Bad Tidings

Bathed in the glow of aspens and Indian summer sunlight, camp has undergone a very strange and sad week. In such a small, isolated, tight-knit community, any incident reverberates through the staff and leaves us all at a loss.

Two staff members were fired as a result of a flirtation that soured irreparably and caught the attention of certain managers that wanted to set an example, no matter the fairness of the decision. One staffer was shunted back to Georgia, the other stranded in the limbo of South Lake in October. The latter was a riding friend and I can't help but resent his perfunctory termination. 

In the tense, quiet aftermath of the firings, our wonderful dining room manager received word that her young, healthy husband had died in his sleep. 

She was devastated. Catatonic. 

Laura and I escaped the funereal pall of camp and rode our bikes down to Taylor Creek to watch the salmon spawning, and saw two bears munching blissfully on the plentiful fish carcasses. Then we went to Kiva and sat in the sand and eventually started talking about love and grief and the terrifying fragility of life. 

It was necessary.