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Campfire Tales | It’s Always Summer

November 4, 2025 
By Aaron Selkow, Owner/Director

A few weeks ago, I got a message from the parent of one of our Varsity campers from last summer. It was short and straightforward — just a note she thought I’d appreciate. Her daughter and a few of her friends at school had started a fundraiser for SCOPE. This organization helps make camp possible for kids who otherwise wouldn’t have the chance to go (our Varsity campers run SCOPE activities at camp as part of their leadership program). The teens had made posters, secured a table at their school’s Friday night event (where I happened to be as a coach for the same school’s girls’ soccer team), and were selling pizza to raise money. The mom wrote, “She wants me to tell you to come buy some pizza — she’s proud that the kids are so into SCOPE.” I stopped by. And sure enough, she was beaming. When she saw me, she shouted, “We’ve already raised $237!”

At that moment, I felt something that everyone who loves camp knows deep down: the best parts of summer don’t stay behind when the buses pull away. They follow us home.

A few days earlier, Sam Roberts — our Director of Staff & Camper Experience — told me about a conversation with one of our returning counselors. This staff member is back at college now, juggling classes and a part-time job. Some of his friends had been asking how he stays so calm under pressure — how he learned to lead and connect with people the way he does. He laughed and said, “Try being responsible for a cabin of ten eleven-year-olds for four weeks.” Then he paused and added, “I really do miss it — and I use it every day.”

These moments — a proud parent’s message, a counselor’s quiet reflection — are reminders of what I’ve been feeling since the summer ended. They’re proof that what we build together doesn’t fade when camp ends. It keeps showing up — in the choices, confidence, and compassion that our campers and staff carry into their everyday lives.

That’s what we mean when we say It’s Always Summer. It’s not about weather, or nostalgia, or pretending the season never ends. It’s about what lasts because of camp — the sense of belonging, purpose, and joy that sticks with us long after the last campfire.

For me, It’s Always Summer has become a promise — a reminder that our work as leaders, mentors, and friends continues year-round. When a Varsity camper raises money so that another child can go to camp… when a counselor uses what they learned at Chestnut Lake to lead with patience and heart… when a family tells us their child is still singing the alma mater at breakfast — those are the signs that the fire is still burning.

And if you look closely, you can see it everywhere. In the hoodie a camper wears to school. In the smile of a staff member walking into the Winter Reunion. In the plans, we’re already making for the summer of 2026. Because what happens at Chestnut Lake isn’t confined to a season. It starts here — but it belongs everywhere.

So as we look ahead, let’s carry that same warmth, the same belief in people, and the same spirit that fills our camp days. Because at Chestnut Lake — no matter the month, no matter the weather — It’s Always Summer.

Campfire Tales | One for the Books (8/16/25)

August 16, 2025 
By Aaron Selkow, Owner/Director

There’s a certain hum that fills camp in the final week — a sound that’s equal parts joy, exhaustion, and an unspoken understanding that these days are numbered. It’s the laughter that carries across the fields at dusk, the way voices in the dining hall hit a slightly higher pitch, and the quiet conversations between friends who know they’re about to be apart. It’s the sound of a summer’s worth of living, pressed into its final pages.

Over the past seven weeks, 654 campers have called Chestnut Lake home, and 246 staff members have poured themselves into making sure those campers had a summer they’ll carry forever. That’s thousands of moments spent connecting, millions of footsteps across camp, and more than a few well-timed reminders to “please put your sneakers on before going to tennis — Crocs are not good enough.”

We’ve come a long way since the start of Second Session. Back then, the new campers were figuring out the map of this place — not just where things were, but where they belonged in it. In those early days, I wrote about how campers grow; constantly grow — but watching it happen is still like magic every time. The kid who could barely meet my eyes when they stepped off the bus is now belting out the Alma Mater at the top of their lungs (especially the “I’m Chestnut ‘til I die…” part at the end). The first-time counselor who thought “leading a bunk” meant giving orders learned quickly that it’s about listening, laughing, and sometimes sitting quietly with a camper who just needs to be heard.

We had plenty of the headline events. Tribal returned with all its energy — a few days when camp split into Unami and Minsi, competed like their lives depended on it, and then hugged like nothing had ever been at stake. We had our helicopter landing, our massive fireworks, our banquets, our talent shows (some of which redefined the word “talent” in ways I’m still trying to process). These are the moments that make the photo albums and the highlight videos.

However, as I wrote in an earlier blog post, the important information is often found in the spaces between. In the quiet moment before a bunk takes the stage. The counselor who notices the homesick camper before anyone else. The smile that spreads across a camper’s face when they finally hit the target, make it to the top of the climbing wall, or just realize that they belong here.

There’s a saying in Michael Thompson’s Homesick and Happy: “Camp is not built on the big events, but on the thousands of small human exchanges that make children feel known, valued, and part of something larger than themselves.” I think about that when I remember:

  • The camper who was too nervous to get in the lake on day one but, by week two, was racing to the Wibit with friends.
  • The inside jokes born in bunks that make absolutely no sense to anyone outside them (and shouldn’t).
  • The counselor who stayed up late helping a camper write a letter home that expressed feelings they hadn’t yet been able to share (and the parent who called me, thrilled to have received it).
  • The look of relief and pride on a camper’s face when they nailed a skill they’d been working on all summer, finishing a beautiful ceramics project to bring home.

Writers have been trying to put the magic of camp into words for decades. In The Summer Camp Handbook, Jon Malinowski and my good friend Chris Thurber write: “Camp is a place where you can be your truest self — because everyone else is, too.” That’s been true here every day this summer. My colleague Steve Baskin once quoted a camper who told him, “In three weeks here, I got back so much of the confidence I’d lost.” I’ve seen that in our campers this summer — the return of confidence, the discovery of independence, the joy of finding a place where they are free to be fully themselves. And Lenore Skenazy, in an article for Let Grow, said it plainly: “Camp works because it gives kids a community, a purpose, and the space to try.” This summer, our kids tried everything — from the high ropes to waterskiing to making up an original dance or song in front of hundreds of people. And whether they succeeded or not, they were braver for trying.

In the years to come, we’ll remember the big events. But what will stay with us — the thing that makes this summer unforgettable — will be the people. The 800 individuals who trusted us with their summer, and the friendships that will outlast the tan lines sure to fade as everyone leaves through the Main Gate soon.

As we pack the duffels and watch the buses pull away, I’m reminded of what Anne Lamott once wrote: “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.” Ann and I feel it’s our mission — joined by an exceptional team of professionals and seasonal leaders — to be that lighthouse, standing firmly on a foundation of commitment to excellence and integrity, ensuring that every child and adult who arrives and departs knows how to find their way with our never-ending light. This summer, Chestnut Lake shone.

Soon, everyone will be home. The days will be quieter. Laundry will get done (eventually). And then, after the grass at camp has regained its green luster following a summer full of fun, someone will text a bunkmate a random emoji, and the whole summer will come rushing back. Because Chestnut Lake isn’t just a place. It’s a feeling. It’s a community. Likewise, it’s proof that under the open sky, surrounded by friends, we grow. And those moments of growth will be etched into our minds and souls forever.

So thank you — campers, staff, parents — for making this summer one for the books. Now, go home, tell your stories, and start counting down the days to next summer.

Campfire Tales | Real Leadership (8/8/25)

August 8, 2025 
By Aaron Selkow, Owner/Director

We’re six weeks into camp, and at this point in the summer, I’ve seen enough to be reminded that leadership here doesn’t always look like a keynote speech or a flawless plan. Sometimes it looks like a Mato camper sprinting toward the end zone, clutching the football like a hot potato as he realizes he’s about to score for the first time. Or a Wakanda camper showing plate discipline, drawing a walk to score a run in a big inter-camp game. Or even a Varsity camper putting their arm around a friend and quietly helping them through a tough moment in the middle of an up-and-down day.

We are two-thirds of the way through this session — and six-sevenths of the way through the summer — and what’s been built here is more than schedules, programs, or Tribal points. We’ve built leaders. Some of them are 9 years old, some are 19, and some are staff members who didn’t even realize they had it in them until now.

When I wrote an article for Camping Magazine a few years ago, I admitted that my camp-director “skills” were, well, eclectic:

  • I can spin a basketball on my finger.
  • I can referee seven different sports, design a T-shirt, format a newsletter, drive a 26-foot box truck, and properly stern a canoe.
  • I can mount a framed photo without a ruler, and I’ve repaired both a window screen and a meaningful relationship more than a few times.

Some of these, I’ll admit, I’ve probably gotten too good at, while struggling to improve at things that might matter a bit more to camp’s success (and my own). Others — like belaying on the high ropes course, driving the golf cart without an actual key, or calming a parent who isn’t getting the answer they want — I’ve learned out of necessity.

This is the thing about leadership at camp: it’s not just about what you set out to learn. It’s about what the job throws at you — and how you handle it. Carol Dweck calls it a “growth mindset,” the belief that abilities can be developed through dedication and hard work. Camp is essentially a graduate course in that regard. You wake up, step outside, and something — often unexpected — will come your way that you’ll need to figure out.

I’ve seen that same pattern in our campers and staff this summer:

  • The counselor who ran a fantastic Arts & Crafts activity with pure enthusiasm — even though the supply order they’d been counting on never arrived.
  • The older camper who volunteered to be goalie in soccer for the first time and then stopped two penalty shots in one game.
  • The first-time campers who stood on stage at our Community Campfire and spoke beautifully about a new friend being honored with a Community Service Award — even though they’d met less than a week before.
  • The bunk that secretly made friendship bracelets for their counselor, who was missing home, just to make sure she knew how much she mattered here.

These moments don’t happen because someone read a manual on leadership. They happen because we’ve built a community where people jump in, try, fail, adjust, try again — and where those actions are noticed and celebrated.

Now comes the final stretch. This is when leadership matters most — when routines are second nature, when it would be easy to coast. This is the time to double down: to lead loudly by cheering your team through the last Tribal event (which could break at any moment), and to lead quietly by spotting the camper sitting alone and inviting them into the game.

I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I can say without question that I’m already the luckiest I can be. Luck got me here, but leadership — mine, and yours — is what keeps making this place extraordinary.

So let’s finish strong. Let’s add a few more skills to our tool belts, a few more stories to our highlight reel, and a few more moments where someone surprises themselves with what they’re capable of. That’s how leaders are made here — one unexpected challenge, one person doing something special to make a difference, and one great camp day at a time.

Campfire Tales | This Camp. These Kids. This Summer (7/25/25)

July 25, 2025 
By Aaron Selkow, Owner/Director

Tomorrow morning, campers will drag themselves out of bed after a terrible night’s sleep, pack away their special Banquet gift, look once more for their favorite hat that’s been missing since the day that they hopped off the bus, and say goodbye to the place they’ve called home for the past four weeks. There will be tears for some, and more than a few “see you next summer” fist-bumps and hugs.

After the rush of departures, more than 100 campers will stay behind — trying to recover from the disappearance of their friends in time to greet their families for Visiting Day. And while there’s still plenty of summer ahead, this moment — the close of First Session — deserves to be held up, honored, and shared.

Because something remarkable happened here these past four weeks. Something real.

We watched a camper go from sitting quietly during the first lunch of the session to being the main character of their division’s Lip Sync performance (and he brought the house down!). We saw a group of 10-year-old girls leave notes under each other’s pillows — encouraging a friend who was having a tough day. We witnessed an entire audience stand and cheer for a camper who had just finished their solo at last night’s camp show. And we heard from a parent, midway through the session, who wrote to say:

“This is the happiest I’ve ever seen my child — and I haven’t even seen him in person yet. I can feel it in his letters.”

That’s the kind of magic camp creates — the kind that isn’t about trickery or spectacle, but about connection, courage, and a deep sense of belonging.

The talks on the platforms. The walks back from the lake. The “we got this” pep talks before a game against another camp. The thrill of scoring that one goal, or the sense of pride when tasting your first-ever homemade banana muffin. The pride felt in Tribal, and then the joy of not caring who won at all. These are the small, everyday moments that have added up to something unforgettable.

As Michael Thompson, Ph.D., author of Homesick and Happy, wrote:

“At camp, children have a chance to really find out who they are — to discover a version of themselves they didn’t know existed. It’s one of the few places where they get to do that without the gaze of their parents, their teachers, or a screen.”

We see it every summer. And this session, it was especially clear. We saw it in the way new campers settled in by the end of the first week — how even the most tentative goodbyes turned into beaming group photos. We saw it in the way returning campers stepped up as leaders, modeling kindness and confidence in quiet, everyday ways. And we saw it on nights like Tribal Rope Burn — where the fire wasn’t the only thing igniting something powerful.

As we wrap this First Session, I want to offer four messages — one for each part of our camp community.

To the parents:

Thank you. Thank you for trusting us. For sharing your child with us. For believing in this experience even when it meant stepping back. We don’t take that lightly. We hope you see a little extra light in your child’s eyes when they return home — and we hope you’ll hear stories that make you laugh, feel a sense of pride in your child, and maybe even tear up just a little.

To the staff:

You did it. You created this. With every game, every bunk chat, every conflict you helped resolve, every late-night laugh, and every early morning Revelie — you brought this place to life. Camp doesn’t work without you. And the impact you’ve made will stretch far beyond these four weeks.

To the campers heading home:

You were part of something special. You took chances. You made new friends. You had fun — a lot of it. But more than that, you helped make this community feel like family. Camp will be here when you come back, and so will we. Until then, carry a little piece of Chestnut with you. You earned it.

And to the campers staying on for Second Session:

We’re just getting started.

One of my favorite reflections about the power of camp comes from an essay by educator and camp professional Peg Smith:

“Camp gives kids a world of good — a chance to grow independent, to stretch, to stumble, and to soar… And when camp is at its best, it helps kids become not just better campers, but better people.”

That’s what this summer has felt like. So here’s to the memories we’ve made, the friendships we’ve built, and the courage we’ve witnessed. Here’s to the first-timers who became lifelong campers. Here’s to the camp veterans keeping the spirit alive. Here’s to the bunk cheers, the leaps from the Blob, the late-night laughs, the Pickleball rally, and the moments no one else will ever quite understand.

This camp.

These kids.

This summer.

We’re so proud. We’re so grateful. And we already can’t wait for what comes next.

Campfire Tales | Week 1 (6/29/24)

June 29, 2024 
By Aaron Selkow, Owner/Director

The beat goes on. History repeats itself. Same stuff, different day. Deja Vu. Killing time. Call it a day.

None of these idioms make any sense or are useful at Chestnut Lake Camp. This is not a place where the routine ever becomes routine. Clocks are almost nowhere on site in Beach Lake. Even the traditions that are time-worn are pulled, pushed, and twisted, never to be identical. The campers can have the same names two summers in a row, but they are not the same people. They grow; constantly grow in so many ways. There is a daily schedule. But the likeliness of it ever being the same even two days is slim. It rains at camp. And sometimes that causes us to move around in funny ways. But it’s only raining when we say it’s raining. There is downtime. That’s what we call the scant moments when we just can’t run full-speed anymore and we have to take a break. Have you seen a staff member at camp with an hour to spare sitting down? If you have, then you have seen a grown adult dozing off. Last night I was speaking to someone on the phone. They told me today that they hung up when I stopped responding for the second time.

A group of campers gather for a meeting at Chestnut Lake camp.We play hard here. It can be a lot for some of us. Our new campers have to adjust. Our new staff have to accept that everything they learned before the campers arrived was used up and not super relevant after four minutes of the campers being at camp. Returning campers have to adjust, too. They naturally compare the best of last summer to the early stages of the season that started 10 or 11 months later. Obviously, they liked stuff about Chestnut last summer to want to return. And some or a lot of that stuff is gone. They didn’t come back because they thought the Drama Center was special. They didn’t tell their friends how much they loved their camp because the trees stood in the same spot forever. They had it just right last year. Now it’s different. I am grateful for this. It means we all get to grow each year, it allows us to build community and create spirit each season. It means we can never get stuck somewhere, we can always create and enjoy something different. And what always mattered remains, in essence, the key principles and programs. They are here. The big ones are here forever.

A group of campers huddle together during a football game at Chestnut Lake Camp, showcasing teamwork, strategy, and the thrill of friendly competition.This has been one of the best “first weeks” I have ever seen. Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s been perfect. There were some tears, we had some people fall down, and plenty of mistakes were made. I consoled some campers. I did the same with some staff. I spoke to a few parents that were unhappy. There will be more. And yet, what is happening here has been just so incredible. The care, the concern, the laughing, the outstanding performances, the dancing, the singing, the made three-pointers, the perfect Pickleball dinks, the beautiful artwork, the recognition of peers and staff through Community Service Awards last night, the new friends forming, the first time on the Flying Squirrel, the first leap from the highest Wibit element, and so many other things. I have heard more people than I can count say this is the best. I hope tomorrow will bring more.

Being at home while we do all of this kinda stinks. You look at images on Campanion. There are not enough for some of us. You see the posts on Insta. Other camps are doing better. The phone calls have started, and they can be so hard. The first letter said, “I miss you.” Or worse. Every child and parent deserves to feel the joy and gratification of what camp is currently giving to almost everyone here. Tomorrow will have another person brought into the fold, and I hope that you are excited to be excited. And while we work on what isn’t ideal, I will be grateful for the chance to serve your family. We love our camp families. All of them. Even the ones that tell me we should be doing better. Go ahead, push me to be the best. I am pretty sure we can be.

Discover insights from Chestnut Lake Camp's 2023 survey. Explore key findings, camper experiences, and how we're improving for the future. Learn more today!At the first true Community Campfire, I joined Josh Lutman on stage to play a Dylan classic, “Wagon Wheel.” Our camp is not the only one that loves this song. To be honest, I don’t know what that is. But as long as the campers and staff come together to make music together at dusk sitting shoulder to shoulder at the Great Lawn, I don’t care why they like this song. They would probably sing anything. They just want someone to let them sing. Together.

I hope that you are feeling proud of yourselves at home for giving your children the gift of summer at Chestnut Lake Camp. You invested in your child’s growth and we are working incredibly hard to make sure that you see the return. Tomorrow will have so many opportunities for them to do something real, and we will recognize them for that. They are not going to stand around and wait for time to bring them more and better. They are going to grab time and make things happen right now. And we will help them.

From the CLC Porch | FINALLY!

June 29, 2021

Before I share my excitement and joy for the arrival of our campers 2021 camp season at Chestnut Lake Camp yesterday, I want to take us back in time a little bit…

The final day of a camp summer is bittersweet. The hard work of an entire year combined with the joy that is felt when you send the campers and staff back to their families and their real-world lives bring so many feelings. Even though there’s sadness mixed in with all the joy at the close of the season, I’ve always taken for granted that we would be back soon. The close of camp would give way to the first stages of preparation for the following year; processing and evaluating would start right away, and then off we would go to start getting ready once again. Only 10 months stood between the celebration of one great summer and the opening of yet another.

In August 2019, Chestnut Lake’s campers and staff gathered for their final Campfire, and then hours later started to board buses to head back home. Everyone assumed they would be back in less than one year to pick up where they were leaving off. Goodbye hugs and tears were tempered by the subconscious understanding that the camp cycle would recharge us before we lost track of the friendships, lessons, and memories found in Beach Lake, PA. But then a lot of things happened.

Months of planning moved along, but we were about to find ourselves at a crossroads. As our camp family looked ahead to 2020 for another amazing summer at CLC, our founding directors contemplated a big change for their own family. And then we learned of COVID-19. And then camp was closed for 2020. And then…well, the world went a bit haywire. Now let’s fast-forward back to June 27, 2021.

I started my first post From the CLC Porch (a metaphor for the vantage we have as leaders at camp, and the literal front porch that Ann and I have at our house here, where we will host campers most days of the summer for treats and fun) with reflection because it’s impossible to appreciate the power and meaning of yesterday’s arrival day without looking even further back. Last night, as we gathered for our Opening Campfire, seated on the log benches, we invited some of our youngest campers to help us with a traditional ritual at CLC. Passing a shovel from Ciqala camper to Ciqala camper, the boys dug up the metal can that held the ashes from the Closing Campfire of 2019. Never have the ashes been buried underground for 22 months – as we sprinkled them over the top of the fire, you could appreciate that this was a poignant moment symbolizing our own process of rejuvenation.

The time away from camp has certainly had an impact. The trees on our site are a bit taller, and so are many of the campers. Nearly two years of development has returned campers and staff to us looking a bit different, but I think they are also wiser. Many have developed more grit, and the events of the last 15 months have stretched your children’s capacity to adapt. But they’re still kids. We can see some of the familiar signs of adolescence and our counselors are supporting the typical feelings of separation from home, as we know that it takes a little while to get into the groove at camp. But being able to see campers here – to see them walking, running, hanging out, eating, playing – is such a gift. Their spirit and laughter are contagious, and we’re ready to leverage and celebrate it every day this summer.

Ann and I are thankful for all the support, and we are grateful for having so many talented and dedicated staff members here to work closely with your kids. This crew of Chestnut Lake staff are very special, and we are having a great time watching them maintain the greatness of Chestnut while simultaneously growing it.

We’re back. Finally.

 

Aaron Selkow and his wife, Ann, are the owners/directors of Chestnut Lake Camp in Beach Lake, PA.

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