Valediction: Of Affirmation

August 26, 2018
Sarah Newell and a camper this summer taught me my biggest lesson: verbal affirmation is hugely successful with me. In that spirit, and in light of a few minor crisis this week, I'm sending you some good vibes.


Short version: I love you and support you. I'm praying for you and your loved ones.


Long version: I hope the new pieces of your life fall into step with the old ones. I hope they illuminate your past and brighten your future. As life gets busier and people get further apart and demands grow weightier, I hope you find solace in your roots—your church your communities your nature your family your mindfulness, whatever. 

I'm praying for your wishes, but also for your fears. I'm praying that God will lead you into lights that seem blinding and biting and out of darknesses that glowed like neon dens and begged you to stay.

I want you to know I will always have your back. I will have time for you, even if that time is only spent in breaths or hollow conversation. I hope you offer me forgiveness when I don't text you back or ignore you for my thesis deadline. I love you and cannot imagine my life without you.



My recommendation this week is to take some time to think about what you have done so far and appreciate how much others have aided you. Reread a book you love (Stranger the Dreamer is the one that I'm going to sink my teeth back into). Rewatch a childhood movie. Exist in the sentimental mush that I am in right now.
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Day 39: Reports of Ceasefire and Singing

August 18, 2018
A couple things. One, the second to last day of camp is way better than the last day of camp. Two, I didn't know a good concert could stick in your mind for so long. I’ve been stewing on this one for a week and my mind is a little all over the place, so I’m going to try splitting this into parts.

Part I - The Sinclair

Remember how I was all nervous and excited about going to the concert? Well, I made it there and back. And it was phenomenal. I think a part of the reason that it was so good was because I went in with low expectations. I saw Daughter, who is arguably my favorite band, in concert my freshman year of college. Their music was fantastic, but they weren't entertainers. Lydia was. Another piece was because I went alone to a new place with a bunch of people who don't know me at all. On one hand, I missed Calvin's appreciative spirit of everyone who was performing. The Student Activities Office talks a big game about teaching Calvin students to be a good audience, but they are actually right. Only a few people were dancing and cheering during the openers. On the other hand, I loved that I was only connected to these people by a shared love of music (even that was a little shaky—more on that later). I could move my hips and lift my arms in my half-hearted raise-the-roof gesture with no worries. Plus it was kind of fun to be asked if I was going to be drinking at the concert and get a neon green bracelet declaring my eligibility.

I saw some fun people there. A lot of couples, mostly in their twenties or thirties. There was a mom with her baby, who was wearing massive headphones to protect their ears. The most entertaining group was a cluster of 6 high school women in the front who seemed to know each other in some way. I was unclear if two groups of 3 met each other at the show or if they were internet friends or if they were all actually together. Any way you cut it, they were very excited for Cherry Pools, the second opener. There was another woman who was kind of back a bit who I only realized was a mom when she tapped her daughter on the shoulder and asked if her daughter wanted a picture with the lead singer who was chilling on the wings.

They were classic high schoolers. They ran over to hover near the lead singer (who was only about 10 feet away from where they were standing originally—it was a pretty small venue) only to run back, bumping me in the process, and scream his name over and over. Waving her apology off was one of the two times that I talked while in the venue; I guess you could call this night a solitary adventure. Once the music started, they yelled things like “I like your glasses” “Do you have a belly button?” at the leads and responded “You're welcome” every time a lead said thank you after a song. At first, I was annoyed by them. Why couldn't they just be cool? Why can't they just enjoy the music and not yell cringey things at singers that are just doing their job?

I then had a moment where I remembered how teenage girls are ridiculed no matter what they like. Their interests are often thought of as vapid and passing, especially when it comes to music. But these women, they were owning it and drinking in every second of their favorite band. How was their yelling and screaming and singing and dancing different from my own? They were gone by the time Lydia came on, and I definitely think I would have been pissed at them during Lydia’s set if they were still yelling, but they did help make this experience.

Part II - The Actual Concert

The openers were good. I hadn't listened to Funeral Advantage that much and I enjoyed what I heard, but I really jammed with some of Cherry Pool’s singles. Lydia, though, was worth all the hassle of driving to Arlington and taking the bus and staying up late. The lead singer was less awkward than I thought he would be, and the pianist was hilarious. After the third song, he pointed and grinned at me since I was in the second row and clearly knew the words. They all performed barefoot, which was an interesting choice, and had clips of random people and old TV projected on their backdrop. The lead singer usually does the harmonies on the tracks, but live the pianist and guitarist do them, and they sing them loud.

They performed songs from all of their albums, including the one that I didn't know existed (This December something-something-something). I was the opposite of most of the crowd in that I knew all the words of the newer songs but not the older ones. Leighton, the lead singer, turned the mic around during the Illuminate songs, which was probably their most successful album. I knew “Hospital” but not “This is Twice Now” and “A Fine Evening for a Rouge” so I was a little lost during those mic turns. I felt a little weird knowing all their new stuff, but hey, when they played my favorite song off of their new album you best believe I was singing along.

I've always judged people for taking videos of a concert while they are there, because who looks back at an hour of concert songs when the polished track is only 5 clicks away. But for the last week, I've been scrolling through Instagram and watching Lydia’s live videos of their concerts when I wake up in the morning. Other people's recordings have allowed me to step back into the night and trigger the details I've already forgotten, like the setlist and how Leighton dances without a guitar in his hand and the harmonies Leighton sang on “Goodside” so he didn't have to hit the high note every dang time and how much Matthew Reyes the pianist swears when he's praising the crowd. I always thought Kishi Bashi would be the best concert I ever saw, but watching my high school soundtrack come to life close enough to touch is difficult to top.

Honestly, I'm not even sure why I was so moved by this concert. Their music was good, but they as performers felt genuine and warm. I felt like I knew them, which in a way I guess I do. All I know for sure is that if I am in Michigan the next time Lydia is headlining a tour, I'm more than willing to drive 3 hours to see another show.

Part III - Sayonara, Meadow Breeze

It’s always weird when you have new campers on the last week because everyone is getting so nostalgic and cherishing even the semi-annoying campers. The new kids just feel out of place, and you don’t feel like investing in them because you’re counting down the days on your fingers and you just want to hang out with the campers you know and love. It’s also weird when you have to discipline kids on the last few days. You think that since you are so close to being done the kids will pick up on it and cherish the moments they have left with you too. Instead, you end up sitting out a kid for half of swim time and all of dodgeball because she won’t stop climbing bathroom stalls and acting out.

The surrealist part of ending camp was the goodbyes. Throughout the week, I would remember during an activity that this was the last week and think, “Gosh, I’m going to miss these kids’ little personalities and the weird things they say.” The numbers started to drop, and day by day kids would have their last days and I would come to camp the next morning and say, “What? _____ isn’t coming back today?!” Then Friday comes along, and I thought I would spend the whole day being sappy but that only happened when I was checking campers into Extended Day and I tried to cajole a Badger into saying goodbye to me. He hung out with me the whole time I was checking the rest of the Badgers in, so maybe that was a partial win.

It hasn’t been a perfect summer. There have been some interesting choices from the high ups, some people who I've got annoyed with, and some duties that I really didn’t look forward to. But when a parent of a camper I had last year comes up and thanks me for my work and a lot of my campers say things like, “I’ll see you next year!”, I know that there’s something going right.


Games - Solitaire and Spit
I’m OBSESSED with playing Solitaire, and I’ve even started playing Spit with Sarah Newell, who consistently hands my butt to me. I know I talked about these last week, but I really can’t stop playing. Just play a game or two in person or via an app (or a Google search) while you’re watching Bachelor in Paradise or another equally trashy TV show and you’ll be hooked.


Music - “Hollywood” - Cherry Pools | “I Can Hear Your Laughter On The Wind” - The Lulls in Traffic
“Hollywood” is my favorite track from Cherry Pools. It’s such a summer listen—pop-y and catchy and vaguely dissing rich people. I created a smaller playlist on Spotify just so it could pop up on shuffle when I’m driving places.

Today I suffered through a lot of honors thesis data crises. In my brain breaks, I found myself surfing Spotify recommendations and found out that Aaron Marsh of Copeland was a part of a new collaboration called The Lulls in Traffic. I queued “I Can Hear Your Laughter On The Wind” and had to listen to the whole album (Rabbit in the Snare). The rest of the album isn’t worth your time, but this one is. It’s melancholic like Copeland’s Ixora but with a driving drum beat and hints of electronic manipulations scattered throughout. I'm also a sucker for a good piano line, and it's got a haunting one.
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Sorry, Alex Johnson

August 11, 2018
I’ve been dreading writing this entry because I feel like I’ve said all that I’ve been thinking about for the past couple weeks. Not doing the things that I should be doing and just reading a bunch of books? Covered it. Enjoying working my job despite some of the leadership and some kids that have some issues? Beaten that horse. Feeling existential about going back to college soon and how time is going fast? For sure.


A couple years ago, I realized that it was hard for me to be someone who consistently went deep in every single conversation. I dated this guy from my senior year of high school through my freshman year of college, which was a rocky time in my life regardless of his involvement. In the beginning, he would ask me all these philosophical questions and we had some long talks, but as the relationship progressed he ran out of questions and I didn’t really want to spend my time navel-gazing. I would try to get him to talk about his day and what happened to him, but that didn’t seem important to him to convey to me. We would just twiddle our thumbs and wait until tomorrow to do the same dance over again.


I feel like this is what has happened with my writing here. I set out to just tell stories from my day to day, but I put this pressure on myself to write these deep philosophical musings about time and life and the whole she-bang. I do think about these things and it’s nice to get them out in the open, but these thoughts aren’t particularly groundbreaking. They also feel kind of didactic in a way, which is something I hate in a story.

So with that in mind, I’m just going to talk about some of the things that happened to me this week and something that I’m particularly excited about.


We’ve been doing these Kidz Bop Dance Along videos, and the “How Long” became a favorite in the first week. My head counselor then came up with the idea that the Gazelles could do this dance for the whole camp on the last day. But then we found out on Wednesday that Thursday was the last day for one of our campers who absolutely loves doing this dance. We performed it for my boss, who okay-ed it, and the next day got up in front of 250 other children and counselors and danced it out. I was so proud of them that my heart almost burst when the older kids gave my campers a standing ovation. Plus, who doesn’t love 5 and 6-year-olds doing a choreographed dance that they aren’t coordinated enough to do?


A Bobcat (4th and 5th grade boy) beat me in Spit twice this week. I got a little competitive. We discovered another deck of cards in extended day (and I brought in another deck), so in addition to the kids playing war with cards the size of a mega piece of paper, we’ve started playing Trash, Spit, Egyptian Rat Screw, and Clockwork Solitaire (I have yet to find the time and patience to teach them Euchre). Sarah and I one day mostly ignored the kids while she taught me how to play Solitaire, which I never bothered to learn because Lars played that game and I didn’t trust any game that Lars played, and then trounced me at Spit. Summer camp keeps bringing back my own childhood: first friendship bracelets, now card games.


Two of my campers came up to me and said, “Lars asked us whether we liked Annika or you better, and we said we liked you both. We asked him who he liked better and he said Annika because she was a better drawer.” I found out from Lars that it was them who responded to him liking Annika better by saying, “Is it because she’s a better drawer?”


I’ve been listening to “Pray as You Go,” a daily podcast that features a variety of music and a reading of a Bible passage with reflection questions. It’s been a good way for me to make space for devotions in the morning (I listen to it while I shower, so it’s not as devout as you’re imagining), and the readings keep me engaged. Two weeks ago it read Matthew 13:10-17, where Jesus tells the disciples why he speaks in stories directly after telling the parable of the sower. I had some philosophical thoughts about how this can be taken in a positive light—that Jesus uses stories to teach people since their ears are closed to the truth—but you can probably figure out where I was going with that. I’ve also heard some pretty harsh passages, like Matthew 15:21-28 where Jesus rebukes this Canaanite woman twice before healing her daughter. It seemed so cold and unfeeling for Jesus, and even when I tried to suss out what he was teaching (that he was coming for the Gentiles also, that he respected a woman in Biblical times) it didn’t seem to add up. I’m still struggling with it, to be honest.


Tonight I’m going to see one of my top two favorite bands, Lydia. I talked about their new album a couple weeks ago in my recommendations. In a couple hours, I’m going to hop in my car, park in Arlington, and take the bus into Harvard Square to go to a concert by myself. I’m a little nervous, but I’m so excited. The opener is fantastic, and the pictures I’ve seen on Instagram look so cool. Plus, I’m just going to be around people who know when I say Lydia I’m talking about a band, not a person.


August really is the Sunday night of months. School is coming, and my thesis is looming. Check in with me next week and see how I'm feeling about being done with Meadow Breeze for the summer.


YouTube - Chasing the Dream: How to Build an Outdoor Shower
Around two years ago, I was with Lars in my dorm room having our Sunday Family Skype when my mom told me that my aunt was thinking about a new business adventure that involved buying a big old farmhouse. I rolled my eyes (because Auntie Ruth has a lot of ideas but has some struggles with follow through) and thought little of it until I heard a couple months later that she and Uncle Tom bought the house. She has chronicled all the work she and Tom have done turning that house into Quinnbrook Farm in the past year and a half on her Instagram page (@anneclay1 and #quinnbrookfarm). Lately she’s been recording the projects they do on her YouTube page, and I gotta say they are really classic Huizenga antics. It’s a little bit of HGTV with some family banter and misadventures. If you want to know what it’s like to be in my living room when all the Vander Klays (my mom’s side) are together, watch this video.

the post calvin - “I Know All About You” by Jules Ludema
In the interest of full disclosure, I worked with Jules in the Rhetoric Center, she’s a good friend of mine, and I looked over this piece for her. You shouldn't read it just because of that but because it reflects a lot on something that I haven’t felt yet—what it means to know a place and how that feels (and how it is kind of an illusion)—in a way that shines a different light on the city I’ve grown to call one of my many second homes. Honestly, everything on the post calvin is worth your time; Meg Schmidt basically summed up this entire blog post much more elegantly in her latest post “Sorry, Mary Oliver”.
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