The Circle Game

I spent this past weekend at a camp reunion at Hidden Valley Camp in Freedom, Maine. I spent every single summer there between the ages of zero and thirteen, as a “staff brat” (my mom was the  program director) and then camper. It was and still is a magical place—an elemental ingredient of my childhood that, in many ways, made me the person I am today.

HVC was also the inspiration behind my first novel, Eden Lake. The characters and the plot line are, of course, fictional. But the book echoes themes of real-life experiences, and contains many details borrowed from or inspired by reality. The place I pictured in my mind while writing the book had some key details that were different from Hidden Valley, like the fact that the camp was set right on a lake. (At HVC by contrast, the lake is a short hike away from the main camp.) But lot of what I imagined was straight out of my childhood memories and pictures.

The camp facilities have changed in some ways, and overall the place has expanded. But much is exactly the way it was in the 70s and 80s. It was a lovely, strange, and sort of surreal experience to be there, hanging out and reminiscing with many of the people I knew (or who, at least, knew me!) as a child.

I felt a little like I was time traveling back to my own childhood. In fact, as great as it was to be back there, it also filled me with a sense of longing, almost grief, for what will never be again. To quote one of the songs that was frequently sung around the campfire back in those golden days of the 1970s and 80s, “We’re captive on the carousel of time. We can’t return, we can only look behind from where we came.”

So, now I’m back home, and feeling all nostalgic and a little melancholy and discombobulated. (You know how in movies, whenever anyone time travels, something weird happens, like their ears bleed? Like that, kind of. )

I also feel very much aware that my kiddos are almost the age I was when the era of Hidden Valley in my life ended, and my parents and the long-time director/owner of HVC moved on to other camp ventures. E & C are in the late twilight of childhood, and I find myself wishing I could somehow give them a few more years of it to savor and enjoy. But you never fully appreciate anything when you’re in the midst of it as much as you do in retrospect, do you.  Joni Mitchell, once again, put it better (Dammit, Joni, stop making me cry!): You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.

But at least you can go back and visit. If you don’t mind the bleeding.