"What if we fall in ????"

I’m going to talk about the Shiloh of over 50 years ago. The camp was in Bernardsville/Mendham NJ on a site donated by a kind man with a heart for children. Hopefully more of the old Shiloh alumni will post memories as we reconnect and bridge the years to the Shiloh of today.

It’s 1956.  The Yankees are hot and the Dodgers are still at Ebbetts field.  Yanks beat the Dodgers in the World Series in 7 games.  Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Billy Martin, Whitey Ford, Elson Howard, Moose Skowron – that was a team.  I am 7 and seldom get out of the City.  That’s New York City for those of you from elsewhere – just “The City” for us that lived there. 

A classmate at PS 86 is the son of the Minister at the Eastside Church of Christ.  I’m Jewish.  We’re friends regardless.  Getting stuck in town for the summer was OK as it was all that I knew.  We would go to Central Park, wander along the East River, up on the roof at night or turn on a fire hydrant and play in the water – until a cop comes along and shuts it down after telling us off.   So on a spring day when Eddie Grindley is recruiting campers, he and Mr. Ransom the minister and a couple of college kids come by our apartment on E 83^rd and ask my mom if my sister and I can go away to a camp in NJ for a couple of weeks that summer.  No cost.  She eventually says “yes” – not an easy decision and one the Rabbi does not support.

So the fateful day comes and we go over to the Eastside building on a Saturday (I think) to get on the Grey Ghost to travel out to Camp Shiloh in NJ.  What an old bus – ex Navy, hence the color. Not a bad ride but my sister and I sit together and do not mix with the other kids too much.  We get to the campgrounds and pull up to the Big House. And it is a BIG house. Wow, what a sight.  Stone with a big porch and turrets and a neat staircase and someone whispers,  “it’s haunted” which adds to the mystery. 

All the kids are gathered together and assigned to cabins.  Well, my sister Elaine gets to go to a cabin in the Girl’s Camp. I go to a tent.  A big tent, to me anyway.  Ex military, OD green with side flaps that we would roll up or roll down.  Screens that would keep some of the bugs and mosquitoes out, but not all. Ever see a mosquito in the City? No, me either.  The mosquitoes out at camp were so big they would sometimes decide to pick us up and take us to the swamp. Ok, maybe not but they looked that big to me.

I think there are 7 or 8 bunk beds arrayed around the edge of the tent.  The bunk beds are also ex military with saggy springs and a very thin mattress. I even think the blankets were OD green. There is a wooden floor that keeps the bunks off the ground – but it is a tent.  Any when it rained we learned not to run your finger along the tent roof or touch it as the canvas suddenly sprung a leak.  Something to do with water tension, said the counselor. Of course, sometimes one of us would deliberately cause a water drip to start over the bed of a fellow camper who was a pest, a bully or just to get even for a slight. A wet bed is a terrible thing at night.

And then the big shocker comes our way. The Kybo. An outhouse.  What’s this? I mean, come on. We are civilized city folk here, and we have to use an outhouse? How rude is that.  The counselor, an “old guy” who is probably 19 and in college, has us all sit on the floor and tells us the rules.  One item is the language of going to the Kybo.  We are mostly city kids and have a vocabulary for those functions that he does not want us to use.  Standard 4 letter words for all functions. OK, we’ll play along.  We go down to the end of the Boy’s camp to visit the facility and get a lesson in how to use the Kybo.  We know how to use a toilet. What’s different here?  Well one thing several of us realize is that the seats are large holes cut in a board that was sized for adult bottoms and we were all pretty small with appropriately small posteriors.  Uh oh, one of the kids says: “what if we fall in.” Panic. We confer (without the “old guy”) after we get back to the tent and decide that we would only go in minimum of pairs (And you thought that was only a girl thing) and each promised that if one of us fell in, the other would be there to help him get out.  Day or night, rain or shine we never went to the outhouse alone.  We even found rope to hide close to the Kybo to be available in case of emergency.  Never used, but a comfort to know it was there.

More to come later…..

Ray Newton
Camper 1956 to 1962

BEFORE THE BEGINNING

In the late 1940s, two young women who worked and worshipped in New York City drove out to meet with the Church in the Wildwood, near Bernardsville, New Jersey.   Seeking help, they unloaded on Clinton and Flora Davidson about their difficulties in reaching street children. “Brother Davidson, we’re discouraged.  The kids can’t associate their brownstones nor our hallowed halls with the simple stories of Jesus.” Their pleas clarified ideas Clinton had been thinking of to get city children away from their grimy walk-ups.

“They need so badly to be taken from the noisy steel-and-glass of Manhattan,” said one. “What they’ve been denied is God’s unspoiled creation.” Remembering his childhood in Kentucky, he nodded. He knew he couldn’t have said it better.

Could the long-vacant estate adjacent to Davidson’s home be a key to the answer? He contacted the realtor and was soon being shown an immense mansion, surrounded by its sizable acreage. “Oh yes,” the agent said, “its owners named it Oakdene, but folks around here have got to calling it the English Castle. The first part, was built early in the 1890s in something of a Tudor-Revival style, by Charles W. Ide, who was from Brooklyn and president of the New York Cotton Exchange, They lived in it about a decade. It then sold to another wealthy man, William Scott Pyle, who got rich marketing a washing powder that became a top seller in the last half of the 1800s. Eventually sold out to Procter and Gamble.”   The Pyles expanded the mansion to thirty-six rooms.   A lawyer named Grant had it until he died a few years back.”

“The house has been vacant for some time.” Clinton began his bargaining in words the realtor would hardly notice. “To get it back into usable condition would take a considerable investment.” In his mind he organized his points. “It doesn’t take long for any space left vacant to deteriorate.” He looked about. “And these grounds are a tangled mess!”

Clinton pretended to talk to himself as he noted one area after another needing repairs or replacements. Looking at the sunken garden and coming across the statues within it, Clinton made his way alone through lush overgrowth. Lord, if we could bring kids here from the city to experience life in such a peaceful, safe place . . . . .  

Flora cautioned, “If waifs who’ve only played among arguing street gangs and the grind of construction equipment, dear man, mightn’t they be frightened by crickets and birds in this wild?” They swung gently together on the slatted glider of their back porch, listening to the cooing of mourning doves. “I wonder if any of those city kids have ever heard such peaceful sounds?”

The following week he laid a stunning proposal before the close-knit little Church in the Wildwood. “Most of you know I’ve been dreaming of a place of restoration for little ones from the tenants. I’m happy to report that we’re getting closer to the first big step,” he said.

Some moved to the edge of their chairs and one stared in anticipation. Another wanted to burst in but held her tongue.

“I’m asking whether all of you could help me secure the huge old mansion and its grounds next to us here.”

No one could speak. What might be required of them?

“I have managed to get the agent down to a price of $40,000, which is remarkable for that property. However, I have to tell you there are indications that local politics could block our securing this wonderful estate.” When they came back together, members had committed themselves as deeply as they could on finances, and the Davidsons made up the remainder.

In spite of the community’s active uses of the chapel, the group found neighbors opposing a camp of any kind being established in their exclusive midst. Are we to be defeated before we even got going? Most members felt thwarted, all were scared or discouraged. They began to pray.

The following week, the Wildwood church couldn’t help but believe that God over-ruled officialdom when, at the next meeting in town, two deciding voters didn’t show up. Also, there had been something of a feud between the building inspector and zoning board members. Wonder of wonders, permission was granted for the camp!

“Not only that,” Clinton couldn’t help but smile, “there were no requirements for revisions to property. If any had been major, it could have been costly indeed.”

He was vastly relieved but knew he had to calm their elation. “Folks, this was only our first step. We’re a long way from making this dream come true.” Soberly, he continued, “I have neither the time nor the capabilities to put together a proper team that has to be. I’m too busy and I simply don’t have those kinds of gifts. Its going to require leadership, not to speak of teachers and counselors who can direct and inspire the whole thing.”

Dare he hope for charisma in a leader? After telephoning contacts in Kentucky where he’d grown up, he scribbled names and numbers of friends in Arkansas. He called officers at Christian colleges to tell them how his hopes of rescuing poor little street children had grown. “But we really need a Godly man to head up and manage the whole thing,” he concluded.

The critical call came from Eddie Couch, just over in Manhattan. “Brother Davidson, remember the remarkable Irishman who worked with us for a time? He’s moved his family upstate but he may be your man.” Clinton sat down and got out his pen. “From those Eddie Grindley brought into our times of worship here,” Couch went on, “we know he has toe-holds among multi-nationals on the East Side. No, he doesn’t have seminary training--not much formal education for that matter--but there’s no one who can match his drive. Nor his unabashed love for people. Children especially.”

“What experience does he have? Any organizational abilities?”

“He and his wife worked as both cooks and house parents in a children’s home in Arkansas. Then after they left us they served well at Camp Hunt and with a little church nearby. His spirit just spills into everyone around him.”

Responsible people from upstate New York confirmed Couch’s words. “Yes, he and his wife Stella can cook for crowds and they’ve built trust with grown-ups down to toddlers. Wherever they go.”

Some time back, Clinton had heard from his son Jack that he and Eddie had gained each other’s confidence during the Grindley’s time in Searcy. That pretty well cinched the case. Winter was losing its grip in early 1951 when he got on the phone to invite this remarkable couple down to get the camp underway.

This post is excerpted from Sam Lanford's For the Children, a story about the life of Eddie Grindly and the early Shiloh years.  Sam was Summer Staff Camp staff in 1952 and was an active member of the Eastside Church of Christ, which was closely associated with Shiloh from it's beginning until the mid 1970's.

From Camper to Staff to Alumni

Its hard to begin to put my history with Shiloh in words. The place I would attend every summer for five years became more than just a getaway for me from boring summers at home. It became part of who  I am today.  It wasn't until I started going to camp that I really understood God’s love and His precious gift of life. I didn't understand what it meant to be a good loving person and to forgive just how Jesus forgives. I didn't understand what it meant to be humble towards people. I was a child growing up in Bridgeport, CT and all I knew was that I felt safe just keeping to myself. My first year I didn't say much. Even though I was away from home I felt safe with my counselors and support staff.  I was even comfortable camping out in the middle of the woods with just my sleeping bag and a pillow. After that first week of camp I knew that I couldn't wait for the whole year to pass just to spend another week at camp. As I grew every year I began to want to learn more and more about God and Jesus. I spent lots of time with Lucas, my counselor in 1998, reading the bible and asking many questions I was to afraid of asking the Nuns at my church ;). And Yes!! I did find $100 dollars at camp out night and my cabin and I had an amazing ice cream party. It was great to share with great friends in an amazing place. I was sad to find out at 15 that the next year I would be too old to go to camp, but that wouldn't end my Shiloh history.

My senior year in high school I came back to Shiloh as a CIT (Counselor in Training). Happy to be there, I was assigned to the Food Service support staff member Annalee and I did what I loved to do. I helped with set up, serving food to the staff and campers, and on off weekends I would cook. I went to college shortly after and majored in Food Service Management at Johnson & Wales University. After my first year of college, I was back at camp ready to serve and give back what I had learned through my time as a camper. I soon learned it definitely was harder than I thought it would be. Every session had heart aches from campers leaving because they could not get along or campers who were too home sick to stay. Even through tough times we managed to really stick together to show the campers what a great place Shiloh was. Through morning classes, playing ball, fun nightly games, and very interesting conversations, I felt inspired and motivated to come back the next year as a counselor. I was lucky to have such a great co-counselor two years in a row. My last year on staff I was fortunate to complete my internship as the food service support staff member. I had a different job but I was still able to continue to give back to the children and see familiar faces. It really is a special feeling to see campers return year after year, remember you, and tell you how much it means to them that you are there. It shows how much this place really means to campers as well as counselors.

As an alumni, every year that passes I think of how awesome my time at camp was. It helped when I was younger and made me realize how blessed I am that I was able to meet such inspiring people who commit their time to spend their summers helping plant seeds in our hearts. I think it’s safe to say as a staff member the kids plant seeds in our heart as well. We can take what we learn and really see how blessed we are. Thank you to all alumni past, present and future for committing your time to do this special work. It really does make a difference. I can say that with confidence because I was in both roles and I am very proud to say I am the first college graduate in my family. I owe all of this to Camp Shiloh for giving me hope and strength, and teaching me that I can do all things through Christ because He gives me the strength.

Jason

 

Jason was a camper from 1997 until 2000.  In the summer of 2003, Jason became a CIT and the year after became a cabin counselor until 2006 when he took on the role of Nutrition Director as a support staff member.  He graduated in 2007 with a bachelor’s in Food Service Management.  Jason has worked at Houlihan’s and Blue Chip Restaurant and Bar as a floor manager and is currently working as a Manager for a full service butcher shop in Newtown, CT called The Meat House.  He is currently living in Bridgeport, CT.  Jason would like to say to the Shiloh family how proud he is to have been a part of such a great cause.  “Shiloh is truly an amazing place but that wouldn’t be possible without all the amazing people who have and will come through that amazing camp ground.”

 

$100

Nineteen ninety-eight was a year when cabins went camping on cabin night.  No tents.  No pre-build platforms.  No charcoal. Just the ground below us, stars above us, a lighter, and meager portions of hot dogs, marshmallows and whatever the counselor bought at the Lazy G. These were the days when counselors spooked their kids with inappropriate ghost stories, support staff - not having responsibility for a cabin - made raids on our makeshift campgrounds, and we had no concern for Lyme disease (Why I don’t know). 

It was session five, the last of the summer, and we were out for our fifth cabin night - six kids, two exhausted counselors.  Our only goal was to get the fire started and get whatever sleep we could get on the bumpy hard ground.  The kids were sent for firewood and hotdog sticks.  They usually came back with 4 inch wide “logs” asking if they would make good hot dog sticks. While the kids hunted for supplies my co-counselor and I sat with pride that we got our fifth and last fire started while we whittled the logs into hot dog sticks.  Just then we heard Jason yell excitedly, “Is this real? Is this real?” as he ran into the campground and thrusted a $100 bill in our faces.

Jason was probably 13 at the time and quite possibly the most amazing kid I had the privilege to counsel during my two summers.  His priorities were not of an average 13 year old - not of an inner city 13 year old or of a privileged suburban 13 year old.  After establishing the authenticity, we told Jason he could do whatever he wanted with it, but that for his best interest (and because of camp policy) we would have to hold it until he got on the bus heading back to Bridgeport.  So of course he wanted to buy the latest video game, the coolest kicks (do they call them that anymore?), new shades, or a new Yankees cap, right?  No, he wanted all of his cabin mates to have a modest ice cream party and for the famished staff - after lights out - to be treated to milk shakes at Stewart’s.  A 13 year old with more money in hand than he could imagine taught all of a lesson in generosity and kindness that could not be matched during bible classes, celebration, or fireside lessons. He flipped the dynamic as he became the counselor and I became the camper.

Lucas was a counselor at Camp Shiloh during the summer of 1998 and was the Youth Counseling Director in 2001.  Lucas was a mentor in the teen mentoring program from 2002 thru 2004.  He was a Pediatric Physical Therapist for 6 years and has been a healthcare analyst/manager for Union Health Fund for the past 3 years.  He currently lives in Queens New York.

"The Shiloh Family"

In 2002, I was hired to work at a summer camp in New York that I knew very little about. I just knew that I always loved going new places and I thought it’d be a good chance for me to do something worthwhile with my summer. I had absolutely no idea what God had in store for me at this place. 

He intended for me to become part of a family of people.  He placed people around me at this camp that I will love and cherish forever. These people have truly shaped me into the person that I am today and the person that I hope to become. I had the blessing to be on staff with and have campers that challenged me. Challenged me in a way that other Christians truly should…

I met Chris Ewing who taught me the seriousness of our mission while we worked at Shiloh. He regularly kept our focus on the children that we were there to serve. And he helps keep my focus on my mission in life still today.

I met Robyn (Shores) Foster who taught me how to relate the Bible to everyone, even inner-city children. Even today, I remember the lessons that she wrote for us and I can explain them to almost anyone. What a gift from God to be able to put your faith in words!

I met Marcus Ewing who taught me how to love children and people in the most difficult times. He had a gift for working with kids even in the hardest of moments. He taught me about praising a child and respecting a child before you would ever criticize them. I think about the things he talked about every day as I work with children.

I met Teresa French who taught me the heart of a servant. She showed me how to work behind the scenes and never seek attention for yourself. She was always supporting others and had a selfless attitude. I consider this a Godly quality that I strive to have.

I met Nakeisha Vanterpool who taught me how to be an individual. She and her sister were different from the other campers, even in 2002. They stood up for what they believed in and they tried to do what was right even in adversity… a pretty amazing skill to have when you’re 11 years old.

I could go on and on. The people that He brings each year are special. As staff, we all come to this place thinking that we are there to make a difference. Then, we are each made better every summer as a result of the amazing kids that we meet and the peers that surround us.

Shiloh has taught me how important every human being is in the kingdom of God. It taught me not to judge a person or a child, but to love them. Even when it’s hard and even when that person doesn’t come in a nice, neat package, he calls me to love. God placed some children in our lives at Shiloh that came in very difficult packages, and God taught me to look past it and to love them. He taught me this lesson at Shiloh and he expects me to remember this lesson each and every day.

I pray for this place and this mission regularly. I still have pictures on my wall of Shiloh kids. And, beside those pictures, there is a verse. It says “This is the resting place, let the weary rest” – Isaiah 28:12.  I pray that Shiloh continues to be a place of rest for these children for years to come. I pray that it continues to influence the children that drive down that gravel driveway and that it changes the hearts of the staff that live in the cabins each summer. It is a special place and one that I will never forget…

                                                                   
~Kristi (Cooke) Barney

Kristi was a Cabin Counselor from 2002 until 2004 and returned to Shiloh in the summer of 2006 to serve as the Youth Counseling Director.  Kristi moved to New York City in 2006 and volunteered as a mentor in the High-Def program.  Kristi currently lives in Huntsville, Al with her husband Adam.  She works as a Speech Pathologist at United Cerebral Palsy where she works with children from birth to elementary-aged who have speech/ language disorders. 

 

CAMP

By definition CAMP is a place usually in the country for recreation or instruction often during the summer (Merriam-Webster Dictionary). It’s interesting how my definition of CAMP has evolved.

My very first taste of CAMP life was tagging along each summer to a camp in east Texas, while my granddad directed a session. I would stay in the director's cabin with my grandparents, while my parents, aunts, and uncles were counselors in the girls and guys cabins.

When I was old enough to attend CAMP on my own, I made a paper chain counting down the days until my turn to be a camper arrived. For ten years, I went to different camps and learned different life lessons at each one. But, none compare to the lessons I learned at one CAMP in particular.

My freshman year of college came and I discovered there were many different CAMPs taking applications for staff members. There was one CAMP in particular I was interested in. Some friends’ older sister had previously worked there and from the few things I had heard about this CAMP SHILOH, it was the place I wanted to be most. I had never been there, I had never even been to the state where it is located, but I really hoped that would change. And it did.

I went to an interview in my college’s campus library one evening.  I definitely didn’t have all the right answers but I remember leaving thankful for the way God filled me with words when I wasn’t sure what to say and filled me with peace no matter what happened as I walked away.  A few days later, I received a phone call offering me a job to be a counselor at CAMP SHILOH. All the emotions that rushed through me in that moment paled in comparison to all the emotions that were to come. 

Two months later, in June of 1999 I drove to the DFW airport, boarded an airplane for an early morning flight, then climbed on a van, and finally stepped foot at CAMP SHILOH for the first time.  From the moment I went down that windy path for the first time I was never the same.

It was at CAMP SHILOH I learned:

-first impressions are often completely wrong.

-the importance of wearing closed-toe shoes at all times (the day I stepped on a snake tail after leaving the pool).

-how to correctly do laundry.

-to brush my teeth before taking a shower (so for one split second I was clean from head to toe before getting sweaty and dirty all over again).

-kids who have seen sewer rats by the dozen are scared beyond belief of tiny mice.

-“co-counselor” takes entirely too long to say (so we implemented the title “co-co” instead).

-there is no limit to how many times certain songs can be sung at a talent show.

-to double dutch jump rope and a whole new world of dance moves.

-taking your campers to pick the blueberries in the woods, and letting all consume as many as desired, may cause the cabin bathroom to have a line.

-why you should never swing a flaming marshmallow in the air.

-not too gather bark for fire starter from live trees.

-the power of forgiveness.

-a spoonful of kool-aid mix works great to reward good behavior and keep everyone hydrated.

-how much there is to learn from each others’ experiences.

-everyone doesn’t react in the same way to the same situation and that is a good thing.

-it’s not enough to think I know what I believe, I must seek why and be prepared to answer.

-to grow from my mistakes (instead of just wallowing in them).

-the hardest moments are the ones you will remember the most.

Because of CAMP SHILOH my heart knows more pain and more love.  I was changed for the better because of my experiences and the people I met. The lessons learned at a camp do not ever leave you; you take them with you forever. And that’s why somewhere along the way my definition of CAMP changed. When I hear the word it no longer has a generic meaning, I immediately think of SHILOH.

Annalee spent the summers of '99 and '00 as a cabin counselor, the summer of '01 as the activities director, and the summer of '03 as the nutrition director and art director.  After spending her summers at camp, Annalee began her teaching career in Abilene, TX where she taught for two years and then moved to Austin, TX where she taught for 3 years.  Annalee married in 2004 and quickly brought her husband Evan to visit Shiloh in 2005 so he could see the special place she would always hold in her heart.  Annalee became a mom in 2008 to Adelaide, who is now 3, and then to Graham, who is now 1.  Currently Annalee is a stay at home mom, a discussion leader for a Moms group at church, and one of the VBS directors for 3 year olds.

 

A Stroll to Lazy G

On that first early morning in June 1982 I awoke from a sound sleep in the staff cabin to the clanging of pots and pans, loud laughter and conversation coming from the nearby kitchen and dining room on the first floor of Roseberry Hall. Not one to recommend picking a fight with the cook and her assistant, I endured the noise and later met Nina Johnson and her capable assistant, Maureen Campbell. Both were from Long Island—not that I knew where that was since this was my first time setting foot on New York soil—having stuffed themselves, their summer belongings, Nina’s two daughters (Melissa Johnson and Sybil Johnson), and Nina’s two Shih Tzu dogs (Buffy and Beauty) into and on top of Nina’s tiny VW bug for the trip north and west. Thus began the first of my three summers at Shiloh, 1982-1984. It would be during the 1983 summer that Maureen would lure me on a walk down the road to get a soda at Lazy G, at which time she proposed to marry me.

In 1981 (I think), while I was a student at Pepperdine University, I attended a World Mission Workshop at David Lipscomb College in Nashville. Among the displays was one for stateside work in the northeast, upstate New York, for Camp Shiloh, Inc. This sounded great as I was concentrating my studies around youth agency administration and I needed a venue to serve out a "practicum." The application process was easy, but the need to raise funds did not appeal to me. Once I started getting the word out, however, the fund-raising proved to be quite simple. The costs: $250 for a summer's wages, $250 for room and board, and whatever else it cost for round-trip travel and other expenses. Contributors were generous and enthusiastic. Most enthusiastic, I recall, was my admissions counselor at Pepperdine, Ms. Sandra (Sandy) Lemm Gregory, a former year-round Shiloh worker herself.

The next June, in 1982, I took World Airways from LAX to Newark, where I was greeted by Shiloh's Executive Director, Tony Lupinacci, a recent graduate of Northeastern Christian Junior College (NCJC) in Villanova, PA and Nicki Burton, a counselor from Lipscomb (I would later learn that Nicki was the sister-in-law of one of my Pepperdine professors). Tony drove us in his stick-shift Toyota Corolla past the old Giants Stadium in the Meadowlands and Yankee Stadium in the Bronx, which probably means that we crossed the George Washington Bridge along the way, although I don’t recall that (why would anyone want to do that, anyway?).

In addition to Tony and Nicky, other staffers I recall from 1982 include Greg Wilson (NCJC), who drove the bus transporting the kids to/from camp; Bill Westerberg (Oklahoma Christian), a wrestler who would later become Shiloh’s director for two or three years beginning 1985 (I think), before the tenure of Lois and Mitchell Greer; Ruth Stamps (NCJC); Beth Ramsdell (Harding); Kirsten Eckerberg (Harding); Dan Billingsley (Harding); Steve Henn (Abilene Christian, I think); Mark Horsley (don’t recall which school, but whose sister lived in Manhattan); Gail and Peter Traisci (Danbury, CT), whose daughter Leigh would one day be the flower girl at our wedding; Jane and John Galutia and their kids, Wendy and John, Jr. (West Chester, PA), who would later meet up with us in Malibu, CA; Regina Lewis (Brooklyn), and a man named Percy from New Jersey (Newark?).

Counselors-in-training (CITs) during those summers included long-time campers Alfredo Cruz and his brother (Curtis?); Yolanda (Yo-Yo Melendez); Malik Crowder; Denise Allen; two girls from somewhere in New Jersey named Deanna (Dee) and Keena (Kee--I remember that Kee liked to wear a certain pair of jeans with the words “Brown Sugar” embroidered on one of the back pockets); and David Wilson. During our training period, I recall visiting the Flatlands Church of Christ in Brooklyn, for whom David Wilson has since served for many years as minister, I believe. I also recall a guy by the name of Dirk Forrester, from the year-round days, coming up from Tennessee (I think) to lecture us on the finer nuances of language from the city streets, trying to shock us into getting used to hearing certain vulgar expressions.

Memories of the next two years are much less clear, perhaps because I got engaged during the summer of 1983 and got married before the summer of 1984. Staff from those two years, as best as I can recall, included my Pepperdine friend, Anna (Banana) Trujillo in 1983 and her running mate Gene (from Lipscomb, although I don’t recall his last name); Sue Ellen Smith, who would one day become Maureen’s maiden of honor; a guy named Brett; Scot Harris and a guy named Mikey; and John Sanders from one of the five boroughs (Queens?), whose very quiet demeanor nevertheless commanded the respect of the campers. During all of those summers, I recall that the Admissions/Choral group from NCJC, “Sonrise,” came to perform and were always a big hit.

The campers, as always, of course, were the primary reasons for all of us gathering at the site in the first place. Campers who were unforgettable to me include the Levy children—Judy, Tony (aka “Yoda”), and Willard from Adee Avenue in the Bronx; Kasseim Bing from Mount Vernon; the Bush children, Afrika and Tunisha (sp?) from Mount Vernon, who were absolute masters at double-dutch; and the Todd family from Philadelphia, especially Robert Todd, who would come with his boom-box blasting “Eye of the Tiger” (from Rocky III?) and the soundtrack to a new block-buster music video entitled “Thriller.”

David Fritz was at Shiloh three summers - 1982-1984 -he me this wife Maurine who was there for five summers, 1980-1984. He taught Bible and served as a cabin counselor. David has worked in public social services for sixteen years, for the Legal Aid Society in Manhattan for the last eight years and is a Licensed Master Social Worker (LMSW). He and Maureen currently live in Amityville, NY and attend the West Islip Church of Christ.

The Fruits of the Spirit

I’ll always remember summer 2007. I have a hard time explaining a lot of the feelings to people who have never worked at Shiloh NYC. It was hard. Yet, it helped shape my views of the way God works in our lives and how we should always seek to build community. Some days I thought I was making no difference and wanted to run head-first into the nearby Catskill Mountains just to get away. The next day, or in some cases, the next hour, I saw real fruit. Let me explain some of the fruits of Shiloh as I experienced them.

Love is the heart of the camp. Love the kids. Show them Christ by loving them. Love would then come back around. It might be the last hour, but it would come. My darkest and brightest memory from teen session each came within an hour of each other. Maybe an hour before the bus pulled away, a camper had tagged a good portion of our porch with a marker. Before he left, I made him remove it all with sandpaper. I told him very sternly (possibly as serious as I had been the entire week) that I didn’t approve of his actions, but that I loved him. We both cried, and I think he understood. Of course, I’m sure he later realized he was off the hook. I took a deep breath and enjoyed breadsticks and endless pizza with the staff that hung around Camp that weekend. I learned in that situation that love from God does not always come from little hallmark cards and hugs. Sometimes, love comes from the streets of Brooklyn in baggy shorts and a heart that longs for direction.

Joy comes flowing out of every time of worship at camp. One of my favorite times at camp is celebration. The first day, the campers are excited just to learn the words. The second day, they’re shouting/singing “Jesus is my best friend”. What a joy it is just to hear them sing that tune. The last day, you end with celebration, and I fought the tears every time knowing I had to say goodbye. That goodbye was joyous, though. They had made new friends and had reason to be more than happy, but to experience what I would call joy.

Peace might be the last thing you think of when walking into the woods with 6 kids from the Bronx and Bridgeport, CT. Yet, each time, it seems, through a prayer time with two campers, or a morning pool workout with staff – there was peace. Almost every child taught me what it was like to be at peace, with God or with the world, while praying. Teresa French got me and a couple other staff members to do water aerobics a few mornings before anyone else was awake. We laughed a lot, but those were some very peaceful mornings. The days I got up before anyone else to journal about my experience made me most at peace. You get the kids out of the city, and it helps them find peace, too. They see things they’ve never seen before and are able to breathe fresh air. It doesn’t take work to see the fruits of peace, it just takes time.

The other fruits were shown day after day. Patience was obviously learned or otherwise exercised on an hourly, no, momentary basis. Kindness was shown in the willingness of the staff to serve the kids and each other. Goodness knows faithfulness, gentleness and self control were fruits that were used again and again without a second thought.

Those fruits will never go away and neither will the lasting relationships with campers and staff. I still keep in touch with a lot of the people I got to know that summer. They’re all mad wack (awesome), and so is Shiloh.

Daniel was a counselor at Camp Shiloh during the summer of 2007 and volunteered during 2008. He has worked as an IT professional at AmSurg for 2 years. During this time he completed 4 full marathons and 4 half marathons. He currently attends Ethos Church in Nashville Tennessee and leads a small group of runners that run to grow and encourage others through community and Christ. He volunteers at Room in the Inn’s Odyssey Program for individuals who were formerly homeless.

Wrong Number

I have been forever changed and it all started in April of 1997 with a phone call to the wrong number.

(Jenny Behel) “Hello, may I please speak with Summer?” (Me) “Umm, I think you have the wrong number.” (Jenny) “Well who is this?” (Me) “This is Sallie Chase.” (Jenny) “Hi, Sallie! I might as well ask you, do you have any plans this summer? We are looking for counselors to come work at this camp called, Shiloh.” (Me) “I don’t have any plans. In fact, I was just praying about my summer plans right before you called!”

I met with Jason Isbell and Chris Bedard to interview for Camp Shiloh the very next day, and actually spent the first few minutes of the conversation sobbing about how God literally used the telephone to get my attention. And the rest is history! From the moment I first heard the name, Shiloh, until this very day just 14 short years later I have been forever changed. Shiloh seeks to change the lives of children and I was ecstatic to be a part of that mission. What I didn’t realize until the end of my very first summer in 1997 is that Shiloh would change my life.

I can not even begin to choose a favorite story to share with you, like it is mentioned in the bible, they are as countless as the sands on the seas. However, I will try to explain what the campers of Shiloh taught me. Sam taught me how to have self-control. Sharron taught me the importance of speaking your mind. Gabriella taught me that the heartache is inevitable. Raven and Ashley taught me how to be silly. Alfredo taught me how to trust. Perry taught me how to laugh. Jason taught me how to love God’s word. Luis taught me patience. Jennifer taught me how to dance. Jasmine taught me creativity. Raquel taught me to be persistent. Lisa taught me how to sing. Ajoke taught me to be disciplined. Tina taught me the importance of being myself. Shayna taught me how to persevere. Cynthia taught me how to overcome. These and the countless others, showed me a side of God I had never seen and in turn, taught me how to truly love.

Shiloh captured my heart and has sent it on a roller coaster of emotions, experiencing everything from heart ache to utter and complete joy. Upon graduating from Harding, there was only one option, to move to NYC where I could continue building the relationships I fostered during the summers. I moved from a small, rural town of 4,000 to a large, urban city of 8 million. There hasn’t been another experience in my life that has impacted my life the way Shiloh has. The seed was planted in my heart 14 years ago and it continues to grow. I have been forever changed!


Sallie Chase was a Counselor (1997-2001), the Assistant Camp Director (2003-2004), and the Camp Director (2005) at Camp Shiloh. After graduating with her Bachelor’s from Harding University, Sallie moved to New York City in the fall of 2000. While living in New York City Sallie worked as a nanny, began her teaching career at Buckley, and was active in Shiloh’s Wednesday night teen mentoring group. During this time Sallie moved to Stamford, CT and graduated with her Masters from Teachers College at Columbia. She is currently teaching children who are blind in the Bronx.

'Alfred E.'

I was dragged to Shiloh in 1964 by my uncle and aunt. I’d heard local ‘church kids’ like me were outnumbered by tough kids from bad neighborhoods and, as an 80-pound 12-year-old ‘nerd’ with alcoholic parents I kept hidden from all comers, I wanted no part of it. I couldn’t imagine why my own kin thought it would ‘do me good’.

The ‘Big House’ didn’t faze me. My counselor Bob looked like Tarzan, in a blinding-white T-shirt, jeans and Cons; I was sure he must be dumb as rocks. My cabin-mates terrified me: all bigger, more athletic and confident than I. And the charms of cabins, bathhouse, birdbath and unplumbed Kybo were lost on me. Nor did the lake win me: naturally I couldn’t swim, and expected nothing but trouble in the water with my gigantic fellow-campers. Cabin 12, who stayed out on Campout Hill, didn’t just look tough enough to be in the Army, but tough enough to beat up the Army.

So, before the big bell rang for dinner I ran away, and my counselor and other staff had to come find me; most of the way to Mendham.

My attitude may have begun to change as early as that first meal. Who could forget the endless bug juice, the heaped baskets and platters of food and dessert? Or being accepted at table, after such a beginning.

At rec, Bob and I took a walk to talk things out. I wonder, now, what he saw; I saw that this muscle man stayed calm, asked good questions about my fears, and spoke gently to them.It was at evening devotional that the place began to cast its spell: sunset streaking a sapphire sky deepening to azure; fireflies; rippling, slowly-stilling water, cabin groups gathered; a spirit bond I sensed but for which I had no name as yet; and singing, like I had never heard, nor ever hope to – infectiously-joyful and even silly songs, and solemn soaring ones like ‘My God And I’ that stir my heart still.

And then canteen, cabin, devo, and bed. I slept sweet, on a plywood bunk with an old mattress – beside a screen through which the wind whispered, all night long.

I learned Bible, and what true Christian spirit looks like, from Wayne Willis, who taught college Bible – and my counselor, who, it proved, was one of his best students, 4.0 in Bible and overall. In Arts and Crafts I joined an ‘arms race’ of lanyard-making (4 strands! 8! 12! 16! Where would it end?). I couldn’t sing, but helped make the Music Room walls ring. Nature Study was too soggy for me but some, from asphalt streets, cherished it. I remember the overnight on campout hill, Talent Night (Wayne brought down the house with Leroy Van Dyke’s “Auctioneer”), greased-watermelon races, the big swing over the lake, and cabin awards.

Shiloh held delicious mysteries for campers: were the ghost stories real? Did a ghost walk the boards in the Big House attic? What was the secret of the chapel by the lake? What was this ‘green light’ the counselors whispered about so secretively?

I lost all my comics learning pinochle from Reggie Brandevine and Jeff Dawkins, who were neither dumb, nor as terrifying as I’d thought. They told life-stories that stood my hair on end, and opened the door for first-time telling of my stories in return. My cabin nickname, ‘Alfred E.’, was only fair; the resemblance was remarkable.

My session ended as it began: I ran away, hoping my uncle would just leave me. Going home, I begged for TWO sessions the next year. I started, like Jeff and some other campers, to pray, secretly, that one day (beyond hope) perhaps (if we were good enough) we could be Shiloh staff, a prayer God granted us. But that is another story.

Tom Wheeler was a camper (’64-’66), dishwasher (’67), cabin 4 counselor (’69), Bible teacher (’70-’72), year-round staffer in Dover, ENY Brooklyn and Newark (’69-’72) and jackleg PR writer / photographer / printer (’72). After Shiloh Tom completed a BA in Psychology, attended seminary, but then, like so many, was absorbed by the I/T revolution, and has been a systems developer from 1978 to the present. He likes to tell stories. He and his wife Sondra live in Rockville, Maryland and are blessed with children Sarah, Jessica, and Tim.

A Place of Love

     When asked to write an article for this blog, I thought it was going to be easy. I was wrong. After four years of working for Shiloh, I feel like there are hundreds of stories I could tell, all of which are meaningful to me, and all of which give a small taste of the many things that Shiloh does for its campers and its staff. And that’s where the difficulty comes in. What story can I tell to sum up what Camp Shiloh has meant to me?
      I’ve settled in on the story of a camper that I had in my cabin in the summer of 2008. I didn’t go into that summer expecting to be a cabin counselor. I had started off filling the position of Youth Counseling Director, but when third session rolled around, a counselor was needed in one of the cabins, so I got to re-enter the world of cabin counselors for a week and a half. This ended up being one of the most challenging sessions I would experience during my four-year stint with Shiloh, but I also had some of my favorite interactions with a camper named Ernesto.
      I’m not sure how many times Ernesto had been to camp, but I know this wasn’t his first year. He was aware of the camp’s expectations for its campers, and he continually made decisions to push the limits with my co-counselor Bradley and I. We had an unusually large cabin that session (10 campers), and there was really no way to keep an eye on every camper throughout the day. By the end of the session, our cabin was at odds with each other, and Ernesto was one of many campers that seemed to always end up at the center of the conflict. I probably broke up more fights within my cabin during that session than I ever had to break up in any other session, and somehow, I always seemed to end up one on one with Ernesto, talking through whatever conflict had taken place that day.
     The conversation that I remember most clearly took place a couple of days before the end of the session. The conflict in our cabin had peaked, and several of our campers had been involved in a situation that almost escalated to punches being thrown. We had to separate the majority of our campers, and I ended up one on one with Ernesto again. We spent the first 15-30 minutes in silence, kicking a soccer ball against a backstop, and just trying to cool down. The frustration from the continual conflict throughout the session had worn on both Ernesto and me, so I really feel like kicking that soccer ball as hard as we could was therapeutic for both of us. But after a time of releasing frustration, and shedding some tears, Ernesto and I shared one of the most meaningful conversations that I experienced in my time at Shiloh. He told me about a sickness that his grandmother (his primary guardian at the time) was experiencing, along with some of the other difficult things that were happening within his family. He told me that he didn’t like being frustrated all the time, and hated reacting out of anger, but that he didn’t know how to react differently. He communicated that he respected me, and that he was sorry for causing conflict in the cabin. And after we had both said, “I love you”, the last comment that I can remember hearing Ernesto say is that he wished he could be more like me.
     Unfortunately, some of the campers, including Ernesto, were sent home from camp early because of the situation that took place that night. I always hated seeing kids leave Shiloh early, but I felt that the conversations that we were able to have had been important. His story came to represent something about Shiloh that has always meant a lot to me. Shiloh is a place of growth. I’ve witnessed it in the campers, and I’ve witnessed it in the staff. You come as you are to Shiloh, and without a second thought, you are loved. I’ve had the opportunity to be on both ends of the spectrum during my time at Shiloh, trying to pour love into those, who like Ernesto, come to Shiloh needing it, and I’ve also received love from the staff and the campers when I probably didn’t deserve it. It’s something that’s hard to understand fully unless you’ve experienced it. But in short, God is love, and if you want to really know God in a deeper way, you should go to Shiloh.  

Tanner Albright 
Shiloh Alumni 2006-2009

Tanner worked at Camp Shiloh from 2006-2009.  He was a Cabin Counselor for his first three summers and served as the Youth Counseling Director his last summer.  He is currently working as the Resident Youth Minister at Central Church of Christ in Amarillo, Texas and volunteers with the Boys and Girls Club of Amarillo.

The Old Blue Bus Goes South

I came to Shiloh in the summer of 1973.  Although coming to work in the year-round program, I came in the middle of the summer, so I worked as a teacher for the two remaining camp sessions.  I fell in love with four boys in one of my classes, and I asked for that age group when I got the East New York area that September. Working in the year-round program and then the summer camp for three years, I had those same boys as fourth, fifth, and sixth graders.

One for my fondest memories is the time we took the kids in our bible class home with us for their Spring Break.  Kimble Forrester took his kids to Nashville, and Kenny Beck, Mary Nell Garner, and I took ours to various cities in Arkansas.  The logistics of the trip were enormous, but we were young and in our first year as year-round workers, and thought nothing of making that trip.  Now, after thirty years of teaching and permission slips, when I think of that trip, I am more than amazed at the trust those parents had in Shiloh.

Kenny Beck and I got our bus drivers licenses to help drive the bus.  That’s another memory of weekends at the Bernardsville camp learning to drive the bus on the back roads, taking the bus to town for dinner, driving to Morristown to take the driving test.

Finally the day came for us to leave and we loaded the Shiloh bus with kids, luggage, and a whole lot of faith and took off.  We drove to Tennessee with stops for gas and food, dropped off the Nashville group, and then headed for Arkansas.  A few days later, we did the trip in reverse.

Somewhere along I-40 there is a sign for Shiloh, a town I suppose.  I have a photo of one of Kimble’s boys in the front of the bus, finding and reading scripture containing the word Shiloh.  We sang, slept, talked, but mostly we laughed all the way there and back.

My boys and I visited all the hot spots in Little Rock, and visited the farm of the parents of my best childhood friend.  Mainly we played: at the big park in town, on my front porch and in my yard.  They were amazed at how big my yard was (actually not all that large), but were also amazed at the fact that the neighbors were never out: sitting on their stoops visiting with each other.  Thirty years later it’s hard to remember all the details of the trip, but I do remember the laughter and fun.

The trip was not without problems.  Twice I had boys to get upset about something and refuse to come with me when it was time to leave.  At the time, I really was in a quandary about how to handle the situation.  However, things worked out both times, and now it’s a story to tell:  “Remember when . . .  wouldn’t get on the bus.”

When the day came to leave Little Rock, my boys put on their new Arkansas shirts, said good-bye to my parents, and got on the bus for the return trip.  Since I kept the bus at my house, we had the longest trip.

When my mom died years later, I found among her possessions a letter written by one my boys thanking her for the great time he had.  I still have the letter and am still in email contact with the boy (man now) who wrote it.

Karyn Blucker

East New York  1973-1976

Karyn Blucker lived in Brooklyn and taught for another year after Shiloh at Risen Christ Lutheran School in East New York.  She later moved to Denton Texas where she taught elementary school until her early retirement two years ago.  

The Very First Summer - 1951

An excited group of sixty college students and a few sponsors came via a Greyhound bus and car caravans to Bernardsville, New Jersey in the early summer of 1951 to the open Camp Shiloh. They stared in awe at the 52 room mansion with a tapestry walled music room and 17 baths—some as large as bedrooms.

As they toured the premises, they were spellbound with its beauty, but heard the cry for cleansing and repair. Exuberant Eddie Grindley shouted with his hearty laugh, urging everyone on with his “we can do it” attitude while handing out buckets of soapy water, hammers and paint brushes.

Noises of hammering, laughter and intermittent wails of pain from smashed fingers echoed across the grounds. Some worked on flooring for tents, others built a kitchen and a dining room in the basement. Still others graciously accepted any chore that called their name. Eddie’s dream awakened into reality.

He’d spent the previous year traveling across the country to raise the money and recruit staff to reach out to the disadvantaged young people of New York City and get them off the streets.
Eddie went to the city in his dilapidated old bus and honked the horn and handed out brochures, offering the street kids an opportunity to get away to the beautiful country-side—away from crime and the hopelessness of street life. They would be transported to a free two week vacation in God’s great outdoors, with an opportunity to play, and learn of a Savior who was willing to die for them.

This gregarious Irishman charmed his followers, arriving with the first bus-load of noisy confusion. They were checked for switch-blades and lice as they got off the bus and assigned to cabins.

I don’t recall any fights the entire summer from these whose life-style had been centered on fighting. Shouts of glee replaced shouts of anger in an atmosphere of peace instead of turmoil.
My husband, Carey Looney, was assigned to go to the farmer’s market several times a week to persuade farmers to either give or sell at greatly reduced prices their left-over produce at the end of the day. Innovative cooks created meals from any and all possible resources.

Bible stories and preaching disclosed how God often chooses the unlikely to accomplish his purposes. Had He not chosen Eddie who was once a drinking, gambling and cheating refugee from Ireland to transform into an example of a beautiful and productive life? Eddie was bent on convincing these youngsters that God also had a plan and purpose for their lives. His legacy lives on.

There were six couples from this group that married as a result of the summer spent together as they shared the common goal of reaching out to unlikely young people. (Carey and I were among those couples.)

Louise Looney
Shiloh Alumni 1951