Camp Nebagamon

By Adam Kaplan

I have often said that if I were within 100 miles of Lake Nebagamon on a Sunday night in the summer, I would do whatever it took to get to camp to participate in the Council Fire, because not being at camp for a Sunday night Council Fire seems absolutely untenable and absurd. (Of course, given my current job description, my being more than one mile from Lake Nebagamon on a Sunday night would be VERY problematic!!!)

There is just something that is so powerful, rejuvenating and moving about sitting down on those decades-old benches that have been sat upon by generations of boys every Sunday night during the last 91 summers. There is just something peaceful about that few minutes at the very beginning of a Council Fire when the entire camp family sits in silence, mesmerized by the fire – as it gets lit, gradually catches hold, and then becomes the roaring fire that it does. The sight, the sound, the smell…the feeling. There is just something engrossing about the skits that highlight camp’s values through the eyes of a particular staff member. There is just something special about participating in a Keylog ceremony, listening to the rawest and purest of emotion being poured out by everyone from an eight-year-old to an 80 year-old as they convey gratitude to members of the camp family for making a difference in their lives. There is just something inspiring about watching the Council Fire grow from embers to a beautiful fire built exclusively from the kindness and caring of our community. There is just something grounding about standing up with your camp family to bow your head in prayer for the health and safety of your loved ones. There is just something incredibly emotional and unifying about throwing your arms around the folks next to you and singing “Round Thy Blazing”, “Taps”, and “All Night, All Day”. There is just something buoyingly melancholy and hopeful about gathering around that same fire to gather some warmth just before heading off to bed for the night. There is just something complete about a Council Fire.

When it was first suggested that we attempt an online Council Fire, I was quite unconvinced that it could possibly work. After all, none of us would be anywhere near the Council Fire Ring. We would all be in our homes, and in front of computer screens. It didn’t make sense. We all know that you have to proceed to the Council Fire Ring in silence. You have to sit on those benches. You have to swat the occasional mosquito. You have to recoil from the smell of that kid in front of you who really needs to shower. You have to struggle to not break into guffaws when the kid next to you passes gas. If you aren’t there, it’s not a Council Fire. Plain and simple.

Adam and Stephanie opening our Council Fire at Home

Still…these are truly unprecedented times (can you believe how many times you have read or written those two words in the past couple of months?) and ultimately, we decided to give the online Council Fire (henceforth Council Fire at Home) a shot. We got to work right away to assemble a cast of folks that we felt would really speak to what would likely be a generationally broad audience. Very quickly eight folks representative of different generations at camp agreed to put together short stories for us. They were given tight deadlines and each and every one of them delivered something meaningful and perfect. We then put out a call to the camp family to send in video Keylogs. Very quickly we received many of these Nebagamon-style expressions of gratitude. Finally, a couple of Zoom interviews of the giants whose shoulders we have all stood on for so long…Nardie, Sally, Roger and Judy. After that, it was all up to Louis to make the Council Fire at Home feel right. He cobbled together the new material with footage from Council Fire’s past to create just the right tone and atmosphere. He did, in my mind, a perfect job….

From then, it just required me to engage in the same routines that I have for 17 years of Council Fires so far. A welcoming talk…some thoughts on the presentation…the Keylog story…and then those same rote lines, that have been recited by Camp Nebagamon’s directors for generations, that conclude our Council Fires. If I am being honest, I was particularly worried about these parts. Usually I go into Council Fires without a definite script or plan for what I am going to say. I have always let the presentation, current events at camp, and the feel from the camp family inspire what I say. So I was quite nervous that I wouldn’t be able to channel anything from a computer screen and NOBODY in front of me. I considered writing some things down…but it just felt wrong. If we were going for a Council Fire then it should be treated as one…So I winged it as usual!

And here is the thing…

It worked. It totally worked. I have heard from countless campers, parents, staff and alumni about how our Council Fire at Home worked. They have shared how they felt like they were experiencing an actual Council Fire. They shared that they really felt connected to Nebagamon and the camp family like at an actual Council Fire. They shared how they teared up in the exact same spots that they remembered tearing up when at Nebagamon during an actual Council Fire.

And you know what? I think it worked because the truth is, even though we were not sitting on those benches at the Council Fire Ring and participating in the exact same way as we have in the past, the Council Fire at Home was an actual Council Fire. Because as important as the patch of land that we call the Council Fire Ring is, what really matters is the people. What makes Camp Nebagamon so special has always been the people. And they were all there. And guess what? Almost every single one of them was more than 100 miles away.

If you missed the Council Fire at Home, you can rewatch the broadcast in its entirety below. Skip ahead to the 19-minute mark for the start of the presentation.