A treasured tradition on the girls’ side is Ms Champini. During this evening activity, each cabin chooses a camp-related item/person and dresses their counselor up as that item/person.

Susie Ma’am’s favorite part of this is the fact that the campers really run the show. The counselor is not the leader – she is instead the canvas upon which paint and cardboard and props are heaped.

The “competition” is not just for the best costume, but also the “best talent” and “best interview”.

The other unique aspect of Champini is the fact that hosts are not counselors, but the Senior Campers. They create a theme, choose questions and facilitate the evening. Since this is one of the favorite evenings, it is a special honor to serve as the hosts. To our delight, these young women (all having finished 11th grade) regularly rise to the occasion.

You will be able to see more photos by going to “6/22/Special Event”. You will see a counselor who is adorned in a loud shirt and lots of Gold Bond in her hair to make it white/grey.

That, apparently, is me. I refuse to see myself as getting old, so the realization that “white hair = Steve Sir” is somewhat humbling. Susie Ma’am is quick to point out that I could use some humbling.

Back to Champini.

We had our handymen (Matt and Tony), hair in a drain (a typical camp challenge), sunscreen and bug spray.

The winner was a cicada (see the featured photo). Our winner had a costume that was long on style, low on visibility. She was practically blind. But it was her talent that put her over the top. Of course, cicadas are annoyingly loud, but she claimed that her talent was “skilled conversation.”

When the interviewer started to ask a follow-up question, the cicada allowed her to get 4-5 sentences into the question before emitting a loud shriek. The shriek produced copious laughter, so our winner continued interrupting multiple times.

I would not say that this is a life skill, but it was a marvelously amusing evening.

Actually, creativity and public speaking are life skills . . .

. . . Shrieking? Not so much.

Steve Sir