REMEMBER MY NAME

This was a pivoting line from my most recent favorite television show, “Breaking Bad” where the main character became enemy number one and made sure every one knew in fact he “was the danger.” I am far from dangerous and being anywhere near top meth cook. However, its funny how working with children for much of my YMCA career how they remember you as the protagonist with a name and associate with a notable experience. In 1998, I departed direct service and subsequently took on more administrative positions in our corporate office, the elusive “Metro Office.” To this day, I hold to my roots of a programmer (no, not the computer type – but leisure service delivery). Indirectly, I apply the program logic model to even the most mundane administrative tasks within my current role as Payroll Administrator.

When the distance between my departure from program to administrative roles was perhaps months or even a year or two, my understanding of seeing children from my programs was more feasible. Whether visiting facilities throughout our service area or out about town with friends for an evening out I surely would run into those hundreds maybe even thousands of youth in the myriad programs I operated. From summer camp and before/after school child care to swim lessons and teen programs and the various enrichment classes in between I operated throughout the county, left me very little places to hide from anyone. Even a routine trip to the grocery store or even to dine out, I was always on stage and had to be prepared for the glaring eyes of someone begging to stop by and say “hi” and “remember my name” or “remember when…”

Strangely, I have an aptitude remembering names and faces, just have a dreadful time putting them together and even worse how I may know them. By now you would think I would know that face, that name all circle back to my career choice. Despite, what you may think children as they grow up, do often look the same but all grown up. I would have thought by now, being so far removed from programs that I would no longer run into those I served through my programs. Last fall, I went to visit a friend and of all places I ran into one of my teens, who no longer is a teen but an adult at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport as a manager of the airport gift shop. I leisurely strolled from the gate after deplaning and thought I safely past the gift shop without stopping to window shop the myriad magazines and then suddenly I hear, “Mr. Robert! Mr. Robert!” being called. First I think they must be paging a passenger, then next thing I know I am being tapped on my shoulder. Surely, over the years, I gained weight and lost weight, lost even hair, grew a goatee, don’t wear glasses, dress less like a YMCA camp counselor and more like a professional showing my true age or more so out of a shared element of familiarity. I, too, must still have some resemblance to my past self for this young adult, Beau, to remember me.

As I walked the long corridor of the terminal, he offered to carry my bags so he can have some time with me to reminisce of the difference I made in his life. I can’t possibly remember what I must have said or done, but my actions must have left him some positive scar engraved somewhere in his mind. He shared with me how, as a teen, the YMCA he found refuge from the stresses of school and a home life which was not always peaceful. I’ll be honest, I was more interested in finding baggage claim and my ride than listening to his story – which is totally not like me, but I was on vacation and excited to get away from my own world of work and home. As he shared with me his tale, I probably may have only caught on to minute pieces of his story which he passionately shared with me. Guilty as charged – I was not being an active listener let alone hearing what he said.

In my programming days, I hired staff who genuinely liked working with teens (like pre-schoolers – it’s an acquired skill) and made sure the program offered the opportunity for teens to explore careers, develop new life skills, make new friends in a safe, caring and fun environment. As Beau continued to tell me how, because of the YMCA he pushed himself to be the first one in his family to graduate high school, albeit with a struggling grade point average hovering to just barely making it. After high school graduation, he went on to take a job as he didn’t have much else and was fortunate to have a supervisor who helped him get into the community college and help pay for him to take classes and eventually to get an associate degree in business management. From what I gathered, with only a suitcase, he decided to get out of south Florida and have an opportunity for a fresh start in life.

Arriving at the baggage carousel, I retrieved my luggage and spotted my ride, Beau finished his reminiscing and asked for a business card as he’d like to keep in touch and shook my hand and pulled me towards him in a hug, holding on a little longer and expressed his appreciation for believing in him and offering opportunities when everyone else “closed the doors on him.” With the wiping of a tear or two from my eyes, I once again felt the many convincing reasons I’ve worked with this great organization for as long as I have. Working with youth is by far is the most rewarding and selfless career choice. Paying dividends, years later when being fondly remembered. Beau and I parted ways, his silhouette becoming another faceless shadow diminishing as we walked opposite directions, him back to his gift shop and me with my ride, exiting to the terminal to the parking garage. Excited to have arrived and to visit a friend whom I haven’t seen in several years, I was, perhaps one of a few times you’d catch me speechless. For a brief moment in time, I managed to silently enjoy the moment I was thrown into the center of attention, because someone took time to stop me and express their gratitude for the impact I have made in their life.

Over the years, I realize so many times in my awesome career, Maya Angelou, in her poignant and elegant use of words believed “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” I can only hope our next generation of programmer’s are presented the opportunity (at least once in their career) to be thanked for their impact. Though I’ll probably never be materialistically rich … I’ll be rich in life’s experiences, friendships, memories and contentment for they will always remember my name.

  

 

WHY ME?...TO…Y ME?

As a Gen X’er, I was born in 1969 and as a youth my generation gave birth to the term “latch key” kids as more single parent households headed by Mom and dual-working families existed than any previous generation. Perhaps this explains the need for independence and the need for immediate self-gratification and constant change in all that us Gen X’ers do. Like many Gen X’ers I love my technology (I have iPhone, iPod, iPad, iMac, Wii, Roku, LED tvs, etc, etc.,.). I work to live, in simple sense, my work enables me to have the quality of life, I enjoy – having vacations that take me places as opposed to staycations – having a home I enjoy and look forward coming home to after a long day.

In just about three months (July 2014), I complete thirty, yes thirty years working for not only the same organization, but the same local association of this great national organization. Yes, you read correctly, thirty, the big 3-0 years in one organization, one association. This is an accomplishment by any person in any generation but for a Gen X’er this is rarely, if unheard of. My generation is the first generation to forgo the value of loyalty to an employer, to take on another position which offers better salary and benefits without a second thought.

That very last sentence of the previous paragraph, loyalty to an employer, is where the difference between me and other Gen X’ers begins. My loyalty to the YMCA has been ridiculed by my closest friends that I am still waiting to grow up and take on a real job to scoffed by fellow co-workers of not wanting to venture out of my comfort zone. Let’s add I remained local for college and graduate school and didn’t leave home – but that’s a whole another story.

My closest friends, have taken all their best shots at me over the years. I’ve heard it all:

- “how do you expect to ever make more money if you don’t leave”
- “if they treated you better – you’d be in a better position now”
- “this new administration doesn’t respect your tenure and knowledge”
- “don’t you want to try something else?”
- “aren’t you bored?”

To answer all my friends, the answer to those questions:

- “I guess more money would be nice, but I live comfortably.”
- “I’m not sure this stage in my life, I want a ‘better’ position.”
- “Sometimes you just swallow your pride, other times you soar like an eagle.”
- “My many positions have exposed me to more than you can ever imagine.”
- “In my many years, I’ve never had a moment that I called boring.”

Then co-workers, were just as anxious to get their best shots. After a while the questions get stale, as the leadership changes, the questions don’t.

- “What do you want to really do?”
- “Are you happy with what you’re doing?”
- “What was your favorite position?”
- “What is your passion? What excites you?”
- “What kept you here so long?”

It’s hard not to keep a stiff upper lip and not respond in a ravenous, sarcastic tone to anyone who asks these questions, but particularly held true to co-workers. I try to smile, knowing it is not their fault they’ve not had this great opportunity I was offered.

- “I am where I need to be now – making a difference here – now.”
- “I am content, sometimes it was just not content rather who my boss was.”
- “All my positions had more positives than negatives and cannot just pick one.”
- “My passion is to ignite the spark in all that I do, and excites me when

    it spreads.”
- “My life just got in the way, this was the reward of a curve ball thrown at me.”

As leaders give tours of our office, many are paraded around in a show and tell of our organization’s history and our future, there’s always seems to be a stop by my office (I often feel like the freak behind the curtain at the local carnival that you pay $1 to see) to certainly be asked,

- “how long have you been here”,
- “how old were you when you started”
- “what were the various positions have you’ve done over the years.”

Please, don’t assume this as I think of this as a negative experience; as the only thing negative is others don’t get to enjoy the same glorious recognition and the redundancy in answering questions, as its always fascinating to each group touring that someone has stood the test of time. I find it equally fascinating watching their reaction to when I answer the questions.

- “In July 2014 it will be been 30 years.”
- “14.”
- “In general, Programs, IT, Grants, Fundraising, Executive, Payroll, Benefits,            etc.”

I, unofficially, have gained the title of C.U.P., I am the association Chief Utility Player. I manage to have been blessed with the ability to learn the mechanics in whatever I am thrown into quickly adapt to my environment and make the best of it. Or even had some great leaders who allowed me to define my own position in implementing much needed programs or services as seen necessary. As a Gen X’er the ability to have a diverse, flexible, challenging work environment has always allowed me to thrive in almost every situation I’ve held. The title, C.U.P. I pretty much gave myself, as I’ve only taken one position by choice as a promotion, the remaining have always been moved to new challenges by staff senior then myself. I believe it has become, “Let’s see if Robert can do it.”

The challenge was not how to keep me stimulated throughout my years but the ability to tap my wealth of knowledge, skills and abilities to benefit the organization as a whole. I wholeheartedly believe as each new administration comes in, they part their leadership, values and the path we take and once they move on, they, too have left their legacy for the next to do repeat the same. I’ve been through countless changes and realized the only thing changing is change. Over the years many faces, direction and leadership have come and go, however; it’s the steadfast and stable survivors left to inform our new leadership of our past. As a Gen X’er, I truly believe I’ve been blessed with a great diverse career that can put most high level executives to shame. I remain humble to my beginnings and take ownership of my career journey.

With the support and blessings of my awesome parents, my adopted mothers (those wonderful women in my life who look out for me), great mentors (those great men who still stand tall when I look up) and cherished friends all egged me on to begin to document my life at the YMCA. In one way or another, this blog and my MacBook Air (back to my love of technology), resulted in the birth of YMEJOURNEY. It is my hope, to many of the questions above will be answered in future posts and share my ride of a lifetime in the roller coaster of my career.

HOW TO MAKE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

As a new child care program director, I immediately inherited five low-income after-school programs with one in particular located in almost exclusive African-American community. Being, white, male in my twenties, I’m sure I stood out amongst all the various shades of everything but Caucasian.

Its not that I felt uncomfortable in such a situation, but to say I felt all the children’s eyes were on me, as they never saw someone as white as myself. I felt over one hundred pairs of eyes just glued to my every move with the exception of this one fair-haired and even more white-skinned than me girl about seven that was in a corner of the cafetorium, all alone. As I approached her, I frustrated myself in the whole thirty second walk over to her, how am I going to ask her why she’s there all alone and not playing with the other children. In all my years of experience (at the time about ten years) I find it best just to be upfront with them, as they can smell bogus sincerity of adults like a polar bear smelling food miles away on the bare artic tundra.

After a few moments with the girl, whose name is Rebecca but likes to go by Becca (she made sure pronounced it for me as Ba Kah) and told me her wary, shy way that she is new to the school, and is seven (got that right!), doesn’t have any friends in the after-care program and feels very different from everyone. I asked her if she would like me to walk over with her to the other children her age, she quietly declined. I went over to her group leader, and Ms Thompson and she told me “she’s just like that” and “doesn’t want to be with the other children.” I was rather annoyed at Ms Thompson so readily to give up on Becca, but my heart knew she didn’t give up on her as much as was frustrated that she just couldn’t get Becca to come around. I said my good-byes to my staff and Becca too and made a promise that I would see her soon and assured her that she will have new friends to tell me about when I come back.

As I drove home that evening, I racked my brain how to help Becca assimilate into her new school and make friends. As a painfully, shy child myself, this made the challenge all that much greater for me to help her overcome. As I stopped at the local grocery store on the way home and allowed my nose to wonder past the bakeries I smelled fresh baked cookies. Then the idea light bulb shone down on so brightly that it nearly blinded me. Children of all ages love chocolate chip cookies and especially hot, gooey, chewy fresh out of the oven. So my brief stop to pick up dinner for myself became a nothing short of a project. Mind you, this was the days before the internet and world wide web let alone having smart phones to check the recipe, so to double check the ingredient list, I had to get to a pay phone and call my Mom. I managed to get everything Mom told me to have on my list and multiplied it by six – one for each of my five staff members there and one for me. This site was fortunate the cafeteria manager allowed the after-care staff full access and use of the cafeteria. The cafeteria manager more often than not stayed late and often helped our staff use her equipment. So need to find, pack and drag to the site baking sheets, mixing spoons and bowls, just bring on surprise and the numerous bags of ingredients.

After ample sitting time of the batter, I had to make sure Becca was in my group along with other boys and girls her age – so I had mainly seven year-olds filled with excitement, chatter and restlessness as school was done for the day. After getting settled at their designated table, I explained today’s snack will be homemade chocolate chip cookies and we will be making them as a group. Its not going to be prepackaged nor bakery store bought but we will use our own hands to make this. After passing out food preparation gloves, I deliberately had each child come to the front of the room and add an ingredient (the flour, the sugar, the brown sugar, the eggs, the chocolate chips, the baking power err…was it the baking soda) and allowed them each a turn to mix and stir. Once it was all mixed in well and allowed time for it to sit, I used the time for them to share what they liked best about the process of making the cookies. To my surprise Becca was the first to raise her hand and shared she enjoyed doing this as a group and the game we played while we put the ingredients together. I asked the children to say their name and share their favorite food, sport, TV show, game or book while they helped prepare the batter.

I put down a place setting consisting of a generous amount of parchment paper for each child and put a quarter baking sheet in the middle of the table within hands reach of four small hands. After having set about twenty table settings, I went around to each child, one-by-one, allowed them to reach in the mixing bowl and take two handfuls of batter and put in on their parchment place settings. Bad idea, “she took too much”, “my hands aren’t as big as his”, “he cheated”, “I didn’t get any” shrieked by all, these were definitely not the words I wanted to hear, I assured them I have enough batter to allow everyone to make their cookies.

Once the children made all the cookies, we placed their cookies on the baking sheets provided by Ms Allen and allowed her to bake them for us. The delicious aromas of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies filled the entire room as the closer they became to being done. The children’s excitement to see the product of their process was contagious amongst us adults. However, since the cookies took almost two hours to finish baking all of the trays, the adults decided it would be best to allow the children to enjoy them the next day when we have almost everyone in attendance.

So, today’s the fruits of our labor will be shared with our cookie makers. As we asked each child to reach with a napkin and take one cookie from one sheet and wait until everyone had one and they can take seconds. I made sure as staff went around to give seconds they focused on a different group of children there first go around. Once all children had their cookies, we asked them to not eat the cookies and share with their group leader how the cookies were the same but also different. As I walked around the room, I heard “one’s fatter”, “that one is lighter than that one”, “this doesn’t have as many chocolate chips”, “this one is crunchier”, “mine’s looks burnt” and every opposite and in between variation of explanations for each of the children in the program.

We gathered all the children in front of the stage and had our daily announcements. Today’s theme was to talk about the cookies. I explained to them no matter how different the cookies looked from each other they all tasted the same. Some just baked better than others, some were thin and crispy while others were fat and chewy and then allowed them to share other differences they noticed. Some told how one of their cookies had more chocolate chips than the other one, others shared how some cookies looked like certain animals, but regardless of their differences they all still tasted the same.

As the children were eating their cookies, I read them a book called “We're Different, We're the Same” and if my memory serves me right, it was through the same people who brought us Sesame Street. In total developmentally appropriate language and pictures, it shared the point I tried to make baking chocolate chip cookies. I can’t ever promise that Becca ever fit in with the rest of the children, nor can I promise I helped stop racism but I left my little part of the world just slightly more compassionate through the tummies of an entire after school program.

CIRCLE OF LIFE

Good Evening,

As I look throughout this room, I see how Sesame Street had it right when they sang and I promise with a definitive no I won’t sing the song for you, I promise.

(interject appropriate plug for my post,  “Please Don’t Let Mr. Robert Sing”  you’ll understand how off key I was trying to make light of this)

The lyrics go something like this…

“One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?“

I’m like all you others in coming to join you in celebrating Mr. Bernard Bell’s retirement. Its truly an honor for me to share my memories of Mr. Bell.

I invite you to take a ride back in my time machine to my 1984…

By the time I was a freshman in high school I’ve already attended three elementary schools and three middle/junior high schools in two different states and one Canadian province and for a painfully shy student this was a just not a day at Disney World. Thankfully, my parents decided not to move throughout my high school years. Keep in mind, I was the shy, never a troublemaker in high school, I was respectful and well liked by almost all my teachers.

Somewhere in the first couple weeks of high school, I meandered the 500 hall of South Broward High School in Hollywood and avoided going to my fifth period Algebra I class. It was not that I didn’t like the teacher, its just I hated with every letter of the word to the nth degree anything to do with math. At the time, Mr Bell along with Mr Davis were our security team on patrol with their golf cart and caught me, err…busted me skipping this class.

Mr Bell’s first words to me were nothing short of intimidating and painfully truthful. As most of you know, he has a uncanny talent telling you what you ought to hear not what you want to hear. Adding to this, his height and build added more of a fear into my blood. His words resonated as life will throw me a curve ball one day and in the real world and by all odds I will get a boss who I can’t stand. He explained how I will still have to show up to work and give it my all, as others will depend on me and the weight of my world will be my own to bear. With my first detention in hand, Mr Bell personally escorted me to my Algebra class.

This was the first of nearly a dozen or so detentions for consequences of the choices I made. Although, I respected Mr Bell immensely I was deathly afraid of this man, mainly because I felt I let him down every time he caught me skipping (and it was always a math class). Over four years, I learned about life, responsibility and most importantly that some adult did care about me and was willing to listen to me when I needed it the most.

Let’s now take a climb back into my time machine as we fast forward to 1992…

I’ve now been out of high school for four years, I’ve managed to continue my education and have already have eight years under my belt working with youth at the YMCA and was in my first professional position as a Child Care Program Director responsible for ten off site locations. I was at one of these locations, helping train a new staff member in her new Site Director role.

The happily, loud and boisterous elementary aged children entered the cafeterorium (a combination cafeteria and auditorium) to start their day with the YMCA after care child care program. As we start the day, I am going through operating procedures and training my new Site Director. As I explained the first part of day we separate into two groups indoor (for those having homework) and outdoor (for those not having homework). After 30 minutes, we bring everyone back together and have a character value discussion and snack.

As we walk toward the parent sign-out area, in walks Mr Bell to pick up his son. Whoa! I had to take a double take to realize here’s the man who I was deathly afraid of but held to highest esteem of respect and now his offspring is in my child care program. Once we became reacquainted and chatted and he signed out his son, I threatened my new site director with her job (not really but laid fear into her pretty strongly) that her program better be on point and nothing could happen to this man’s son. Over the next several years, Bernie would be returning participant to our program – I guess I must have done something right.

My last stop in my time machine takes us to 2002…

I am still working at the YMCA and have eighteen years of various experiences and capacities. I am now the Contract Compliance Director overseeing numerous grants. I arrive with my supervisor to the grant award announcements and there is Mr Bell. I insist if I didn’t know any better, Mr Bell was checking up on me every few years to make sure I was on the right life path.

At the conclusion of the meeting, before I even had a chance to get up and re-introduce myself he came over with a smile and introduced himself to my supervisor and exchanged greetings with me. We found out that we now became community partners in operating the 21st Century Community Learning Center program at Coconut Creek High School. With my experience in operating YMCA programs and his experience with education and the School Board we were embarking on a journey together. Over three years, we served hundreds of high school youth in a program which combined components of academic enrichment, tutoring, team sports and health and wellness with the ultimate goal of improving the lives of those we touch.

During this time, I first hand witnessed how Mr Bell through the years still had the tough love with his students but experienced the great leadership he provided faculty and staff at his high school and extended it on to me.

There you have it, as I finish my song, “Can you tell which thing is not like the others?” Well, I am more than certain I am not like all you others, because I’ve come through the circle of life with Mr Bell and experienced him as a student, his son’s child care provider and partner in education.

I found myself to be blessed with Mr Bell coming into my life and can stand proud knowing he has seen me grow from the lost freshman in high school who despised going to an Algebra I class. Where am I now you may ask? Well, I will be celebrating thirty years at the YMCA this July 2014. Yes, I still truly hate math of all sorts – but with tools such as Microsoft Excel and a calculator I am now responsible for over fifteen million dollars and hoping I too can blessed by helping a youth find the path to life.

Thank you Mr Bell and Godspeed and blessings you as you start your new journey!

Epilogue - Initially, this was written as my part of my speech at Mr Bell’s retirement party on February 21, 2014, but my desire to speak from the heart became stronger the theme of the circle of life and the memories shared were much the same but was condensed from the original context.

THOUGHTS OF A PASSING

Don't cry, for the pain is gone,
Don't fear, for we'll meet again.
Cherish all the memories,
Embrace today as a gift.

Smile more, show how you cared,
Laugh often, to live freely,
Release your inner spirit,
Embrace your tears, not your fears.

The friendship is not done,
Just beginning on again,
With all of yesterday's ease,
Seeing past time as a gift.

In loving memory to those I worked with who have entered their eternal journey.

 

NOT EXACTLY TWO JUGS OF MILK

It was one of the most typical hot, humid pre-summer days in South Florida and I volunteered willingly to take a group as we did a field trip to Miami MetroZoo. Sitting on a school bus for over an hour with no air conditioning and fifty plus screaming and excited children was just a day in the life of a Fun Day counselor (non school day programs). For this exciting day, I had approximately 100 children attending this field trip split between two busses. The day was bound to be of learned lessons for both my campers and staff. The only common element shared was both buses left precisely at the same time to go to Miami MetroZoo, afterward it was anything but predictable and similar. Upon arrival, my staff disembarked the bus and impatiently waited until everyone was accounted for by name and count.

The two buses yielded two distinct populations of children. The first bus filled with affluent campers coming to camp in clothes not to get dirty or ruined in the course of day’s activities, with more brand names on them then a Macy’s fashion catalog – Camp Macy. The second bus filled with campers who in all likelihood never traveled more than a couple miles outside of their deprived and depressed neighborhoods – Camp YMCA.

After exiting the bus, we broke the two buses worth of campers into grade level specific groups. I’ve always been up to being challenged and being the director, I had first rights to selecting the grade I enjoy most – first graders! All groups had a well mix of Camp Macy and Camp YMCA participants. By majority vote, (with the help of their fearless leader) we decided to start working the animal exhibits counter-clockwise. From my campers imitating a monkey’s yell to making animated facial expressions at the smell of each animal, every exhibit was an adventure.

As we arrived to the elephant exhibit, I noticed one of MetroZoo’s finest was finishing up storytelling with another group of campers. I, personally was excited to have the possibility of this larger than life (figuratively and really) zoo official to share his passion and excitement of the exhibit with my group of children. Our group gathered around to listen to the story of elephants and their lives, Corey, with Camp YMCA, had more questions of our storyteller than all the others combined. As he asked question after question, he clung on to me as if I were to let go of him he’d fall down a hole and never to resurface.

Over the years, it no longer matters to me the questions he asked, but the fact he was by far more intelligent than his years and the elephants peaked his curiosity. Our speaker was gracious and enthusiastically answered all of Corey’s questions. One of the moments of engraved in my memory is of when our storyteller was stating how elephants in this exhibit drinks three to five gallons of water per each sitting and eats up to 500 pounds of food a day. As Corey realized immediately what goes in must come out. Answering Corey’s question, an elephant excretes the same in urine and about half of what they eat in waste. Corey clung on to me and clenched my hand tightly as he excitedly reported, “Mr. Robert that elephant drinks more when he drinks than when me and my mama buy in milk at Winn-Dixie.” Corey was able to decipher the elephant drinks more than what his Mom buys and was able to tell me each elephant drinks more than the “not exactly two jugs of milk” that him and his family go through each week. He continued to comment excitedly about what he had learned while my attention focused on the group.

While focusing on the needs of the group, I asked if anyone needed to get water or go to the restrooms. Collectively, some had to go and some had to drink water but I heard the underlying conversations amongst the group. Camp Macy was bored, tired of the walking in the heat, wanting to ride the monorail and visit the gift shop to get into the air conditioning. Camp YMCA was talking of the favorite exhibits (we’ve only seen two or three so far – before the elephants) and dismissing each other’s comments on what we will see next. When taking a vote to see what we do – the separation between the two camps was evident with each of them arguing their case against their judge – me.

Neither, choice I was going to make was going to be popular with one of the camps, but what I learned was invaluable. Children, young and naïve as they are, still bring their luggage of life’s experience with them and are just slightly more open in sharing what’s in it than we do as adults. Until this day, I don’t think I ever experienced those very affluent and those very poor. I was brought up in a blue-collar middle class family that didn’t have always the latest and greatest of anything, but I also didn’t lack in anything and had everything for the foundations of a happy childhood with two loving parents, great memories and was brought up with old-fashioned values.

The urgency of this generation grow-up fast with an apparent leap-frogging over old-fashioned values of a generation past is more important. Corey’s enthusiasm to learn and ability to ask questions, had reminded me, children regardless of their backgrounds or camps are continuously seeking approval of that one caring adult (more would be better) to help foster and encourage their growth towards becoming productive, self-less, charitable members our society.

For the first time in my career, I noticed how both my Camp Macy and Camp YMCA children were speeding through their childhoods. The demands put on them by adults in their lives sacrifices what I treasured most in my childhood, the ability to be a child as long as possible.


After all, it takes a lot of s-l-o-w to to grow-up…and each child, is “not exactly two jugs of milk” in how they are brought up and we as adults need to be reminded of this, and often, at that.

 

PLEASE DON'T LET MR ROBERT SING

It has been 10 years, maybe 15 years or possibly more since I worked at my last summer camp. Years working at the YMCA often blend together as another season of summer camp came to a close this year. Summer camp is one of those legacy programs YMCAs run throughout the country and as a staff member you really love it or really love to hate it. Fortunately for me, summer camp was what I worked up for all year and couldn’t wait for the fun to begin.

I would stock up a few extras every month throughout the year and put aside for my camp. My after-school employees would often beg me to allow them first run of new game, new toy or new activity before summer camp began in middle of June. I never gave in to all the begging, pleading and sad eyes as these were truly special stuff exclusively reserved for my summer camp. From slip and slides in the heat of summer to outdoor sized board games and parachute games, it was a truly something to get excited for! My summer camps always ran everywhere but traditional YMCA facilities … from regional parks and city community centers to corporate headquarters for large companies and hospitals, I’ve managed to successfully operate in various environments and let the magic of summer camp happen.

Throughout my years, I always managed to hire people who helped bring this magical something to summer camp and elevate it to that next level. For this reason, I would hire this magician or “specialty expert” to provide those activities I was never able to do on my own. Whether it was someone who would do team sports of flag football and basketball or the one who was able to expose campers to the wonders of song and music. My staff new better than to allow Mr. Robert to ever lead a group in “I said a Boom-Chica Boom…” Though the campers appeared to just take joy of me singing with them, the staff were clearly embarrassed by me in making a fool of myself. Staff went as far as putting in to our staff manual, “Please – Please – Please don’t ever let Mr. Robert lead your group in song” – especially on a hot, Florida summer, school bus ride to anywhere!

Reflecting back in all the staff who worked with me, I always found ways to find focus on the magical strengths in my team and use it as building blocks to help fulfill their own aspirations and ultimately move on to bigger and better positions within the YMCA movement or help them find themselves in life. I tried to minimize much of their weaknesses and help build them up to become better rounded – however, for my own singing this didn’t help.

The memories of my time operating summer camp are not merely nostalgic but are reminisced with fondness of the magic each team member brought to share each and every day. It didn't take much more to be reminded of the importance of believing in the magic that occurs when the right performers are able to dance to the song despite how awful their lead vocalist is. It all comes down to serving with passion and performing your best with love in all that you do.

I close, in song, singing to you in the best possible tone-deaf voice I can and “I said a Boom-Chica Boom…”