At Camp Hitaga, near Walker, Iowa, we would sing - a lot. In our Camp Fire Girl troupe back in Cedar Rapids, we'd sing and we'd sing a lot at my home as well. I sang in school and church choirs, but n.o.t.h.i.n.g. could compare to singing at Camp Hitaga. There we'd sing at our morning flag ceremony, all the camp ceremonies and sing all our table graces at every meal. There seemed to be a song for everything: swimming, canoeing, camp crafts, nature center, archery, horseback riding as well as for mosquitos, grasshoppers-three who a-fiddling went, watermelons on the vine and deer keepers.
We sang after every meal when all the plates were scraped and things were in their places. The dining hall would be filled with the unaccompanied harmonies of girls singing. The elixir of the harmonies was - what was it? More heavenly than the Vienna Boys' Choir. More intoxicating and compelling than the convergence of entwined angelic songs.
My mother prepared me and my sisters for such singing. We'd sing with her as she played the piano at home. We each learned how to sing the melody and how to shift into the alto and again into the descants. At any given time, Carol, Kathy and I can switch into any part on a given song, though of course we each have our favorites parts we like to sing.
I loved all of this singing. But my favorite part of the singing was around the campfire. "Sing around the campfire, join the Camp Fire Girls..." was the theme song that played on the radio and on the television sets when I was in elementary school enticing girls to gather together. At Camp Hitaga, we slept in sleeping bags on rather rickety bunks beds in big canvas tents. Each night after Embers, a time when our counselor would read a story to us and talk with us about our day, the counselors in each unit would go out to the central campfire circle, ablaze with fire and light - and they'd sing.
One, two or more counselors would sit on old logs around the fire pit and play the guitar while the rest would join in those ethereal harmonies. The refrains would weave in and out, through and through - seamlessly and with simple beauty. For a blissful week or two every summer, I would fall to sleep listening to those young women singing supported by the symphony of crickets, katydid and locusts' song.
Later, after my first year at Luther College, I went back to camp as a counselor. My Shebonda Hill unit was for sixth graders and I loved them dearly. Each night, after Embers when I was sitting with my friends and strumming those songs on my guitar, my campers would call out from the tent, "Sing the 'Cat (Came Back) Song'," or "Sing the 'Titanic.'" Even though we'd sung those songs night after night, week after week - we'd sing them again with those woven harmonies rising past the moon and to the stars beyond. Every year after my time at camp, I'd come back feeling more loving, at love with the creation, my family and friends. Somehow I felt more connected to the fabric of nature and the harmonies of creation. When you sing night after night with crickets, fireflies and owls, how can you help but feel part of that choir?
Nowadays, I hope and pray that there continues to be such singing - still at Camp Hitaga, at Bible camps and other places throughout the world. I pray that there are places where children learn to sing in such holy harmonies and, where there are not places for them, that those of us who were so richly blessed, are trying to pass this singing on to others by recreating ember-time around campfires in our parks and backyards.
So, the next time you're invited to a campfire - go with a song on your heart and be prepared to sing aloud with the whispering pines and the wild geese that honk and fly overhead at night. Don't hesitate for a second if such an invitation comes your way - for your spirit and your refrains will be woven into the spirited voices of others in a soulful song that is ancient, beloved, primordial and soul-quenching.
Sing around the campfire, join a campfire girl...
