Here is beautiful Cherokee Cove, on Georgia's
Lake Burton. For some 75 summers Camp
Cherokee gave some lucky boys an adventure
camp experience they would never forget.
As a counselor at Cherokee for four full summers
during college, then two more half summers, I know
it's impact on staff members was as great as on campers.
Jane Mac (McConnell) directed the camp for
more than three decades, following in the footsteps
of her mother, Mizmac, who founded the camp in 1924.
This friendship candle is a reminder
of the memories that bind legions of
former Cherokees together, even those
of us who have never met.
Happily, many of us will be meeting, and
soon. An informal reunion on the old camp
property will give us the opportunity to dredge
up some rousing tales of campouts, hikes,
cabin dramas, and mishaps. Especially the latter.
Personally, I know without a doubt
what an influence my years at Cherokee
had on my career choice of education,
my philosophy of life, and the way I look
at the world and people.
Here I am with one of my Swift Antelope
cabin groups, all dressed in Sunday whites.
Strange how Indian Day can transform
nice, neatly-dressed campers into grim,
war-ready savages (except my little brave
in back). Cherokee was another world.
It was there I learned my love of snakes,
hiked the Appalachian Trail for the first time,
slid on Sliding Rock, directed cabin plays,
played Sunday evening concerts, learned to
make a rock cooler in a mountain stream,
and learned the beauty of teamwork.
Jane Mac taught much to me by her words,
and even more by her example. That was a
powerful and positive example. Don Moore,
co-director since 1957who recruited me to
teach in Moore County,was a second great
influence in my young life.
Here's an informal gathering at New Year's
one winter long ago. At least one old friend
from that picture will be at the upcoming event.
In 1982 I returned to camp along with my
wife Judy, who served as camp nurse. Judy
was expecting the baby that turned out to be
Amanda. Jennifer was 2 going on 3. In this
picture, fearless Jennifer (ask what her middle
name is) accompanies me down icy Sliding Rock.
This is the special song "Remember" I'd
like to share with my old Cherokee friends.
Remember the times you've had here,
remember when you're away.
Remember the friends you've made here,
And don't forget to come back some day.
Remember the roaring waters,
the camp fires, too,
For you belong to Cherokee,
and Cherokee belongs to you.
I DO remember. And I always will.
3 comments:
Ken,
We know your brother and were both at Cherokee. my husband Harold was one of Uncle Don's boys from Southern Pines and I came along later as a craft counselor and kitchen staff. We missed you along the way. Thank you for the pictures and the Remember song - I had forgotten the words. Harold and Carole Williford
I remember you, Ken. It had to have been the early 70's, and you were the counsellor in charge of the Nature Shack. I remember you taught us about local plants (pipsissewa?) and critters. There was even a day trip outing to collect moss/lichens, maybe around an old, old cemetery. Good memories. Glad I found this blog post.
Ken, hello! I stumbled on your rememberance of Camp Cherokee and Jane McConnell in 2017 so many years after those good times. I was a Camp Counselor for two years during the summers of my Freshman and Sophomore years at Emory University in Atlanta in 1967 and '68. I remember it exactly as you describe and in the pictures. Jane McConnell and MizMac were were quiet towering figures in my development,leading on to later becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer as a teacher for three years in the Philippines. And after that becoming a Social Worker life long.
At Camp Cherokee I remember Wolf Cabin, early morning at dawn swims at the Cove, Indian Day, and leading popular Nature hikes through the woods. So good, so great, and so wonderful. Thank you for the memories.
Bill Gillaspie
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