Technically Day Three would start around 1:45 am, when Danko and I finally hit the sack after hanging around the campfire with good folks. That, and playing glow in the dark Bacci ball…google it and purchase it, it is definitely a blast.
(this is a photo of Indiana, Danko is still experimenting with putting in photos, it doesn't even match the text next to it, keep logging in, I hope we get the photo thing down soon)
We woke up around half past seven, showered, packed up our gear, and ate breakfast. We attended the camp’s Ukrainian Catholic Liturgy, which is celebrated at a small outdoor chapel (is that the correct description?). I love these Liturgies outside, although the distractions for the kids might be challenging at times, playing with sticks, ripping off tree leaves, and everyone's favorite pastime, digging holes, I enjoy outdoor Liturgies.
The plan was to attend Mass and head out, BUT, it was “Den’ Plastuna” which is to say a type of “Open House” at camp when the campers present little skits or performances for the parents and guests. We had to see at the very least the performances of our nieces Juliana and Lydia and nephews Michael, Andrew, and Paul (sidenote: our newest nephew, Johnnie, much too young to perform at seven months, but his smiles are quite entertaining); inevitably, we ended up staying to hear all five “sub” camps (pre-schoolers, elementary girls, elementary boys, secondary girls, secondary boys). NOTE: Major kudos to the head counselor of the elementary girls. For years I’ve been hearing the campers sing popular American melodies with Ukrainian words. Speaking as a trained ethnomusicologist, needless to say, it drove me bonkers. The melodies oft were not hum-able, nor lent well to the rhythms that the Ukrainian language demands. This year I was delighted to hear the elementary girls sing their camp song to a Ukrainian melody, making it easy for the words to fit the tune (lyrics were re-written to fit this specific camp’s theme) and it was literally music to my ears. One of the main missions of these Plast camps in the Ukrainian diaspora is to pass along to our next generations, Ukrainian language, culture, history, and a sense of heritage. So, it’s been a pet peeve of mine to hear too much English spoken at camp and too much non-Ukrainian culture represented in the programs. It is an understood problem and an academically intriguing issue that arises at these “culture” or “hyphenated American” camps, BUT as a parent I’d rather fight the inevitable and keep trying to make my kids as “Ukrainian-American” as my husband and I are: that is totally bilingual and reading and writing in two languages. It’s just a small part of what is needed to teach children a culture that is not dominate in society, but every little cog makes a clock a clock. So, congrats to the 2007 Pysani Kamin tabir novachok bulava for being a strong cog! (note to non-Ukrainians: that is the counselors of the elementary girls in Ohio)
Okay, after all that, you are assuming we left by noon….HA! A few goodbye hugs, see-ya soon’s, and “Email me!” and it’s well into lunchtime. Plan was to ride off and eat lunch on the way. One dear friend, or “prysvoyena,” which literally translates as “taken as one’s own,” as in family, asks where we are eating lunch and wants to eat with us. We are all for that, we miss her and love to spend time with her, and then our family joins the plans, even better, people we love, hate to leave, and I feel blessed that they all want to eat lunch with us. It’s as great as a day in high school when the “in-crowd” insists you sit with them in the cafeteria: very cool, and simultaneously warming.
Lunch turns into 21 people, we left Middlefield, Ohio, after 3pm, with 8.5 hours of road to Portage, WI, waiting us, but having that time with our family and friends is worth it: we’ll sleep when we are dead.
Now, we are driving, through the magic of cell phones, had another lovely offer to stop off earlier in Illinois (missed them at lunch, but also, greatly loved folks, good hearts), but Danko and I decide that we can make it to Wisconsin, now that Starbucks is open 24 hours, perhaps another time at the Chicago Lisowsky’s (thanks for the great offer).
PS I sympathize with all who travel from Chicago to Cleveland, talk about sorry rest stops in Indiana, the Fazzoli lasagna is still sitting like a rock in my stomach…ugh.
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