Learning at Camp—Changing my name to Rockachaw Bill—Elves of the Land of Three Ponds

Do campers learn anything at camp? What do they learn? Did you learn anything when you went to camp? When I went to Camp Stanislaus in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, more years ago than I care to number, I learned how to swim, play handball, ride a horse, and box. At least, those were the things I learned, i.e., stuff new to me at camp that I couldn’t do previously. I had already fished, played horseshoes, and shot a rifle; so, although I improved at those things, technically it wasn’t something “new” I learned.

The most important things I learned at camp, however, weren’t “things” at all. The big lessons had to do with learning how to act independently of parents, learning how to stick up for myself or, in one dramatic incident, someone else, learning how to maintain a friendship with an uncoordinated member of our group without appearing uncool to the jocks, learning how important it is to pick yourself up after failure (I was unseated by a horse and took a pretty good beating in a boxing match), ultimately learning how to enjoy the stuff I did well and not be crushed by the rest.

So, campers, did you learn anything at Sewataro last summer? Did you learn how to shoot a painball gun, catch a fish, skim down a water slide, throw a frisbee, hit a backhand, or shoot a bow & arrow? Did you learn some other, more personal, lessons? Tell us about them.

I’m going to part ways with the coyote. Coyote Bill, I discovered, is already too popular a name, used by a pretty well-known musician out west and by other bloggers as well. So I’ll keep the Bill part (since that is my real name) and use the mascot from my old camp, the Stanislaus Rockachaws, as my nickname. I’ll be Rockachaw Bill from now on. Oh, “rockachaw” comes from an old Choctaw Indian word for that little sticky weed that is so common is the sandy soil around the Gulf Coast, commonly known today as Cocklebur or, technically, Xanthium strumarium. It tends to stick to socks with its stiff, hooked spines.

And now, for another chapter in the story we began last week. . . .

The Spell of the Sorcerers

It all started when a travelling troup of Elf entertainers who called themselves “The Sorcerers” visited the Land of Three Ponds to put on a circus for all the resident Elves. For a nominal fee of 10 guilders each (a guilder was the coin the Makers had fashioned as the currency of Elf village in order to facilitate fair trade), a curious Elf could gain admittance to a show promising fire-swallowers, nail-walkers, snake charmers, knife throwers, hypnotists, mind readers, fortune tellers, and magicians able to make one’s head spin by amazing feats of disappearance and levitation.

The Sorcerers were scheduled for one week of performances at the small theatre that was used for community entertainments. The first night’s show was well attended but by no means filled. As word spread, however, of how mind boggling were the Sorcerers’ feats, this small auditorium could not hold the crowds. On the second night, the show played to a “standing room only” audience, and multitudes of unhappy Elves were turned away. On the day before the third scheduled performance--with everyone in Elfdom talking about the spectacle--the clan of Players, who handled entertainments and had booked the show, realized that unless they moved the venue to a larger space, disgruntled Elves who were turned away at the door might cause a disturbance of the peace. Since Elves are normally quite law-abiding citizens, this was deemed serious, so the Players transferred the production to the largest gathering place in the Land of Three Ponds, the open-air amphitheatre called the Bowl that had been built into a hillside overlooking the first pond. This suited the Sorcerers just fine, as they were able to showcase their amazing powers in an even more spectacular way.

The climax of the third night’s show was a trick that no Elf would ever forget. Shallimar, the leader of the Sorcerers and their chief magician, called for five volunteers from the audience who were blindfolded, bound in chains, and placed on a raft that was floated out into the pond. When it reached the middle, Shallimar raised his staff, shouted words in a tongue no Elf present understood, and threw the staff hundreds of feet into the air above the pond. At the apex of its flight, it scattered a flock of migrating black-bellied plovers and suddenly burst into an explosion of light that blinded the audience with its brightness. In the wake of the burst, a thousand glittering sparks in the shape of stars fell from the sky where the staff had been, disappearing before they hit the ground. Shallimar immediately directed the attention of the stunned audience toward the floating raft, which now was empty of passengers. “Have they been shocked by the spectacle and fallen into the water?” shouted Shallimar. “No,” he answered his own question, “they are sitting on the far bank of the pond.” And lo and behold, there they were: all five of them, now completely unbound, relaxed, and sitting on the far shore with their bare feet dangling in the cool waters of the pond. The audience let out a collective gasp at the dazzling instantaneousness of what had happened. This was magic indeed.

Eager elves could not get enough of the Sorcerers’ astounding displays. Tickets for the remaining four performances were sold out at the box office by 9 am the next morning, with some elves wanting to see the show more than once. And each show was more awe inspiring than the last one.

Not all of the elves, however, of the village were as smitten with the performance as was the general public. Dragoric, the ancient elder of the Protectors, had concerns about the sources of the Sorcerers’ powers from the very outset, concerns he had been reluctant to share with others until after the third night’s extravaganza. After the performance that night, he ambled over to the cottage of another elder, Tiffalil, the most revered of the Askers, and spoke about his concerns. Tiffalil did not need convincing, and in response to Dragoric’s suspicions, he uttered, “How indeed could one get such frippery magic without tapping into the dark arts?”

The two recalled the period of great erruptions in Elf history when whole clans clashed with one another for control of land and communities. Some went so far as to sell their Elvish souls for the supernatural powers that would give them control over others. The leader of this band, the carismatic leader, Luximar, nearly succeeded in gaining complete control before a coalition of clan elders managed to unite their members under the ancient principles of simplicity, harmony, honesty, and service. Simplicity implied that life should be lived on its own level. Harmony meant that one cherished the joys of community. Honesty dictated that any Elf with an unusual power be required to disclose the source of that power. And Service required that any such power could only be used for the good of all in the community, never for individual advancement or in frivolous display. Dragoric and Tiffalil were worried that the Sorcerers might be a descendants of Luximar or some of his followers, but they were not yet convinced that they posed a threat to the Land of Three Ponds, hoping that they would move on to other lands after their final performance on Sunday. At least, the two elders did not judge that concerted action should be taken on the basis of their suspicions alone.

That is, until the end of the 6th performance on Saturday night. Once the curtain had dropped to the now customary standing ovation, and the Sorcerers came out for their curtain call, Shallimar addressed the crowds with these words: “Elves of the Land of Three Ponds, you have been wonderful in your reception to us, the travelling nomadic clan of Sorcerers. What you have seen, however, is only the tip of the iceberg of our powers. Powers that we are willing to use for your benefit in exchange for a place in your community. We are tired of travelling and desire homes among other elves. Our proposal to you and your elders is this. Welcome us into your village by building cottages for us, give us a representative in your Council of Elders (one who has the same veto power as the representatives from the Askers and the Protectors), and we will use our powers to improve and safeguard the quality of life in the village. I think you will see that our methods are more effective than anything you have now.”

How will the elves of the Land of Three Ponds respond? What actions will Dragoric and Tiffalil take? And will Shallimar anticipate these actions and use counter measures? We will learn the answers in our next installment, “The Challenge of the Sorcerers.”

Sewataro in Winter—Mr. Coyote—Fall camp activities—This Blog—Land of Three Ponds

First “real” snow of the season came Saturday evening, December 5th, a couple of inches that painted all the pinetops white and was sticky enough to bend their branches down in reverence for the power of nature. Lately mallards and geese have dropped in for a swim and a brief rest in the midst of their journey south before it gets too cold. Haven’t seen the blue heron in well over a month, but we did have another visitor last week: a large, healthy coyote, who scratched his hairy neck while sunning complacently in the middle of the lacrosse field. Mr. Coyote acted as though he owned the place.

Camp has also had a few human visitors this fall as well. On three successive Wednesdays, Subury Extended Day bussed kindergarten to 5th graders from Haynes, Nixon, Noyes, and Loring schools over for some fun. Emmy, Jen, Chris, Rob, Mark, Jan, Karen, and yours truly refreshed our memories of what it was like to be counselors when we led the troups in various activities like S’mores, paintball, string course, GPS hunt, hayrides, and camouflage. We were aided thankfully by some actual counselors like Michael H. and Alex M.. In each of the school groups, we found a few Sewataro campers to answer our “Hubba, Hubbas” with loud “Ding, Dings.”

This blog will be aired every so often with things of interest to campers, parents, counselors. It will be occasional in frequency and varied in content. News about camp people and camp activities, but not only news. Some facts, commentary, how to’s, and opinion. I even have a few tales to tell. For the most part, it will all come from me, who will draw part of my moniker from the above mentioned camp visitor. So Coyote Bill, aided by inspiration from anywhere and comments from you, will hereby launch Sounds of Sewataro. Your responses are welcome and will be also aired.

Speaking of stories, let’s start one about the ancient hidden people who used to inhabit the places we now live. Their spirit lives on, of course, and there may even be some of their descendants who have carved out homes in a tree or two on the property.

The Elves of the Land of Three Ponds

Many years ago, during the Golden Age of Elves, at least seven distinct elf clans occupied the territory now known as Sewataro, then called “The Land of Three Ponds.” Elf clans tended to be named for the particular talents and abilities of their members. For example, the Askers were famous for asking questions, questions so sharp and pointed that the effort to answer them would bring sheer clarity to the most difficult problems of life. Once an Asker elder framed a question so powerful and so brilliant that anyone who seriously tried to answer it had his life changed forever. The question was, “Where are you going?” By the tone of the question, of course, the listener knew that an answer such as “I’m going to the grocery store” would not suffice, and any attempt to answer the question in this way would only subject one to ridicule. Suddenly elf, dwarf, fairie, or human—whoever was asked this question—had to think about the direction of his or her life. They could no longer go about the ordinary tasks of the day like eating, playing, going to school, shopping or working without thinking about how all of these activities fit into the overall journey of their lives. Needless to say, with this kind of a gift for illuminating the mysteries of life by their questions, the Askers were revered by all the Elf clans and given a special place of prominence, for whenever any of the elves found themselves puzzled about things or weighed down by worries, they would approach the Council of Askers to receive a question that would cause them to see their puzzlement in a fresh, clarifying way.

Some of the other Elf clans--and I won’t reveal all of them just yet--were the Protectors, the Makers, the Poets, the Growers, and the Players. All of these clans lived in harmony during the Golden Age of Elves. The Growers provided food and drink for all. The Makers built cottages for every Elf family and all the buildings needed for meetings, socials, and exchange. The Poets fashioned beauty and insight out of language, song, story, painting, and sculpture. The Players invented games, arranged parties, and found any excuse at all to create holidays and celebrations. The Protectors looked out for the safety of Elfdom, monitoring and arbitrating any disputes that arose within the Land of Three Ponds, and keeping watch on any threats from without.

An example of the former was when Ilsar complained about his neighbor, Saleil, who would play his ukulele every night after eating dinner and drinking more than one large cup of mead. The mead made Saleil very sentimental and nostalgic for his dear wife, Lostra, whose elfish soul had parted from her body three years ago. Saleil’s playing and loud singing of mawkish tunes disturbed the peace and tranquility of the neighborhood, said Ilsar, and prevented Ilsar from sleeping, a sleep he needed in order to rise at 5 am for a decent day’s work. After Ilsar complained to the Protectors, one of their arbitrators came to the neighborhood and talked to both Ilsar and Saleil separately. He then made his decision and informed both of them of what was to be done. On Friday and Saturday nights, Ilsar could play his uke and sing after supper, but only on those nights, and even then he could only play until the clock struck ten. Both elves accepted the ruling with varying degrees of satisfaction, Ilsar happy that the importance of his songs had been affirmed, and Saleil happy that the importance of his sleep had been recognized.

Such internal affairs were simple for the Protectors to address, and usually only one of them was required to handle them. Outside threats were a more serious matter. It was one of these that required an emergency meeting of the entire council of Protectors on a cold and rainy late November evening. This threat, the Spell of the Sorcerers, and its ensuing complications will be the subject of our next installment of The Elves of the Land of Three Ponds.