Camp Zoe Memories
Final Fire
The final camp fire was a solemn ritual. We extinguished all artificial lighting after we slow danced with our camp honeys for the last time and waited with our cabin mates for a torch lit escort to the Sinkin' Creek gravel bar.
A flaming arrow ignited a large, unlit pyre of wood and sent a huge spiral of flame and smoke into the night sky to start the ceremony. We sang upbeat songs at first.
The up-tempo numbers gave way to the melancholy songs. The owner(s) made a speech and horseback riding and canoeing certificates were awarded. Counselors presented trophies for best boy and girl campers.
A flaming ZOE sign floated down the Sinkin' Creek in a modified canoe at the conclusion of the ceremony. Flames blazed from the three foot tall letters that were prepared in advance with rags, chicken wire and kerosene. Two staffers waded along side to keep the top heavy effigy from tipping over.
Counselors handed us waxed paper cups (like you might use for ice cream) and stumpy candles for the next traditional event. We lit the candles, put them in the cups and set them in the creek. This symbolized Zoe's eternal spirit. We watched 100 candle boats float down into the darkness. (Someone waited downstream to catch them for use at the next final camp fire). I once watched a candle boat elude its captor and float downstream into eternity. I wondered how far it went.
Rain forced the ceremony indoors on July 2rd, 1976. A new tradition was born that night when the girls from Cabin III sang a song written by counselors Larry Eberle and Scott Patterson earlier in the week. Campers sang "Hey Look Around You" at every final campfire in every session of every year that followed until Camp Zoe closed for good in 1986.
The next morning it was time to go. I rolled up my sleeping bag, removed the shampoo, and retrieved bug spray from my cabin window sill. I claimed my beach towel and swimming trunks from the clothes line and threw my damp wading shoes on top of everything else before I latched my foot locker for the last time.
My dad picked me up in our '72 Chevrolet Kingswood station wagon except for 1979 when my grandmother collected me in her Buick Skylark. In 1980, the camp transported a bus full of campers to Rolla, Missouri to shorten the drive for parents coming from St. Louis and other points north and I was on that bus. I hung with Stu Hanna until Dad motored down from K.C. It saved him three hours in travel time that year.
The first hour of any car ride home from camp was sad. An entire year without Zoe loomed. The rest of the summer was downhill. I told my dad about most of the camp adventures; I kept the ones about the girls to myself. I looked forward to the air conditioning, TV, and mom's cooking as we got closer to town. It was good to see my little brother and pet the cat. I was away for two weeks or a month but it felt like much longer.
I wrote to some of the girls I met after the stellar summer of 1978. I became quite a correspondent and when I received a letter from a camp friend it was the highlight of my day in the dreadful weeks that followed my return to the city. Those notes made me smile and the dialogue continued throughout the year. I keep the old letters in a shoe box in the basement here in Overland Park.
Update: The first Zoe alumni weekend took place in August, 2004 at Camp Zoe. Former campers, counselors, and staff returned to the gravel bar to reflect on the Zoe phenomena. What made it magical? Read my essay on The existential bonanza of summer camp.