Category: Campfire Conversation

Beauty in the Cracks

April 3rd, 2026

Spring has certainly sprung here at the winter office in Georgia. (Our friends at Augusta will be very happy – right on cue for their little party next week.)

The azaleas are blooming. Our dogwoods have announced their presence and the redbuds are singing. It’s the latter flowering tree that has me thinking today about beauty in the cracks.

We have two, big redbud trees in our backyard, planted before we got here in 2005. The top of one of the trees broke nearly off in the winter. I looked at it for weeks, thinking of way to safely remove the large, hanging branch, too high for me to reach with a ladder or climbing.

I got busy and forgot about it. Until last week. As the plants began to pop their Spring colors, I looked up and noticed something incredible:

That big branch that was barely hanging on had flowered up just as beautifully as the rest of the tree.

Kintsugi

There is a tradition of art in Japan called ‘kintsugi.’ It describes a process of rebuilding a broken bowl, cup or pot using gold, silver or some other precious metal to bind the pieces back together. In doing so, the function returns and the vessel itself is even more beautiful than before.

Its beauty comes from the cracks. Broken things can still flower.

There was a push in the ‘90s and early ‘00s to raise children to think they are perfect. As a society, we were so concerned about our young people’s self-esteem, how they held themselves. Turns out, this well-meaning approach to parenting led to those who had a hard time dealing with the cracks which life created in them.

Full disclosure – you aren’t perfect. (Goodness knows I’m not either.) You are going to make a lot of mistakes over the course of your life. All will leave a mark – some more than others. Sometimes, you’ll get nicked. Sometimes, you may feel broken. But….

Beauty comes from the cracks. Broken things can still flower. As long as you have something else. Read on.

Binding with Beauty

I vividly remember the days of braces, acne and my fumbling attempts at relationships. It’s a tough combination that comes seemingly at the worst possible time: late middle school and early high school. The combo and timing just about floored me.

Yet, I had a life-line in Mike Selleck. Mike was our youth leader growing up. From 7th grade onward, he showed our group that it didn’t matter what we looked like, the grades we made, the failures (or successes) on the sports fields or recital halls or budding relationships.

We were loved and accepted, completely and unconditionally. And we enjoyed this incredible mix of fun and actual thinking that he and his team orchestrated every Sunday evening for years.

From this incredible combination, we flowered. We thrived. We had a refuge, a place where we could go each week to get re-filled in the best possible way.

He provided that which we all need – acceptance and love, fun and growth – to give us the space and tools needed to bind up our nicks and our fears and our broken pieces.

Many of us remain connected. I had lunch with Mike a month ago. Certainly, a lot has changed in the group of 23 of us from graduation until now. But all remember the beautiful binding that Mike helped create in us.

Beauty comes from the cracks. Broken things can still flower.

Beauty at Camp

Am I waxing poetic? Maybe… yeah. With Passover and Easter, both of the ‘worlds’ in which I live are experiencing a meaningful week. It’s got me in the mood.

Kiddos – you are going to make mistakes. A lot of them. At home, after school, at camp. All the places. So will your friends. So will your parents. So will I.

What matters is what we learn, how we bind ourselves up and how we move forward.

The good news? You can have help in all three of those next steps. In fact, I would argue that having the help is what creates he beauty.

At Weequahic this summer, the camp counselors can’t wait to help, to demonstrate it themselves and support you (and each other.) We are going to provide a space that is crazy fun and, at the right times, thoughtful and meaningful. And, you are going to have a lot of support at as you move forward.

You are going to do great. I know it. How? Because I know…

Beauty comes from the cracks. Broken things can still flower.

Little Moments, Big Life

March 27th, 2026

We all want the Super Bowl, to be an influencer or the best gamer. We set our sights very high –multi-millionaire, straight-A-student, someone who is going to change the world.

It’s natural for us humans to strive, to reach for things higher than our current situation in life. I did when I was your age. Still do… just for (very) different things.

(I don’t believe many middle and high schoolers are praying for a safe summer and for their children to become good men. If you are… well, we should talk.)

Having goals are good. Something to aim at is important. We all should strive to become better versions of ourselves each and every day.

Here are two questions: at what are you striving? And, what are you missing in the process?

The Little Moments…

This morning, I put a new razor blade on my razor. (Again… you’ll get there.) The difference was enormous – no discomfort. Just smooth sailing and a much better shaving experience.

For some reason, I stopped and thought ‘Man – that was great’ and smiled.

Then I thought… why don’t I think that more often about a lot of things? And, for the next hour or two, I did.

A long part of the road from our house to the airport was super smooth. The fact that I could listen to a podcast out of my phone struck me as close to magic. The gentleman driving our parking shuttle at the airport was kind and thoughtful, especially towards Kate. A baby being held in front of me in the TSA line gave me the biggest smile you’ve ever seen….

Now… how many times have I missed these little moments? How many times have I been so busy with other things on my mind or rushing to the next ‘goal completion’ or just not present enough to recognize and enjoy them.

Millions of times. And we all do it. Head phones in. Head in the calendar. Eyes on the screen…. Hm.

But it’s the recognition of these little things that lead to a…

Big Life

My grandmothers grew up with pretty much nothing in a material sense. While they lived within a few hours of the ocean, they didn’t see it until late in life. They raised their own food, sewed their clothing. The Great Depression was on… and they didn’t even realize it.

When I asked Munner what she thought was the greatest invention in her lifetime – refrigeration, vaccines, rockets, tv, etc. – she answered immediately: air-conditioning. Growing up without in the Deep South sets a different perspective.

But yet they had big lives.

Big families. Sunday dinners at which both friends and families sat together. Card games that would go on for hours, punctuated with laughter, jeers and more. They had deep faiths, strong bonds with their neighbors, and were concerned about their community.

They didn’t ‘finish’ rich in terms of money or accolades. But, they were deeply loved and gave that love unselfishly and unreservedly to those around them.

Near the end of their time with us, I got to hold Ginny’s hand during a hard moment at Two Lights. Munner invited me for a glass of sweet tea and a pimento cheese sandwich on a Tuesday.

I’m happy to have those memories. They are more than worth the two hours in the car, missing a round of golf, playing a video game or whatever else I was doing as a young man.

A Mother’s Advice

I was reminded recently of a quote I love:

“If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.” – Mother Teresa of Calcutta

With all the marvels of today, it’s easy for us to strive for bigger and ‘better’ things. However, it’s actually more important to do and appreciate the little things.

Loving on your (sometimes annoying) little or big sibling. Cleaning up the table for your parents who’ve dealt with today more than you can realize right now. Rubbing your partner’s feet. Caring for the pet. Calling your grand parent out of the blue, just to say ‘hello.’

These things… these little moments are those that will change the world.

How? The same way the oceans were formed…. One drop at a time.

Have a good weekend. Can’t wait to see you at camp.

PS – How does this relate to camp? Well… just about every moment at camp is a little one. And, without the distraction of school, after school activities, your phone, your games, etc… you just get to be where you are.

At camp, we can truly be present. And enjoy that for what it is: A gift!

Lessons from Claire

March 20th, 2026

Parents, the words below are my lessons from a camper who has recently passed. I wrote it in a way that I hope will be helpful and thoughtful of our camp family. Please review it before deciding to share with your child. This one may be more for me than anyone else.

Kate and I ‘received the torch’ from the Seffer and Lustig families in 2009. They had built Weequahic from the ground up starting in 1953.

We dug in and started building on the wonderful foundation and traditions (Tribals, Olympics and more) the Seffer and Lustig families created while instituting some of our own (Campfire by Sly Lake, GAC, Swim the Lake and more.)

No matter what, though, no matter who is running camp or how long the sessions or what names of the color war teams are – it’s all about the kids and staff.

The people are what make camp – then, now and forever.

Claire

I first met Claire in her home outside of Philadelphia. Then, as now, we met with every family prior to camp. I remember her being quiet and interested with a twinkle in her eye.

When she told me soccer was one of her favorites, she leaned in and her face got serious and excited. I could tell this young lady was a competitor. Creating a life with Director Kate and spending so much time with Associate Director Sue, I know the type well.

Claire started with three weeks – the Tribal session. After two summers, she was one of the first to switch to ‘Olympic’ session. A few of her friends had moved to Super Six and she had another commitment early in the summer.

This was the first of the lessons from Claire – the courage to be flexible. We had always hoped a camper would change things around in order to make both their busy summer lives and camp work… but we didn’t think it would happen. And for a 14-year-old girl to do it?

Claire knew what she wanted and she just did it.

Saying No

The second lesson happened either that or the next summer. I’m hazy on the timing but not on the lesson.

True to form, this young lady was a fierce competitor at Weequahic. Always first to join a team, compete with other camps or within Weequahic. She wanted to move, to exert herself all the time.

Prior to arriving back at camp late in her time with us, her mother called to talk about her concussions. Claire had dealt with a lot of them. Her mother was (rightfully) concerned and wanted to know how they’d affect her at camp, especially with her athletics.

Now, we were always scratching and clawing to grow camp. At the time, I was definitely a ‘yes’ person, at least to the parents and the kids.

I didn’t want to say ‘no’ to anyone and I didn’t want to upset anyone at any time. So, we accepted her back within some strict guidelines. Claire was on board… kind of.

That summer, I had to say ‘no’ to a lot of her questions. When she came up teary to me, pleading to play and compete, I had to say ‘no’ for her safety. When she enlisted her counselors – who loved the girl – I had to say the same thing.

It’s hard to see anyone who wants to compete and play so badly and tell them ‘no.’ Especially when you want them back as a CIT. But ‘no’ it was, and it was the correct call.

Sometimes (a lot of times, actually) ‘no’ is hard… and correct.

Friendships Across the Bunks

I’ll be honest – I was pretty old-school when we started at Weequahic. When girls used to tell me some of their best friends are boys or guys tell me, ‘We are just friends’, I didn’t really believe them. I’ve read enough about evolutionary biology to be dangerous… and a little cynical of those answers.

Claire taught me differently, especially with her friendship with Budow. They were tight. They were buddies. They loved each other in a way that true friends do, with trust, care and vulnerability.

Their special friendship opened my eyes to see so many others of these friendships at camp between our campers. Funnily enough, when I asked a CIT last summer about what camp had taught them, she answered ‘Guys and girls can really be just friends. I love that about this place.’

Me, too. We humans need connection and care. Claire and Budow represented the best of this.

Final Lesson

When Claire graduated as a CIT, cried her last tears in the Rec Hall and departed camp, I lost touch with her. A wonderful camper, someone who stood out amongst the pack, and… well, I turned my focus to the campers in front of me rather than those in my past.

This was and is a mistake. And one I intend to rectify.

Had we stayed in touch, I would have known about her matriculation to a great university. I would have known about her work within healthcare, her continued connection with Budow, how her faith and connection to Judaism continued to flourish. That she had been sick and that the complications were growing.

Time is doing what it does… moving forward. We will all have hard moments like these in a well-lived life. Sad? At times, of course. And full of beauty and laughter, lessons and love. If we only see the bad or challenging, we aren’t really looking.

We are going to miss Claire. She was a bright light in the world and one who taught me many things. Thank you, Claire. We are better for having known you.