2011 Reunion Chapel
There really is a very strong emotional component to a weekend like this and last night’s singsong was a very powerful time.
Looking at this weekend I realize that all of us who responded to the Latimer invitation to participate in this reunion marking Kilcoo’s 80th year had at least one thing we shared: the common experience of attending Kilcoo camp, something for which I think we are all blessed. I mean, where else would we have had the opportunity to learn how to paddle a canoe with some level of expertise, shoot a bow and arrow at a target, or experience the challenge of a canoe trip, whether it meant slugging through the muddy gorge near Sheldon Lake in the 50’s or experiencing the unique ruggedness of Algonquin in the 60’s, Temagami in the 70’s, Kippawa in the 80’s, the Dumoine in the 90’s or even the Nahanni.
But all of these provided only the setting to what was most important: the people we have met and the memories we have shared. Why else would we be drawn back here from time to time? I have had the great privilege of travelling in a time machine like vehicle that has allowed me to transition from my first summer here in 1956 to as recently as 2011. While talking with a group of LIT’s in August one of them commented, “This is an amazing experience. I was always a July camper and yet now, as a second year LIT, some of my closest friends were campers in August. I looked back at him and all I could say was,"Now you are starting to understand what Kilcoo is all about."
And so, it is not a cabin itself we were in that we necessarily recall, but we do remember it because we make the connection between it and the other campers who were there with us. I used to marvel at the thought of how many weddings John and Peggy Latimer must have been invited to, and yet this pattern extended to funerals as well. Some of our memories have been tinged with sadness as there have been some who were lost far before their time. And yet, I hope when we can put the sadness aside, those memories are good ones that bring a smile to our faces. It began with the 14 former staff who sacrificed their lives during World War II, and then Lyle Pringle whose early passing stemmed from the polio outbreak in 1947. For me I think back to Bill MacNutt and then Harry Thompson. But the memories do evoke a smile, even a chuckle. I can remember so vividly Harry as a first year Bantam counsellor, noisily leading his young campers out of the lodge during a noon meal after they announced their secession from Ron Cope’s section, and for those of you who know nothing of Ron Cope, I can tell you that as a counsellor you never, never did something like that. In later years many of you here were strongly affected by the passing of Randy Kline’s brother Gary, Scotty Merrick, Tim Ross, Michael Bracht, Dave Graham, and Steve Reble’s brother Chris.
These Kilcoo alumni along with the many others who may still be in our lives or with whom we may only have reconnected this weekend, these were all important people at some point in our lives and still are, and I maintain that the memories we shared with them are important because they contributed to who we are today.
So, when you look back on it I think we can safely say that we were darn lucky to have had the chance to come to Kilcoo.
Paul Chamberlain
Camper 1956 to 1959
Staff 1960 to 1967
KILCOO THEN AND NOW REMINISCENCES AT CHAPEL POINT JULY 2007
A comfortably warm Sunday morning in July. A bright blue sky. A gentle breeze rustling the leaves as I found my seat among the rocks at Chapel Point. I came an hour early to reminisce. Could it be over sixty years ago since I had first gazed out at Gull Lake and watched the gentle sun streaked waves lapping at the shore? It was 1946 and I was ten. How I had nimbly climbed the rocks to the top of Chapel point and moved swiftly to the Indian council ring. Sixty years later I had to step carefully and slowly, holding on to each rock along the way as I found my place. It was good to be back, for my mind was as clear as ever, as memories from then and memories made now seemed to be woven together.
That first summer just after the war. We sat in the dining hall, just like now and sang songs. “Come to Kilcoo when you’re feeling blue.” I remember Chief Plewman leading the sing-song just like Lub did after the noon meal that followed chapel that day. But on that first July Sunday in 1946 there was something different. We sat quietly while Chief read out the Honour roll of the former Kilcoo campers and staff who had died in the war that started just seven years after he founded Kilcoo. It lasted a long six years. As he read the Roll there were tears in his eyes. He stopped to wipe them.
The breeze picked up as the boys from Camp Awakening, Cabin 25, took their places at the front of Chapel Point. With kindness and caring they were carried over those rocks in the willing arms of the staff. Within minutes there seemed an endless parade of boys clamouring over the rocks to find their places, all dressed in their Kilcoo green shirts. Sparkling clean. Most walked silently, as if they sensed this was a special place. They took their places.
The theme of the chapel service was Kilcoo traditions. The readings traced the decades past and my mind was flooded with memories. First as a camper in the 1940’s and then while on staff a decade later. More than half a century ago. But none of the important things had changed in all that time.-
“All for one and one for all.” – “For at Kilcoo we’ll see you through.” – “Blue lake and rocky shore, we will return once more – “Once a Kilcoo camper, always a Kilcoo camper.”
Friendships every summer and some associations that will last a lifetime.
Swimming, canoeing, sailing, running, hiking, and sporting contests with a ball, any ball. So quickly the days passed. Then as now we gathered around the flagpole. “Maker of Men.” The music of Jan Sibelius, “Finlandia,” etched forever in my mind and probably in the mind of anyone whoever has had the privilege of attending Kilcoo.
In the years ahead what will you remember from your days at Kilcoo? Will you remember when you touched the wind as it blew while you paddled against the whitecaps on a canoe trip? Will you remember the scent of pine and spruce as you made your way along a wooded path in the late afternoon sun? Will you remember that first summer plunge off the dock with the chill of the water that took your breath away and then became a warm friend after half a minute passed? Will you remember the call of a loon just as darkness descended over Gull Rock or when the first rays of the morning sun lightened the sky?
And in the years ahead will you remember the thrill of achievement of whatever was so important to you then and how everyone cheered you on? And will you remember the silence of that special place you found to sit by yourself and take in the beauty of your surroundings in quiet thought?
Or will you remember, as I did, when the service at Chapel Point ended, looking down and seeing a young man with a freckled face, dressed in his green shirt, tan shorts and a Kilcoo hat saying, “Mister, can I take your hand to help you over these rocks.”
These were the thoughts that I penned in July, 2007. Vivid memories and now almost five years later Chapel Point beckons me back. But now I see that I never left.
Bruce Haines, September, 2011
Camper 1946 to 1948
Staff 1952 to 1954