Day 2 - Parma to Middlefield

We had a leisurely day visiting with family in Parma, Ohio, suburb of Cleveland, but more importantly hometown of Drew Carey (I believe). Nevertheless, our niece Lydia had “dozvillia” from camp, she is attending a three-week stay-over Plast (Ukrainian scouts) camp in Middlefield (Amish country, third largest population of Amish in the world, according to a sign in town). Dozvillia is seven hours every Saturday of free-time for all campers, including counselors, when parents sign-out their children, do laundry, feed them pizza or some other fun food the kids are missing, and some take them to properly shower off the grime from a week of camping. It sounds a little absurd, parents “signing-out” their own children, but it makes sense in context. Some Plast camps only have one dozvillia Saturday (the second weekend of the three-weeks), but one reason we prefer to send our kids to the Ohio camp is that it has one every Saturday in the three-week period, we feel everyone needs a break after 24/7 of being with each other. My reasoning is: if I as a 39 year old mother can be completely drained after a full day with my kids, I can imagine how tired and in need of respite 16-20 year old counselors must feel after a week. So, I am a strong advocate of dozvillia. Plus, I miss my kids…

On to our trip: after dinner we drove the 45 minutes SE to the campground to visit with friends, some of whom we only see once a year. We missed not going to camp this year, but it is a welcomed break from the usual. I was delighted to receive hugs and love from dear old friends, many who expressed sympathies for the sudden loss of my father last fall. Just last year, my father and his wife and my half brother were camping with my family at the very same campground in Ohio at the “little birdie camp” (one week camp in the middle of the three-weeks for 3-6 year olds camping with their parents). I am grateful that we had that time with him, it was the first time I camped with my father in over twenty years, so I feel fulfilled with the Grace of God that I was able to spend my father’s last summer sitting with him by a campfire and singing all the songs he taught me in life. As he and I are both musicians, we shared a common passion and love: music and our Ukrainian heritage. I am blessed I got to sing with him one last time before losing him suddenly and unexpectedly three months later, almost to the day three months after sitting with him to the wee hours harmonizing and laughing much too loud at times.


We were told by many that this year’s camps were very peaceful and successful, good to hear, but I pray and hope that any angst from previous years were not coming from me venting too much. So, for any reading this blog that have suffered my many rants, raves, vents, and passionate harangues about all that is wrong with the world: TOUGH! No, SERIOUSLY, I kid and I will try to be less critical, however, you have to admit, my rants are always amusing (and bugging me about them gives many of you much entertainment, a service I’m happy to provide, or rather doomed to provide).