+ The Day Camp Blog
Welcome to the Boom Fizzle Blog!
Posted on December 13th, 2011 at 12:23 pm
Dear Readers,
Last summer, many campers noticed a new face at Newman Summer Day Camp, someone taking pictures and jotting down notes. He wasn’t a counselor, a lifeguard, a teacher, or a camper. Well then, who was he?
In the words of one camper, “Oh, he’s just a blogger.”
And she was right (though his official title was “Resident Observational Humorist”). Randy covered the camp with his camera and notebook, eager to see everything from music with Pre-K to the 7th and 8th Grade field trips around New Orleans. He didn’t just observe. He crawled through Cardboard Mountain, played basketball at recess, took apart computers in Deconstruction, joined in the Michael Jackson dance party, and dressed up for Star Wars day. After all that, he found a way to share with us what Newman Summer Day Camp is like for a child—or at least an adult with a very young heart.
Enjoy!
Tagged:
The Boom Fizzle Blog #9
Posted on August 4th, 2011 at 12:03 pm
Campathlon!
Oskie first gave me the details about the camp’s grand finale, the Summer Campathlon, a week before it took place. I remember feeling dizzy by the time he had finished.
“It sounds like you’re trying to squeeze three days worth of fun into just one day,” I said.
“Yes,” he responded. “Except the Campathlon only takes place during one block. So it’s more like squeezing three days worth of fun into 70 minutes.”
“That’s madness,” I told him politely. “That’s sheer irrevocable madness that might just unfurl the very fabric of the universe.”
“Possibly. But it has a purpose,” he said. “You need madness for the sadness.”
I didn’t know what he meant at the time, but I was too dizzy to press the issue. Instead, I went to go find a place to sit down.
Flash forward to the start of Block 2 on the last day of camp. In Aronson Hall, about three hundred campers were sitting down and watching a video.
The video had been made by Spitz, and it was of a torch relay that starred many of the camp counselors. Each counselor was handed the torch and then would run off to another part of camp and hand the torch to the next counselor, until finally the torch was passed to On the screen, Josie entered Cardboard Mountain, only to emerge from the actual Mountain in real life. It was pretty awesome, but it reminded me a lot of the Olympics, which does something similar. Still a cool video though.
Celebratory music began to fill the room, and that’s when I saw the madness that I knew was coming.
The campers cheered with all their might as they started dancing wildly, making Olympic poses, and passing their own handmade “torches” to one another a great many times.
It was quite a sight to behold. And it was a sight I knew I would get to behold for the next 70 minutes. After all, this was the Campathlon we’re talking about here, the grand finale of camp. If the campers had been holding anything back, now was the time to unleash it.
For a moment, I thought the campers might just decide to never leave Aronson Hall and just celebrate together till the end of time.
But then Oskie opened up the big doors and the campers dispersed into the unknown world of Campathlon.
l thought of what Oskie had told me a week ago about how it would work:
Ten different events, spread out all over camp, all of which I needed to observe so I could write them about later. And I only had seventy minutes to do it in.
I felt dizzy again and thought about sitting down.
If I had been smart, I thought, I would have mapped out the location of each event earlier in the day and then made an efficient plan so that I could make the most out of what precious time I had.
But I did none of those things. In fact, I’ve never done any of those things in my life.
So instead, I would have to do what all the campers were doing at the time: travel blindly and hope the madness would steer me in the right direction (at least, I think that’s what the campers were doing).
And this was how I found The Breakfast Relay…possibly the greatest food-related relay of all time.
For those who don’t know, the Breakfast Relay is unique in that all of its races have to do with breakfast in some way.
Like the Sizzle Bacon race, where contestants have to get to the finish line in the style of a sizzling piece of bacon. (Again, I’m pretty sure this was done in the Olympics).
And the Egg Toss, which in my opinion, is easily the most addictive of all races, food-related or otherwise.
The second event I covered was the Paper Plane Aim. Here, the children built their own paper planes and then flew them off a second story balcony.
As you can see, the point was to try to get your plane to land as close to the bull’s eye as possible. But there was a catch, the other campers were given squirt guns and were instructed to shoot down the planes with extreme prejudice.
Somehow, I also ended up getting squirted. A lot. So I left.
On my way to the next game, two campers accosted me and explained that they were participating in the Photography Scavenger Hunt event. One of them told me that, according to their list, they needed to get a picture of ‘Randy’s beard’. While I listened to the girl talk, the other one took a picture of my beard—without my permission. I’m not going to lie; that hurt more than getting squirted. A man’s beard is a sacred thing.
As luck would have it, I quickly found myself in the photography lab, where other eager Campathloners were waiting to get their own camera and scavenger list so they could try their hand in the hunt.
Naturally, I was expecting to be bombarded by the many who needed a picture of Randy’s glorious beard.
But no one wanted anything to do with me, as they all knew of a better Randy who had a more impressive beard.
Speak of the devil. I found him in the Tech Lab, hosting his very own activity, which was called The Randy Spectacular. Campers tried their darnedest to outscore Randy at a video game that he had created himself.
Covering this event only continued to make me feel like the lesser Randy, with the lesser beard, so I didn’t stay very long.
Out of all nine events, the thumb wrestling event had the most aesthetically pleasing layout. I mean, it had a ring! For thumb wrestling! I don’t care who you are, that’s just heartwarming.
Also, I have to point out that the campers, at least the ones I watched, had beautiful technique and impeccable (playful) taunting skills. Parents, you’ve raised your children right. I mean that with all sincerity.
I had been hoping that the Cardboard Mountain event was going to be a race through the Mountain, except that there would be no time limit, nor would there be any expectations for you to ever leave the Mountain.
Sadly, this was not the case.
But the real event was good, too. Campers were given a handful of Mardi Gras beads and sent to one of the Mountain’s openings where they were to try to throw the beads onto the branches of the beloved cardboard tree.
Definitely a fun event. Not as fun as eternity in Cardboard Mountain, but fun all the same.
As I left the Cardboard Mountain activity, I bumped into this camper who told me about an event at the far back field behind the bleachers that he discovered while doing the scavenger hunt. I had a slight suspicions that he was telling tall tales, as the event he described seemed too spectacular to be real.
But there was only one way to find out.
I found a door that led me back out to the yard. Once outside, I came across this girl walking with a potato on her spoon.
I got excited for a second, as I wasn’t aware that any of the campers shared my love for potato spoon walks. But then I realized she was participating in another race of Breakfast Relay, so I let her be and continued on my way.
As I headed down the football field and towards the end of the bleachers, I began to feel foolish. There was no way this event actually existed.
Oh me of little faith. It did exist! Paint Sponge Battle was real!
OK, so I’m not sure if ‘Paint Sponge Battle’ was the exact name, but I am sure that it was an absolute thrill to watch.
I suspect that the only thing better than watching Sponge Paint Battle would be to play Sponge Paint Battle. But I couldn’t let myself play; I still had other events to cover and time was running out (also, I feared that if I partook in this event that it would transform me into a paint sponge battling monster that would have no interest in returning to civilized society).
I found the next bit of competitive entertainment at the gym, where Coach Fal was conducting obstacle course races that stretched all the way from one side of the giant gymnasium to the other.
I purposely put these shots together in random order. I did this so you could get a sense of the disorientation one feels after spinning around a baseball bat three times in succession. This relay was not for the faint of heart, or weak willed. I left shortly.
I made the trek back to the main camp building. I had two events left, but what they were I didn’t have a clue.
But then I heard some frantic high-pitched voices coming from a classroom, and I knew my search was over.
As I entered the room, I discovered that the campers were shouting out the names of random objects as fast as they could. That could only mean one thing…Pictionary!
I walked up to the campers and peered over the tops of their heads to see the drawing in question.
“Rocket School!” I shouted on impulse.
“No, I already guessed that,” a strawberry blonde girl replied.
The counselor called time; which meant that the other team now had one chance to guess.
I don’t recall what they said, but I know they were wrong. The right answer was “sandbox.”
How did I not get that?
I wandered up and down the first and second level hallways. As I did this, I began to wonder what the last event would be. I secretly hoped it would be another Paint Sponge Battle, only this time it would take place in Cardboard Mountain. This thought took over much of my mind and it may have caused me to wander the halls longer than necessary.
Eventually, someone found me and informed me that the last event was The Balloon Race, which was in the Pre-K/K building.
As I walked out of one building and into another, I kept recalling the name of the event—“Balloon Race”—and I couldn’t help but picture two campers standing in a classroom, both wearing looks of total disinterest on their faces, as they let go of helium-filled balloons at the same time and then slowly tilt their head up as they watch the balloons softly collided with the ceiling.
But of course that wasn’t the case. The science teachers had the campers spread out in a big circle and instructed them to grab hold of an end of one of the many strings that led to the middle of the room.
Then the campers blew up a balloon and tied the end of it around the string in a way that’s far too difficult to describe in print.
After everyone had done this, they all released the balloons upon hearing the signal, and watched as they spiraled furiously toward the center.
It was a lot of fun to watch, but the end result wasn’t pretty.
And as I stood there and looked at this grisly sight, an announcement was made by one of the counselors.
Campathlon had officially ended.
Phew, I thought. I just made it.
In a symbolic way, I think this was the perfect event to end Campathlon on because by that time it was clear that everyone—campers and counselors alike—felt just like those withered balloons.
We had all released a staggering amount of energy for a an intense 70 minutes, without a single break. Now we had nothing left to give.
We were deflated balloons hanging from a string. It’s rather beautiful if you think about it, especially the way I wrote it.
And as I looked at the deflated balloons around me, I noticed that I wasn’t seeing the scene of despair I had anticipated. Camp was ending, but everyone seemed like they were more appreciative and grateful for what they had just done, than sad for what they were about to lose.
I couldn’t help but think of what Oskie had told me a week ago:
“Madness for the Sadness.”
It all made perfect sense.
Or maybe it didn’t make any sense at all. I was really too tired to know at that point. And I was a little dizzy.
I went to find a place to sit down.
—Randy W.
Tagged: Boom Fizzle Blog
The Boom Fizzle Blog #8
Posted on July 29th, 2011 at 4:06 pm
A Return to Cardboard Mountain
If you were to look at Counselor Spitz in this picture without having any outside knowledge of him, you might mutter to yourself, “What is wrong with this person? Why is he working at the camp?” But that would be the wrong thing to mutter; maybe the worst thing ever.
For it was this man, this current shell of a man, who used every drop of energy to create something so glorious, so exceptional, it could only be called one thing:
Cardboard Mountain!
Ah, Cardboard Mountain. It’s a wonder to behold, isn’t it? Yes, it is. Just looking at it makes you years younger.
And it’s all because of the man above… well, that actually isn’t true. There are two other important people who were instrumental in building the Mountain.
Here we have Jon. Not only was Jon a great help in the creation of the Mountain, but his never-ending positive attitude kept the project going, even during the times when Counselor Spitz was on the verge of despair.
And then there was Counselor Milissa who, as you can see in the picture above, did all of the actual work. Kidding of course!
Anyways, on one of the last days of camp, I took the time to tell them all what fine, upstanding men and women they were. And I told them that I will forever be in their debt. For what they have done has changed me, and the boys and girls of camp, forever.
I also took the time to tell them that, after giving it some careful thought, I had decided to go into Cardboard Mountain one last time… and never come out.
“You won’t last a day,” dismissed Milissa.
“No, you can do it Randy. I believe in you,” Counselor Spitz interjected. “But you must go in now, and remember, if you get into trouble just head to the ‘Miss Laz Lair’ in the far corner.”
“What’s the Miss Laz Lair?”
“Shhh…,” he silenced me. “Don’t ask questions…there’s no time for that. The first and second grade campers will be here any minute. You must go, now!”
So I plunged into the great darkness of the mountain, not knowing what my fate would be, only knowing that I would be in a better place.
I came across my first camper about ten minutes later. I told her my plan, but she wasn’t very impressed.
“You’re silly!” she told me.
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I must stay here. It is the only home I have ever known.”
It wasn’t long before other first and second graders also found me. I noticed they were all carrying around cameras, just like me.
“Are you guys aspiring bloggers?” I asked hopefully.
“No!” they said in disgust. “We’re in photography right now. We’ve come to take pictures of the strange things in Cardboard Mountain.”
“Let’s take pictures of the weird old man!” another one exclaimed, referring to yours truly.
And they did. They chased me through the Mountain as they tried to document the “weird old man” who refused to return to the outside world.
Eventually, I escaped their wrath in the maze of the Mountain. But their treatment of me had warped my mind permanently. I decided I would make it my goal to pop up and scare as many of them as I could.
It was a most excellent time.
But it wasn’t long before I realized that the campers were becoming more and more afraid. Had I scared them off for good?
Like the gopher I had become, I popped my head out of one of the many holes of the Mountain and assessed the situation.
Then I understood what was going on. First block was ending; a new time was beginning. A time of recess. I knew this would be the scariest time of all.
I didn’t have long before this place would be overrun by a swarm of overly-excited kids. I had to get to someplace safe. I remembered Spitz’s words, and headed to the Miss Laz Lair.
I had asked Miss Laz earlier what she thought of the lair that had been created for her. She told me that she was stunned with pleasure after seeing the great cardboard tribute to her.
As I stood in her lair at that moment, I could see what she meant. It was a glorious sight to behold.
As I was admiring the lair, Spitz came and paid a visit.
“I just wanted to see how the lair held up after it’s first encounter with campers.”
But we both knew that was a half-truth at best. Spitz was there for the same reason as I. Because it was where we belonged.
We hung out in the Lair for a good five minutes, cracking jokes and enjoying the moment, just having a good ol’ time. But then we heard the squeals of the children from across the Mountain. Spitz left without saying a word. He didn’t have to, it was understood. He had to leave, but I didn’t. I never would.
I waited in the Lair for the hounds to come. For a moment I thought maybe they wouldn’t be able to find the new room. But then this little girl popped in, and she was immediately reduced to a state of awe as she took in the site of the Miss Laz Lair.
Of course, many others soon followed her. At first, they were all too mesmerized by this new addition to the Mountain to notice me.
But once they did realize I was there, they recognized me instantly.
“It’s the Boom Fizzle!” they shouted gleefully, recalling my first trip into Cardboard Mountain.
They jumped at me as fast as they could. Luckily, I was just a second faster and was able to retreat to the main section of the Mountain.
But I could sense them behind me, trying to get me. I was hunted prey once more.
I managed to shake them and then came across this other new area. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only was this room gigantic, it also had a projector.
A camper came into the new room as I was enjoying the sight that was on the wall. Luckily, he wanted nothing to do with me, he just wanted to make shadow puppet bunnies on the screen.
I was about to join him in the fun when I heard the squeaking cries of another camper behind me.
Through the window of the cardboard, my hunters had found me. It was only a matter of time before they breached the movie room.
They attacked from all sides, grabbing my arms and legs.
“We got the Boom Fizzle!” they shouted.
Somehow, I was able to crawl out of the room and escape capture.
This was the last picture I took during my crazy escape. Don’t try to make sense of it; it makes none at all.
It was only after I was safe again, a good ten minutes later, that I realized I no longer had my camera with me. It must have fallen out of my pocket during my flee.
“There is no telling where it could be now,” I thought miserably.
I went back to the place where I was attacked. I asked the campers if they had seen a camera on the ground anywhere.
“I did!” a female camper spoke up. “It was right over there. Right next to a key.”
I immediately checked my pockets and realized I didn’t have the key to my house either. I looked over to where she pointed, but saw nothing but cardboard.
“Did you grab them?” I asked her. She shook her head enthusiastically.
“That’s it,” I quietly said to myself. “Now I really have no reason to leave this place. Without my camera or key I have no purpose in the other world.”
As I crawled, feeling around in the dark for a lone key and a not-so-cheap camera, I found myself thinking back to my fondest memory of Cardboard Mountain.
It was a week ago exactly, Star Wars day. The Pre-K/K were watching a clip from The Empire Strikes Back on the big screen. I had snuck into Cardboard Mountain while no one was looking. I found a sizable hole where I could sit and watch the movie in my private area. But as I watched, a Pre-K camper popped up beside me. I’m not sure if he followed me in or was there the whole time.
Whatever the case, I remember the moment being a golden one. One I wouldn’t soon forget.
And then someone stood up in front of us, blocking our view.
“Down in front!” we cried. The person in question turned around.
It was Counselor Spitz, dressed as C3PO. Believe it or not, it was a better sight than the movie itself.
And with this warm fuzzy memory in mind, I continued my (possibly) endless trek through the Mountain, and, despite my concern for my personal possessions, I was comforted by the knowledge that even if I never found what I was looking for and was stuck in Cardboard Mountain forever, it wouldn’t be that bad. It wouldn’t be that bad at all.
Tagged: Boom Fizzle Blog
The Boom Fizzle Blog #7
Posted on July 27th, 2011 at 6:26 pm
Smashball!
Look at the fire in this camper’s eyes. It’s the kind of fire that only exists when you’re in line to bat in a game of Smashball. It’s the kind of fire that flares up as you watch the current batter trying to hit the ball: Please don’t strike out, the fire says. For the love of all that is holy, don’t strike out. Get on base. If that happens then all I need is for the others in front of me to get on base, too. Or, at least, I need just enough of them to get on base so that I get a chance to step up to the plate. So that I get a chance to swing the bat; a chance to Smash. The. Ball!
As you can see there are a lot of fires in a lot of eyes during this game of Smashball. All these boys and girls are chomping at the bit for a chance to be the hero. But they are also a little nervous, because they know they have an overgrown buffoon on their team. Me.
It all started earlier that day, as second block was just beginning. The coach was picking out the teams in a fast yet effective manner: “You’re batting.” “You’re in infield.” “You’re batting.” That’s when he came to me.
“Are you playing?” he asked.
I should have said no, I should have told him I had a blogging responsibility to adhere to. But I didn’t…I decided to follow my gut. And my gut was telling me to smash the ball.
He sends me out to far right field (wise decision). While I am out there waiting for the pitcher to warm up, I ask a fellow teammate about the rules.
“It’s just like baseball, except a lot less rules. And there are no foul balls, and you can throw the ball at the runner to get him out.”
“That is outstanding,” I tell him.
“It is.” He agrees. “It really is.”
At first, I try to play and take pictures at the same time. But this only leads to poor playing performance and even worse pictures. Which means that the campers are presently getting mad at me for playing bad, and their parents, you people, are going to get mad at me in the future for taking lousy pictures. I realized it was time to make a decision. Or, as this boy put it:
“Stop being weird and start helping us win!”
Message received. I put the camera down and try my best to play some Smashball.
I only take out my camera when I think I can get away with it, or when I think I am on the verge of getting a shot of a camper doing something stupendous.
Here, I was certain I was going to see a home run. I mean, look how confident this boy is. He’s so determined; so assured in his ability to bash the incoming ball.
And yet, here he is, moments later, after getting tagged out. You can see the transformation that has taken place. Once proud and determined, he is now a mere shadow of his former self. But this is only temporary. Soon he will be back at bat—back to who he used to be. For that is the way of Smashball.
A batter sends a ball flying into the air. My fellow outfielders scramble back to try and catch it. One of them does, but I don’t get a picture because I’m a failure.
Now the inning is over and it’s our turn at bat. My team rushes into the batting line while the other team rushes onto the outfield. I’m positive someone from the other team is going to barrel right into me, but I miraculously reach the batting line unscathed.
This camper smacks the ball hard down the line. He makes it to first base. We’re all very proud of him.
Eventually, it’s my turn at bat. I ask someone what the score is before I approach the plate.
“It’s 8 to 2.” Someone tells me. “Their lead.”
With this new info, I know I have no choice. I am going to have to hit a home run. I put on the same determined face I had seen on the many batters before me, but I can tell that the pitcher sees right through it. He knows he is looking at a lost man in a game of boys.
I hit it right into the first baseman’s hands and promptly end the inning. My teammates won’t look at me.
The next inning begins with a mighty swinger indeed: the very coach himself!
He sends the ball sailing into the bleachers. The kids all watch in awe as it crashes into the championship banners hanging from the ceiling.
“What a showboat,” I mutter to myself.
More runs are scored on us until finally we manage to get three outs.
As I return to the batting line, one of my teammates has a question for me:
“Are you going to blow it again?”
I don’t answer him, but I also don’t make any effort to hide the pain he’s caused.
Eventually, it is my turn to bat again. The bases are loaded. The crowd is silent (well, there is no crowd per se, but if there were a crowd it would have been too caught up in the game to speak).
The ball leaves the pitcher’s hand and I swing my bat with all my might. It goes right to the pitcher, counselor Curtis, who throws it to first base. But the first baseman doesn’t catch it and it goes rolling into the corner of the gym.
And that my friends, is how I got a grand slam.
Now, you’re probably thinking right now: “But you only get one base on an overthrow.” But what you have forgotten is that those are baseball rules. And this isn’t baseball; this is Smashball. And in Smashball, rules won’t save you; only the fire from within will save you. And the occasional overthrow.
Until next time,
—Randy W.
Tagged: Boom Fizzle Blog
The Boom Fizzle Blog #6
Posted on July 25th, 2011 at 4:26 pm
Splash Day!
When you’re a kid, there are certain events that seem so stupendous that the anticipation leading up to them feels like too much for you to handle—like you’re going to explode if you don’t get to experience the great moment right away. Christmas and Hanukkah are good examples of this, as are visits to ice cream factories, going to see your favorite team play in the playoffs and, of course, TV marathons of the Twilight Zone (OK, maybe that last bit was just me…I was a weird kid).
Somewhere on this list lies Splash Day—a day of water slides, giddiness, and infinite splashing.
Since the first day I arrived at camp I had heard the term “Splash Day” countless times from both campers and counselors alike. And the term has always been used with a tone of awe, as if this magical day would never come; it would only exist on the tips of the tongues of those who dreamed of it night and day.
So imagine my surprise when I came to camp one day and found out it was indeed the day of splashes.
The day started with the Pre-K/K getting all the drenched joy. They had the entire morning to bask in the glory of each of the four water slides that had been set up. (Thanks to Waites for a couple of the action shots above…the in focus ones.)
Sadly, before the second round of campers hardly had time to get wet, the worst thing that could ever happen on Splash day happened on Splash Day. It started to rain.
I know what you’re saying: “But wouldn’t water from the sky just make the splashes of our kids that much greater?” I completely agree with you, but the people of Newman are much smarter than we are, and they know the dangers that come with a storm. Which is why the little campers were forced to make a massive retreat back inside. It was a sad, sad sight to see… but also a little amusing because it’s always a little amusing to watch little kids flee from the rain when they’re already soaked.
It didn’t take long for the campers and counselors inside to realize why the young ones were barreling into the building. They recognized the water dripping off their clothes as rainwater, the only kind of water that can ruin Splash Day.
At first, despair filled the camp.
One camper became so engulfed with sadness that she decided to throw herself at the mercy of the clouds, begging for a reprieve from the rain.
Needless to say, the morale of camp was at an all-time low. Who could blame them? Never before had Splash Day teetered on the line of temporary extinction.
But the human spirit is a powerful thing. Just when you think it’s been completely wiped away someone starts to do jumping jacks. And not just any jumping jacks, but sunshine jumping jacks! (These are like regular jumping jacks except you have to chant ‘Sun! Come! Rain! Go! Sun! Come!’ while you’re doing them.)
It wasn’t long before other people started doing the sunshine jacks as well. You could start to feel the energy surge in the building. You could feel the sense of hope come back alive as more and more began to jump and chant for the sun.
Oh sure, it may it seem silly to you for people to engage in such an activity. But you were not there that day, my friend. You were not there when the day of all days was almost taken away from us. And you were not there for the brilliant moment when we looked up the sky and couldn’t help but point:
The rain was dying down. The sun was beginning to shine. These two things pointed to one magnificent conclusion:
SPLASH DAY WAS BACK ON!!!!!
Oh it was glorious, my friends. It was so glorious in fact, that it answered the age-old riddle: What is greater than the greatest thing of all time? Answer: When the greatest thing of all time suddenly seems like it won’t happen at all, and then at the last minute…it does. That is greater than the greatest thing of all time!
After hours of water play, the counselors announced to the blissful campers that there was one more surprise in store for them.
Snowballs!
In my opinion, if the sensation of riding a water slide had a taste, it would be the taste of a strawberry and lemon snowball (others say it’s more of a bubble gum/lime taste, but those people are clearly insane).
In any case, it was the perfect end to the perfect day that almost didn’t happen. And I’m grateful I was a part of it. (I’m also grateful for one of the pictures I took below… you’ll know it when you see it.)
And this, my friends, is what Splash day is all about. Until next time…
-Randy W
Tagged: Boom Fizzle Blog
The Boom Fizzle Blog #5
Posted on July 25th, 2011 at 10:20 am
As all you loyal Boom Fizzle Blog readers know, I’ve been aware of the jazz band, The Fuzz Whistles, for a long time now (about eight days, I believe) and I’m a big fan. Not just because the band is made up of Newman camp counselors, but also because they’re extremely fun to watch, and they play incredibly catchy tunes like “I Fall in Lunch Too Easy”.
BUT, what I did not know is that some of the Narwhals (7th and 8th graders), have taken to singing this summer.
When I learned about this, the first thing I said was, “We need to put these two groups together—for surely the magic they will create will be so explosive and emotional that it will move the crowd to tears.”
“Duh,” Oskie replied. “That’s why we’re having the two groups perform together at a local retirement community.”
“Oh wow!” I exclaimed. “Can I come and watch the magic?”
“I guess,” he said. “But don’t embarrass them, Randy.”
“I won’t,” I promised with my fingers crossed (just to be safe). The next day I was on a bus with the talent, and I was more than a little excited.
As we pulled up to the venue I could tell that some of the Narwhals were getting nervous.
“Don’t worry,” I assured them. “You’ll be great. And if it looks like the show is going downhill, I’ll create a diversion that will captivate everyone.”
“No you won’t,” one of the Narwhals replied. “You promised Oskie you wouldn’t embarrass us.”
In any case, it turned out that the Narwhals had no reason to be nervous, as the beautiful music they made with The Fuzz Whistles delighted and dazzled the crowd.
With songs like “You Are My Sunshine” and “My Little Buttercup,” the Narwhals and The Fuzz Whistles got the crowd clapping and singing along with them.
During each song the Narwhals took turns with the lead vocals, so everyone had a chance to show off their pipes.
After a while, the Narwhals left the stage and joined the audience members as The Fuzz Whistles turned things up a little.
And then the show really started cooking when one of the Narwhals left momentarily and returned with a cute dog in hand.
I can now safely say that nothing cheers people up more than good jazzy tunes mixed with cute fluffy dogs.
For the last song The Fuzz Whistles invited the Narwhals back onto the stage to help them perform Louis Armstrong’s classic, “What a Wonderful World”… the dog helped too.
All in all, it was a great show, a perfect field trip, and an adorable dog. Not bad for a first-time collaboration. I’m glad I came up with the idea. But part of me wishes they had needed my diversion. It would have been as good as ten fluffy dogs, and twice as adorable.
—Randy W.
Tagged: 7th/8th,Boom Fizzle Blog
The Boom Fizzle Blog #4
Posted on July 23rd, 2011 at 10:00 am
Water Play
Today during first block I’ve decided to check on the Kindergartners to see what they might be up to. Upon arriving at their classroom I find them all frantically stuffing clothes into their cubbies, having just changed into their swimming attire.
I ask this little girl what’s going on, and she gleefully replies, “It’s water play!!”
At first I assume she means swimming, but then I notice the Kindergartners keep talking about strategy and planning. I don’t know what they are referring to, but I feel like this might not be about swimming after all.
And I was right.
The head counselor takes us outside to a play yard with a giant sandbox in the middle. Most of the kids run to the sandbox and wait for the counselor to turn on the sprinkler. Once she does, I witness the complete transformation of the campers, from little kids to serious workers, diggers, and designers.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do, people!” one of them shouts.
“Somebody start digging towards the front of the car!” another one adds as he takes control of the hose and pushes it down into the sand. “Hurry, before the water reaches it!”
I can tell they are building some kind of canal from one end of the sand box to the other, but I can’t quite understand what their ultimate purpose is. They seem to have one, as they have clearly developed a well thought out strategy on how to proceed.
About five minutes into water play, the counselors announce that snacks are now available. The group makes a mad dash for the snack area, temporarily leaving their carefully crafted sand work behind.
The snack available for the students is either a cup of Goldfish or a cup of Nilla wafers, but not both. I use the power of my counselor badge to get two cups of each. I then share my extra snack in secret with the campers at the sandbox to curry favor with them.
“OK, then,” I say as they finish off my snacks. “What exactly are you making and why are you making it?”
“We are making the biggest canal of all time!”
“No!” another camper interjects. “We are making the biggest canal of all time with water in it!”
“Well, yes,” the other one responds. “There will be water in it. I forgot to mention that part.”
“And where will this canal go?” I continue to press them for more information.
But suddenly I am forgotten, as a much bigger problem presents itself.
“Who shut off the water?!” bellows a dirty blond kindergartner who is holding the hose. “How are we supposed to finish this kind of job without water!”
“We’ll just have to finish the job with what we have,” a little girl says with conviction.
It is inspiring to watch, to be honest with you; a dozen determined youths working together to keep the dream alive. I really want to pitch in and help, but I know it’s not my place. I may feel like a kindergartner, but I know I’m just a man watching kindergartners as they try to build the biggest canal of all time, with water in it. And I’m okay with that.
But there never are enough hours in the day, are there? Before the canal is even half the size of the biggest one in the world, the campers are called away.
“Come on kids, it’s time for swimming!” a counselor announces.
The kids abandon their dream project for the day. But they all know they will be back soon enough. And so will the water.
- Randy W
Tagged: PK/K,Boom Fizzle Blog
The Boom Fizzle Blog #3
Posted on July 21st, 2011 at 1:36 pm
Swimming with the Pre-K/K
“I think you should watch the Pre-K/K during their swimming activity,” Oskie said this morning.
“OK, sure. Can I go swimming too?” I ask.
“No…your job is to take pictures and observe what’s going on. You may not swim.”
“But I really like swimming, and it’s really hot outside,” I plead.
“Please don’t get in the pool,” he said before walking away.
As soon as I walk into the pool area, this little girl turns her head in my direction. It’s clear by her facial expression that she’s asking the same question I’m thinking: Why am I not sitting at the edge of the pool with the rest of them? But I have no answer for her, so I just keep on walking, observing.
I come to this sight, where two campers are trying to splash their friend.
“Use your legs,” I want to tell them. “ They are your ultimate splash weapons!”
But I don’t say this, because I look around and see there are far too many counselors present.
They’re obviously there for the kids’ safety, but they’ve also saved me from mischief making, which is definitely for the best. I continue my walk around the pool perimeter.
I watch this tiny swimmer enthusiastically plunge underwater while the instructor holds on to him. I find myself feeling nostalgic for the days when I first discovered the underwater world. Those were the days; where you could be mesmerized by a new and bizarre watery land, but only for a few seconds at a time.
“Cherish it,” I tell him. “You’ve got to cherish the moment.” He doesn’t hear me, of course, because he’s underwater; but the instructor hears it and gives me an odd look. I look straight ahead and pretend like I didn’t say anything.
This turns out to be ideal timing, for as I look ahead I see another swimming instructor who is preparing her students for their jump into the pool.
If I can’t get in the pool, the next best thing would be to get a shot of one of the campers in mid-jump as they’re about to plunge into the water. Oskie can’t stop me from doing that.
This, however, proves to be more difficult than originally thought.
After watching the boy splash into the water, another idea comes to me. If I were to jump into this pool right now, in cannonball form of course, it would produce such a grand splash that I would be a hero to these kids.
Again, I do not act on my impulses. But I recognize the fact that it’s getting harder to deny them. The pool looks just so refreshing, and the campers seem to be having a blast swimming in it. Stay focused, Randy, think about the job at hand.
“OK campers, time to get out of the pool and dry off,” one of the swimming instructors announces.
I see one of the campers readying himself to make one last leap into the pool. I seize the opportunity and get my camera ready.
Darn.
Kindergarten Swim
There is a moment where the Kindergartners and the Pre-Kers pass each other as one group leaves and the other one enters.
“How was it?” I hear one of the Kindergarteners ask.
“Alex jumped into the pool and made a splash this big!” a Pre-Ker answers.
“Nah uh! It was bigger than that!” another Pre-Ker, who I assume is Alex, argues.
If only I had done a cannonball in front of them when I had a chance. Then they would all be talking about my splash. If only…
I notice right away that Kindergarteners seem much more accustomed to the routine of swimming instruction. They are all eager to jump in and impress their peers. They’re almost as eager as I am, I note to myself, but not quite.
I watch in awe as the swim instructors calmly deal with these very excited tykes, and teach them to swim! Just the thought of trying to competently teach something as important and complicated as swimming to Kindergartners makes my head spin.
But I push this thought aside and focus on catching my elusive white whale, a picture of a camper in mid-air.
Finally, the opportunity arises and I get my camera ready. Nothing is going to stop me now. I’ve got the timing down to a science. My finger is on the shutter button…
Of course.
-Randy W
Tagged: PK/K,Boom Fizzle Blog
The Boom Fizzle Blog #2
Posted on July 18th, 2011 at 2:37 pm
Morning Gathering
Let’s face it; sometimes it’s hard to be a camper. I remember when I was a kid I felt like summer camp was mostly just being told what to do and where to go. I never enjoyed that aspect of camp, as it seemed like my counselors were just bossing me around rather than allowing me to enjoy myself.
It appears Newman Summer Day Camp has realized that this sentiment exists among many people, as they have added an interesting and innovative twist to the camp process. Each day begins with a mass gathering for all 1st – 8th grade campers. (The Pre-K/K are swimming at this time, because let’s be honest…at that age, what’s more fun than swimming?)
Anyways, at this meeting each counselor stands in front of the campers and makes a short pitch about why the activity they are doing is the best, and why the campers should attend it. After the campers hear all the pitches they get to decide which ones they will participate in. Do you see the ingenuity behind that? Suddenly, these boys and girls are no longer powerless summer campers, they’re VIPs at a veritable smorgasbord of merriment. They’re in control of The Man, rather than the other way around. It’s a beautiful thing.
Here, counselor Marissa makes her pitch for the dance class that she will be teaching. Behind her, the iconic camp MCs, Josie and Spitz, dance around to show the kids what dancing is. (Full disclosure: These two pretty much dance all the time…for no real reason. So even if counselor Marissa were not making a pitch about dancing, these two would probably still be dancing. I just felt like it was important to be completely honest with you.)
Counselor Jason, who is in charge of Studio, decided to let campers of the past make his pitch for him, so he showed one of the music videos that had been made in the last camp session. The kids definitely seemed entertained by the video, but I also heard whispers among the kids around me, with the general attitude being: “We can do better than that.” I think this was all part of Jason’s clever plan. Show them something that not just looks fun, but also connects with their competitive spirit. Well played, Jason, well played.
Here, two counselors juggle together in an attempt to lure kids to their activity…which has absolutely nothing to do with juggling. Their activity is actually Tech Lab, but the counselors know that it’s not easy to give an impressive pitch with tech equipment and colorful connecting blocks. So instead they juggle. They juggle they’re hearts out because they know if they don’t some other counselor certainly will. It’s a jungle in here, I tell you.
Building Cardboard Mountain
After the gathering, I decided to stay at the grand and gorgeous Cardboard Mountain, as I heard there was a special activity being held where campers could help with the ongoing development of the dazzling structure.
The campers really seemed to grasp the importance of what they were doing, as everyone was very serious about getting the job done. There was no nonsense or funny stuff going on at all.
Lunchtime with the Fuzz Whistles
I was surprised to find a jazz band, The Fuzz Whistles, playing for the kids in the cafeteria during lunchtime. My first thought: Jazz? During lunch? Inconceivable! There’s no way the sound of smooth relaxing jazz will be conducive to the loud and chaotic atmosphere of a summer camp cafeteria. But I was wrong. The kids really seemed to enjoy it. Especially this kid below, who was so moved by the music that he felt the need to put his shirt up over his head for the entirety of lunch.
My personal favorite song of theirs was “I Fell in Lunch.” It was about the perils of getting too attached to your lunch before eating it, and then realizing how sad you are when you no longer have it. At least, that’s what I took away from the song. In any case, it’s a classic track.
Stop Motion Animation
It takes a lot of patience and imagination to make a stop motion animation movie. It also takes a lot of toy cars and play-doh. Luckily these kids had all these things, and were more than happy to let me observe the magic they made.
Like this boy, who told me he was working on a short film entitled: “Nightmare Before Dessert.” I asked him if he had seen Nightmare Before Christmas and if that was where he had gotten his idea. He told me that he hadn’t seen it but that he was pretty sure his was going to be the better movie. Maybe I’m crazy, but I believed him.
And there was this camper, who smashed a lightning shaped piece of Play-doh to his forehead for his movie about Harry Potter. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw this, as I used to do the same thing. Except I was in high school, and it wasn’t for a movie.
Now let me take you on a quick tour of the process of making a stop motion animation film (that way you can learn something and I can feel like a real investigative reporter—everybody wins!).
OK, so first the campers get their ideas out by using storyboards.
After they finish the storyboards, the camper then acquires the necessary props so they can shoot their movie. The actual shooting is a very slow and precise process because you have to shoot the film one frame at a time. This means you have to set up the props, shoot one frame of footage, then move the props, shoot again, stop, move the props and shoot again, until you’re finished. It’s amazing to watch these kids patiently complete this process, especially since only an hour earlier I witnessed many give up on the much quicker process of sitting down and eating a sandwich in the cafeteria.
After they finally finished shooting, the campers would edit the whole thing on computers. Clearly, it took a lot of time to completely finish a stop motion animation movie, but these kids seemed really driven to do so.
My favorite moment during my time in the Stop Motion room was when this boy, Andrew, got a great idea in the middle of shooting one of his films. He decided he wanted to show a 2D image turn into a 3D image. He did this by drawing an orange circle on a white board and then made it seem like it came out of the whiteboard and turned into an orange ball of play-doh that ran across the table.
I really thought this was a great idea, and I told him so. What I didn’t tell him was that I was secretly jealous and a little bitter that his level of creativity is so much higher than mine was at his age. But I mean, I couldn’t tell him. I’m an adult and he’s just a child. A smart, artistic, and gifted child. Sigh.
Return of The Fuzz Whistles
Once third block was over, I returned to Cardboard Mountain to see if anything was going on. I was delighted to find that the Fuzz Whistles were there, and they were giving Pre-K/K an extra show.
As you can see, the little kids were eating it up. You can also see Oskie taking pictures, because he clearly didn’t trust me to do my job. Alright, just to make him happy I’ll include some pictures he took as well.
OK, so his pictures aren’t bad. But I agree with you, they do lack the casual refined quality of mine.
Also, it must be said again, the kids of Pre-K/K were really into the smooth jazz sound of the band. I mean…they did a Conga line for them. Is there any higher sign of respect for the musician than the Conga line? I can’t think of any.
Random Encounter
As I left the concert and headed down a hallway, I came across this strapping young man. When I inquired about the state of his shirt, he informed me that he was Tarzan. Soon, other kids also saw him and decided they were Tarzan, too.
Soon after this photo was taken, one of the counselor’s came over and told them to fix their shirts. But for that brief shining moment, I was with six heroic Tarzans, and it was glorious.
And thus concluded my second day. Until next time, please continue to enjoy the above picture. Every time I see it I can’t help but chuckle a little.
- Randy W.
Tagged: PK/K,1st/2nd,3rd/4th,5th/6th,7th/8th,Boom Fizzle Blog
The Boom Fizzle Blog #1
Posted on July 16th, 2011 at 1:29 pm
When you look at this picture, I imagine a lot of questions might come to mind, like “What am I looking at?” and “What the heck are Boom Fizzles, and why should I fear them?”
Those are perfectly appropriate questions to have (and will be addressed soon enough) but neither sprang to mind when I took this picture. No, the question that popped up in my mind at the time was: How did I wind up here?
In order to answer that question, we have to go back about two weeks in the past, when I was lying on the couch in my hot Los Angeles apartment. That was when my cousin Oskie called me and asked if I wanted to fly out to New Orleans and write about the summer camp he directs. Obviously that sounded intriguing, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I would have enough material to write about for two and a half weeks.
“Trust me, dude,” he said. “This isn’t an ordinary camp.”
And if my first day is any indication, he’s absolutely right. This camp is crazy…in a great way.
As I was peddling a borrowed bike down the street toward my first day on the job, I began to feel slight trepidation because the camp had already started three days ago, which meant everyone had already gotten to know each other, except for me. It’s hard enough to be the kid who comes late to camp, but when you’re also the only kid with facial hair and a college degree, well that adds a whole new layer of awkwardness.
So after giving all of this some thought, I decided that my best chance of making a smooth transition from new guy to “one of the gang” would be by making a good first impression. “Just be fun and friendly,” I told myself. “Everything will work out fine.”
Unfortunately, I arrived at Newman just as the morning staff meeting had started and my bike ride in the humid New Orleans air had turned me into a human sweat rag. What’s worse, at the staff meeting, Oskie introduced me by shoving a microphone in my hand and asking me to rap along with Coolio’s “Gangsta’s Paradise.” So the first impression the counselors had of me was as a sweaty, poorly enunciating rapper. Not exactly what I was going for, but it could have been worse, right?
After the staff meeting, the counselors all went into different homerooms and braced for the onslaught of campers that would soon be arriving. Today happened to be “Dress Like Your Favorite Singer” day, so a lot of people were decked out.
When I asked campers who they were supposed to be, the three most common responses I got were Lady Gaga, Madonna, and “Who are you, and why are you taking a picture of me?”
After homeroom, there was a special treat for the campers. They all met up in Aronson Hall for Morning Gathering and to watch the Glee Club perform a song. I have to admit it was much better than my earlier musical attempt.
This is not the Glee Club. These are two camp counselors who introduced the Glee Club. I just wanted to show them because of their awesome costumes. The woman on the right, Josie, dressed in a killer Ziggy Stardust outfit, while the counselor on the left, Spitz, dressed as Kayne West, and he actually shaved his head in the same crazy way that West did it awhile back. Commitment people, that’s what it’s all about.
Here is the Glee Club. They performed the song “Forget you” by Cee Lo. And if you’re wondering if the audience enjoyed it, why don’t you ask the blonde boy in the picture below:
After the Glee Club concert, the campers moved on to enjoy their first activities. See, for the 1st through 8th graders, each camp day is divided into three major blocks of time, and each block allows campers to try a new activity that the camp has to offer.
Block 1
There were so many different activities to choose from it took me awhile to settle on one. Finally, I decided to visit “Studio” (which is what they call their video production room) where I heard they were going to make music videos. I assumed this would entail filming kids as they lip sync to songs on the stereo. Of course I was wrong – it was much more than that.
Not only did they have professional lighting and editing equipment, they also had a blue screen (a green screen would have been more impressive, but what can you do).
The kids watched a music video to get an idea of what they could do then they dispersed into small groups to make their own magic.
These girls decided to make a music video about friendship. And it was going great until one of them decided it also should be about her being a vampire.
“Hey, if she gets to be a vampire, then I want to be a vampire too!”
“Me too!”
“Me too!”
“Look.” The last one spoke. “We’re all going to be vampires, that’s just a given.”
I haven’t seen the finished product yet, but I suspect this may be the best music video about vampires and friendship that has ever been made.
A different group of campers decided they simply didn’t have time to write down their ideas or bother with the logistics of filming the video themselves, so they just ordered a counselor around while they focused on the creative aspects of the video (as one who has toiled in the Hollywood industry, I can tell you this is pretty close to how it is actually done).
At one point as I was following this group around this little girl turned to me and said, “What are you doing? Why are you following us around?” Her friend, behind her in the picture, turned to her and said, “Oh, he’s just a blogger.” This comment reminded me a lot of my father…though the girl’s tone was much less condescending. But that’s neither here nor there.
After each group had completed the filming of their music video, they would upload it onto a computer and begin the editing process. Of course, this process could take several days, which is why the music video activity will be taking place numerous times throughout the camp session.
Recess
After Block 1 there is a recess. During recess, the campers are allowed to play in multiple areas throughout camp, including Cardboard Mountain (where the Boom Fizzles roam). Naturally, I hightailed it to Cardboard Mountain, as it really was the coolest thing I had seen in a long, long time.
Here, Spitz is hyping the kids up as they descend into the madness of the mountain.
I asked him if it was okay if I explored the mountain myself. He smiled: “If you think you’re up for it.”
After taking a visit through Cardboard Mountain, I can say with all honesty that the rumors are true: It’s a jungle in there. An awesome, maze-like jungle that really isn’t meant for adults. I had fun anyways.
At one point, one of the kids realized I was not one of them and asked, “What are you?!” To which his friend replied, “He’s a Boom Fizzle!” before running away. I gotta be honest…if what he said is true, it explains so much.
Pre-K/K
When the second block began, Oskie told me it would be a good idea to check out the Pre-K/K groups so I could get an idea of what the camp offers to the very young. I was a little nervous about this, as most of my experience with large groups of young children has been headache inducing, to say the least.
My fears increased substantially when I walked into Music class and saw that the little ones had been given drums.
However, my fears turned out to be baseless thanks to the counselor in the blue shirt, James, and his delightful British accent. He was able to not only successfully direct how hard or soft the campers should hit their drums, but he was also able to bring several campers up to lead the group in a controlled drum jam. It’s amazing what the British accent can do.
Of course, that’s probably an ignorant thing to say, but I kinda believe it anyways. It makes sense that little kids become more complacent when they are being talked to by a person with a soothing English accent. (Actually I think this is true for both little kids and adults alike, but I digress.) Not that I’m trying to downplay James’s accomplishment, because accent or no accent what he did was quite impressive. I mean, I couldn’t even get one of the kids to share his drum with me… maybe I just lack skill.
Block 3
For the third block, I checked out the Deconstruction room. This is where campers are able to take apart things like computers and stereos, and then use the scrap parts to make cool artistic projects. I remember doing a lot of deconstructing in my day, but I used a hammer most of the time, and I never really made anything out of the things I “deconstructed,” I just left the mess for my parents to find. Good times…
The Special Treat
Third block ended earlier than usual today because there was a surprise waiting for everyone that was so secret not even the counselors knew about it. What was the surprise you ask? Well, after we got settled in the auditorium, we discovered that the surprise wasn’t anything special… just the best thing ever for both adults and children alike, that’s all:
That’s right, The Michael Jackson Wii video game! The only video game where you get to dance just like the King of Pop while you listen to every one of his hit songs. And not just that, but it was being projected onto a giant screen so all the campers could see and dance along.
I’m gonna be honest with you again, I didn’t really think Michael Jackson was that popular with today’s youth. But these guys went nuts. I mean, I’m talking from the oldest camper down to the tiniest one, everyone was just eating this up.
Out of all the things I had seen on my busy first day, this activity was by far the most brilliant. It captured everything that a summer camp should be: innovative, cooperative, fun, and, above all else, danceable. Very, very danceable.
The secret surprise was such a hit, in fact, that it took some time just to convince the campers to leave the auditorium and get picked up by their parents. There have been very few camps I have been to, no matter how fun they were, where at the end of each day I wasn’t ready to go home. But like my cousin had told me two weeks ago, this isn’t any ordinary camp.
And so ends my first day here. It started with me being a sweaty stranger with poor rapping skills, but ended with me being a welcomed Boom Fizzle that could do the Thriller with the best of them. All in all, not a bad way to start off. Now, I just need to brace myself for day two… I think I’m gonna go lie down for awhile.
—Randy W.
