Camp story

It looks like we are moving forward with the camp remodel.

We demolished the add-on bathroom. Now there’s a hole in the back wall.

Back of camp after bathroom removal
Interior of camp almost empty

I have mixed feelings about this process.

I’m forever grateful to Ray Storman for selling us the camp. It was the anchor that got us to Maine.

Yet I have a really different vision of what I want it to be. I want to obliterate most traces of Ray’s ownership.

I feel guilty for being so overprivileged to have a summer camp. It will go to Sam’s son when we’re gone.

I’m impatient to get it done. But I won’t let myself be impatient. It will take as long as it takes.

I have vivid memories of staying there during the transition from Connecticut to Maine. With and without Sam. It was at once cozy and horrible.

The lake is so beautiful. Especially in the fall when it starts to get cold. I love it so much.

I want to be a good steward. But there’s so much building and overbuilding going on. Human presence does not feel trustworthy.

We don’t need the rental income. I think about offering camp stays to poets, writers, activists in need of respite. How would I do that? Is it safe there for everyone?