking to an individual, whether this individual be eight years old or 68 years old, to instill.. the feeling that Muggs was totally interested in the person… He made you feel special. He made you feel that you were the most important person at that moment in Muggs’s life.”

So that’s what camp keepsakes offer. A recollection of an impactful scene, a proud moment, an unforgettable mentor, a valued emotion. I placed the above treasures, along with a whole bunch of other old camp photos, into a “this is your life” scrapbook that I put together for my dad’s 80th birthday last July. Many of us have those camp memories stored somewhere. But perhaps some of us have forgotten where. It’s never too late to rediscover them.

Recalled by Reed Maidenberg with Mike Maidenberg

It’s the fall of 1958. Muggs and Janet Lorber drive to my home in Marion, Indiana to present to me and my parents a funky slide show and eight mm movie about a place called Camp Nebagamon, which we had heard about from my parents’ friends, the Pragers in Indianapolis. Their son Tom had gone there and had high praise. Suitably impressed with the Muggs and Janet presentation, we agree that I should try Nebagamon for the eight-week session beginning near the end of June 1959.

With our plans cemented, I say I would like to try the camp train option leaving from Indianapolis to Chicago on the Monon Railroad. Campers and staff would gather in Chicago, attend a baseball game, then leave in the evening for Wisconsin on the overnight train.

I am beyond excited, and of course nervous about the summer ahead, the newness of the experience, and the unknown. But I am a pretty adventurous kid. I like to try new things. I’m up for it.

I don’t recall much about the gathering with campers and staff. That’s all a blur. But the baseball game was unforgettable, for entirely unforeseen reasons. It’s the Yankees vs. the White Sox in Comiskey Park. The White Sox have one of the best teams in years, and they will go on to win the pennant, though lose to the Dodgers in the World Series. For the moment, though, I am a big- time Yankees fan, and I’m thrilled to see my team!

All of us campers are seated together with Nebagamon staff along the first base line behind the Yankees dugout. The parents are seated a bit further away. My dad, Milt Maidenberg, is at the game but he will be leaving to drive home to Indiana well before the game ends.

It’s Billy Pierce pitching for the Sox, Art Ditmar for the Yankees, who have their now legendary players on the roster: Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Gil McDougald, Hector Lopez, Bobby Richardson, Bill “Moose” Skowron, Hank Bauer.

It’s the top of the sixth inning. The Yankees are leading 6-2. Moose Skowron is up to bat. He hits a towering pop-up that soars above the dugout, and we watch it with rapt attention. Some campers have brought their mitts to the game. They take them out, eyes on the now plunging ball.

Down it comes, nearer and nearer. The mitts are outstretched, like flowers awaiting raindrops. All eyes follow the ball’s descent. Down, down, down…

Blam! The ball hits the top of the dugout and caroms toward us! I watch it fly over my head behind me, then I see a hand reach up and make a barehand catch! It’s my dad! Pure reflex! He is walking over to find me to say goodbye and catches the ball! The stadium crowd erupts in a cheer. I am beside myself with excitement!

Milt, my hero in so many ways, adds another feather to his cap. He comes down a few rows, presents me with the ball, gives me a hug and kiss, and leaves for the drive back to Marion.

I have a cool thing to share with my cabinmates. I’ll be in Swamper One this summer, Muggs’s last as director, with the great Paul Kent as counselor. The overnight train ride from Chicago to Hayward is magical and memorable. I’m sleeping in the upper bunk, and the rocking and rolling motion portends the changes coming in my life, and in the lives of all others in the years to come. I don’t remember sleeping that much.

The railroads are nearing the end of their heyday, and their many decades of service to the travelers of the country. President Eisenhower has championed a great network of Interstate Highways that will serve the ever growing number of private automobiles, with their bombastic and often grandiose designs, giant tail fins, huge iconic lumbering machines that will cruise this great network of roads and render the railroads obsolete for mass passenger travel.

I have this beautiful scuffed baseball, along with a few others, in my drawer in my room at home for years. Then, as I grow older and look to places far away for new experiences and adventures, I leave my home in Indiana, and the treasures of my boyhood gathered in a few shoeboxes. One day I will return to find not only my room has been completely gutted, my built-in desk and dresser removed, but my treasured objects are also gone! I thought they were safe, but the vicissitudes of time and my seeming indifference to their fate made these totems of my youth vulnerable to the crusading remodeling instincts of my mother.

I don’t have the scuffed Skowron foul ball anymore. My parents have both passed away, and the family home was sold in 2009 after having been built and occupied by our family for 61 years.  

What remains are the memories formed in the head and heart of a young boy. They are as vital to me today as in that instant when I saw the grin on my father’s face as he put a baseball in my hand, and I left for my first summer at Camp Nebagamon.

by Brad Herzog

Trails Forward is an opportunity to mix Camp Nebagamon’s THEN with its NOW, bringing camp alumni back to chat with current campers about their interesting jobs — and sometimes to create projects together. A couple of summers ago, I had the opportunity to talk with campers about the writing life, including a number of rhyming alphabet picture books that I’ve written about everything from baseball and the Olympics to the environment and immigrants. Then a half-dozen campers — Jordan Carlin, Emmitt Gerstein, Aidan Capes, Atlas Barnes, Linus Quinn-Pasin, and Matan Radwin — assisted me in brainstorming an alphabet rhyme about Camp Nebagamon itself. The following is our collaborative creation:

A is for arrival. The yellow light! There’s Paul!

We’re so glad to back home at “A Place of Welcome for All.”

What a beautiful place to B, from the Brule to the BWCA.

The Big House, bug juice, the Buddy Board, and the bell to start the day.

C is for campers and counselors, for CNOC and candy lines,

Cabin cookouts, Cruiser Days, the climbing wall above the pines.

D is the directing duos. Through the decades they have shown

There’s a destiny that guides us, but none goes his way alone.

Rub your eyes and yawn. The wake-up bell is ringing.

It’s E – “Everybody Rise and Shine.” The kitchen staff is singing.

Four-square, fishing, family camp… F means lots of fun.

It’s for the friends we’ve found here. We cherish every one.

G? There’s lots of options for our next Nebaga-rhyme.

G-swim! The Grundy Undy! A GTC! That’s a good time.

Head down to the Waterfront. No camp has one that’s better.

The swimming dock is in good shape. An H. That’s our next letter.

I is the infirmary staff that keeps us on our feet

For a trek to Isle Royale, the 8^th grade Big Trip treat

J is for the J-stroke. Keep paddling. Don’t stop.

It’s also for a place to rest. We call it the Jop.

At each Sunday Council Fire, full of laughs and learning,

K is for a keylog to Keep the Fires Burning.

The Lower Diamond, Lorber Point, the lake we know so well.

The Logger Lover. The Little House. That’s our letter L.

M is MOCA, the MOD, and mountain biking, too.

And don’t forget to fill your jug with good ol’ Mountain Dew.

N must be for Nature Lore, a place to celebrate

The wonders all around us that make the Northwoods great.

The O-tent, the O-Cup… At Orienteering every day,

We use a map and compass to help us find our way.

Paul Bunyan awaits us. That’s our letter P.

It’s the Project Board, village pushes, and photography.

The quiet of the Quetico, paddling a canoe.

This Big Trip destination is our letter Q.

R is for the Rec Hall, our raucous dining hall.

The heart of camp just may be in this place most of all.

Sleep late on a Sunday before you rise and shine.

S is for a Sunday Service at the Chuck Hirsch Shrine.

“Thanks for the Pines” – that’s our T. It puts us in the mood

To appreciate the camp we love and express our gratitude.

Let’s climb to the Upper Diamond. That’s our letter U.

Up high, under a massive sky – an unforgettable view.

Swampers, Loggers, Axemen, Lumberjacks… What we do call these?

V is for the villages – camp’s communities.

Wilderness trips from Wisconsin. That’s our W.

The Waterfront, the Wanegan, the fun of Wanna-do.

X is for the X-boats. Catch a cool lake breeze

And skim along the water, sailing past the trees.

Y is for the Yo-Yo Islands, a land so far away.

There’s Ug. There’s Mug. Let’s all salute and welcome Chief A.K.

Z… Zero days left of camp. Oh, it’s such a bummer.

We zip our duffels and count the weeks until we’re back next summer.

Want an inspiring way to experience CN year-round? Leave it on your coffee table. There are still copies of THANKS FOR THE PINES: A Celebration of Camp Nebagamon available here. Hundreds of photos, dozens of essays, countless memories. Open it any time your feeling wistful.

Keep us posted! You can send life updates to Louis Levin in the Camp Nebagamon office (louis@campnebagamon.com) or directly to Keylog editor Brad Herzog (brad@bradherzog.com).

Ken Lewis (Prospect, KY 61, 75) is a liquor retailer and entrepreneur who owns the New Riff distillery in Newport, KY, known for its rye whiskey blends… Brian Herzog (Highland Park, IL 78-83, 85-89) and Chad Goldenberg (Hopkins, MN 78-83, 85-89) are partners in a business called Hotel Staffing Solutions, headquartered in Northbrook, IL… Brad Herzog (Deerfield, IL/Pacific Grove, CA) has published a new book, DETOUR: A Cross-Country Drive Through America’s Wrong Turns, which includes a few pages about a familiar 77 acres in Wisconsin. You can read more about it here… Justin Karbel (Detroit/Stamford, CT 79-83) is Managing Director of Land n Sea, a New York-based apparel manufacturer, where he has worked for 20 years… Jay Sternberg (Bethesda, MD 82-86, 89-90, 95) lives in Maryland with his wife and two sons. For the past five years, he has served as Vice President of Marketing for Operation Homefront, a national nonprofit serving America’s military families… Jill Kiersky Marcus (Chicago 89-95) started a new job as Assistant Professor, Family Medicine at Rush University in Chicago… Kim Swenson (Superior, WI/Hong Kong 89-97, 01) is the communications lead in corporate real estate at HSBC in Hong Kong.

Amber Burvall (San Diego 99, 12-19) is a lactation consultant at Sharp Healthcare and also runs a private practice visiting new moms at home. She also started her own handmade swimwear and lingerie business called Surfmade in San Diego… Robby Balikov (Chicago/Bloomington, IN 01-06, 08-11) is currently getting his MBA at Indiana University’s Kelley Business School…Recently engaged Max Sapiro (Englewood, CO/Park City, UT 02-07, 09-12) owns a couple of stores called Double Diamond Shoes – one in Park City and one in Vail, Colorado… Jaime Hensel (Atlanta/Minneapolis 05-09, 11-13, 17) has accepted a job with the pain and palliative care department at Children’s Minnesota… Luca Bacci (Highland Park, IL/Minneapolis 06-07, 09-12, 14), who was recently married, is territory manager for KEEN footwear… Walt Fromm (Kansas City/Minneapolis 06-12, 14-15, 17, 19) is co-founding The People’s Canvass, which is a progressive organization that is set to be the biggest deep canvassing operation in the country.

Bailey Aro Hutchence (Duluth 08-10, 12) and Joe Hutchence (Duluth 07-12) who met at camp a dozen years ago, recently launched a new business called Cedar Bound, which offers buildable cabin kits nationwide… Margeaux Settinerri (Lake Hawea, New Zealand 13-16) is happily trapped near the New Zealand city of Wanaka, where she has been working as a canyoning guide for the past three summers. When she’s not canyoning, she is helping organize local festivals and developing her meditation practice… Todd Ahlers (Chicago/Winter Park, CO  16-18) spent the summer fighting wildfires for the Cedar City Hotshots based out of Cedar City, UT… Zach Sullivan (Duluth 16, 18) has been creating adventure bags for biking and other outdoor activities… Kate Bennett (Columbus, OH 17-19 ) is finishing up her final months at Mount Carmel School of Nursing in Columbus, Ohio, including clinical training in the ICU with COVID patients… Matthew Wihelm (Wausau, WI/Burnsville, North Carolina 17-19) has been teaching at Arthur Morgan School, a partial boarding middle school in Burnsville, North Carolina.

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Our productive alumni:

Bill Reichert (Cincinnati/Dubai 78-83, 85) and Olga Khlusova – Thomas

Andrew Oshman (Dallas 85-88) and Amy Oshman – Nola

Brian Neil (Denver 95-00, 02-04) and Jessica Neil – Max

Daniel Abrams (Deerfield, IL 99-05, 07-08) and Rhonda Abrams – twins Jennie and Quinn

Peter Stein (Memphis/Durham 98-02, 11) and Lizzy Stokes-Cawley – Eli

Elisa Noble (Minneapolis 09-11) and Luke Noble – Jack

Kathryn Korchak (Gallagher) (Lake Nebagamon/Minneapolis 09-11, 15) and Kostiantyn Korchak – Vira

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We are sad to report the following deaths:

Bud Meissner (St. Louis) 33-34. 

Harris Frank (St. Louis) 36-37, 40-42

Leo Bearman (Memphis) 45-54, 56

Tom Gidwitz (Chicago/Nantucket, MA) 63-67

Sue Weisner (Superior/Englewood, FL) 67-69. *Note: In 1969, as director of what was then known as the craftshop, Sue was camp’s first female head of program.

Gordon “Gordy” Westlund (Lake Nebagamon/Superior) CN head caretaker from 1973-95