There is a specific piece of my soul reserved for Camp Pecometh. It’s that way for almost everyone I know that’s been a camper or staffer there during its 65 years of existence. For me—a camper from age 8 to 16, a junior counselor at 17, and then a staffer at 18 and 19—there’s no doubt that Pecometh had a huge role in shaping the person I am today. It shows up in the subtlest ways: a shameless love of songs sung in round; a fierce determination at killing bugs of any kind; a quiet strength from something greater than me.  The months spent there were some of the most carefree of my life, and despite a fierce love for the beach town I grew up in, to this day I can’t think of a better way to spend the summer than beating a path from a tiny cabin on girls’ hill to the dining hall, the ropes course, the pool, canteen, waterfront and back again. The happy mischief and newfound freedom of a group of teenagers and twenty-somethings living and working and playing together, all at the same time, with wide open spaces and time to kill, creates a kind of spontaneous, anything-goes environment that little else can match. You have a schedule every day and the toughest thing on it is carrying the canoes to the river and planning how to sneak out after curfew. Sure it’s hot, and it’s buggy, and between the river and the dusty fields and the practically outdoor showers you never seem to really get clean. But the annoyances and pleasures alike are so refreshingly simple that no matter if you’re there for an hour or a whole summer, you never want to leave. It is, quite simply, my favorite place on earth. xo

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