Scars, Too

Mike, Jim, Sarah, Eric, Jake, Marina, Michael, Hunter, Pierce, Jack … names that roll off my tongue too readily, capturing the enormity of loss too often.

In the life paradigm that is a calculation of risk vs. reward, it can be difficult to fully capture and embrace the existential role of camp professionals in establishing meaningful relationships with the goal of advancing positive youth development. Yet it is within our surrogate role as en loco parentis that we can perhaps best meet the gold standard of “helping kids to feel lovable and capable,” as expressed to a green group of camp counselors by former Tufts University Professor Lonnie Carton.

The sheer magnitude of that responsibility transcends a transactional approach to leading campers, settling instead on a relational one that encourages personal connection and an increase among youth of self-agency, ever important in a world in need of resilience, compassion, and engagement.

While this a responsibility many no doubt take to heart, it is those same hearts that can be somewhat shattered by early death. Such is the nature of cumulative grief, which I recently discussed with Harriet Vogel, a grief counselor and author of Sad Is Not Bad: It Is How We Grieve After We've Loved. She explained that such emotions can result from the occurrence of multiple deaths, either at the same time or in an iterative way.

Or, in other words, one plus one equals two times four.

In my Psychology Today piece “A Time Too Short” I offered, “The loss of a young person, by accident or by design, devastates families, communities and institutions. It may also prompt a series of questions, some answerable and some not.”

One such question may be an age-old one, inspired by a more declarative statement of Alfred Lord Tennyson: “Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”

It is something I asked and answered during my eulogy in Westport, Connecticut, of a former camper (and staff member) who died in a horrific car crash at age 20 … and thought about again two days later after another crash claimed the life of a 19-year-old alum, whose funeral in Washington, D.C., I also attended.

Our responsibility as caretakers, regardless of the season, is a topic I tackled in my article “No Retreat: Convening Communities of Caring in Times of Loss and Grief” for the September/October 2018 edition of Camping Magazine.

There I wrote, “Amidst the rush of preparing our staff to be effective counselors of youth, establish meaningful mentoring relationships, and model such important constructs as sensitivity, positive risk-taking, conflict resolution, and leadership, we may unwittingly lose sight of the fact that one of the most seminal achievements of our work is creating communities – year after year.”

I quoted longtime camper Benjamin Quincy, who told me, “Camp pushed me out of my comfort zone, teaching me how to be comfortable while facing strife.”

Ben’s acknowledgement of pain, at camp and in life, punctuates the fact that camps and campers may endure times of great hardship. Perhaps none is more devastating than deaths of close ones during camp and in the “off-season.” In either instance, our roles subtly shift from leading and directing to supporting and consoling.

While rushing between services, I received an email from a friend and seasoned camp director reflecting on such roles and the importance of self-care. Of his community’s sequential losses, he wrote, “I remember wondering if it would ever end. Of course, it did, but it was difficult finding a way to be there for others while also caring for myself. I am sure those feelings are familiar to you.”

Too familiar, in fact.

While some have sought to disprove Tennyson’s conclusion, his assertion remains an important measure of the saliency of life-changing relationships forged at camp. There, those most affected by loss are surely inclined toward empathy, according to Vogel.

As the years go by and more young people die, more anguish piles on, and each loss is a scar, too.

That choice, empathy, for me, is easy … though carrying the scars of serial loss is not.

Stephen Gray Wallace, M.S. Ed., is a doctoral candidate in the Institute for Ethical Leadership at St. Thomas University in Miami. He is also an associate research professor and president and director of the Center for Adolescent Research and Education (CARE). Stephen has broad experience as a school psychologist and adolescent/family counselor. He is a member of the professional development faculties at the American Academy of Family Physicians and American Camp Association and a parenting expert at kidsinthehouse.com, NBC News Learn, and WebMD. He is also an expert partner at RANE (Risk Assistance Network & Exchange) and was national chairman and chief executive officer at SADD for 16 years. Stephen is an award-winning writer and author of the books Reality Gap and IMPACT. Additional information about Stephen’s work can be found at StephenGrayWallace.com.

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Vogel, H. (2015). Sad is not bad: it is how we grieve after we’ve loved. Denver, CO: Outskirts Press.

Wallace, S. (2018). No retreat: convening communities of caring in times of loss and grief. Camping Magazine. https://www.acacamps.org/resource-library/camping-magazine/no-retreat-convening-communities-caring-times-loss-grief (30 Nov. 2020).

Wallace, S. (2013). A time too short. Psychology Today. https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/decisions-teens-make/201303/time-too-short (30 Nov. 2020).