tim’s thought property

Each week of the summer, at camp, we have a theme meal. The staff make decorations, pretty-up the lodge, and everyone gets into costumes. It’s a wonderful excuse to have fun, without having to explain yourself too much.
At the start of the summer, we, as a staff group, decide what the week’s themes will be during the rest of the summer. For the last few years, Pirate theme has been a staple, and I (as you may recall) have a soft spot in my heart for these characters.
Anyways, this year we had Pirate theme again. It was the beginning of July and the week was suffering a lot of unclear scheduling, due to the relative “new-ness” of the whole job to me. So, in appropriate reflection, the theme was well suited since Pirates operate pretty pell-nell, and that’s kind of how the week felt. Also, I have a beard, and so did most pirates.
The next theme was a Sports theme, that was mainly voted so World Cup fans could dress up and shout. And that’s what happened. We had a lot of angry Soccer fans that week, since Italy won and many wanted the first week of camp to be Sports theme. But I explained the piracy of it all, so it fits. Besides, the campers really were into soccer that week; we had two avid footballers from Colombia, and they took the staff to town with their skill.
Medieval theme followed, with a bunch of Girls-Only campers dressed up as princesses. Many of the female staff were garbed in their grad dresses and all that sort of dainty wear. A few of us guys had made box armour and were looking quite gallant. Come to think of it, having 48 female campers, from 10-12, it was very much like a “princess” week. Much pink and rhinestones. It wasn’t all bad - they invited Tim C and I to their Dance-Off; and although it wasn’t judged, I think he and I won for best routine.
Now, when some themes are very similar, amalgamation is common. That would explain Dinosaur-Jungle-Beach theme. It’s simple, really. Palm trees existed with dinosaurs, and they are at most tropical beaches, and jungles. That was the unifier. It was really open ended, with people dressing as anything under those categories. Having freshly watched Jurassic Park, I went as a Paleontologist, but was sorrowfully confused with a cowboy. I suppose Dr. Alan Grant was a poor choice, next to wearing my bathing suit and flip-flops. But that was a really hot week, just like the Jungle, Beach and the time when Dinosaurs roamed the earth.
Chronicles of Narnia was our fifth week’s theme. I was hoping to have an abundance of fur coats to give out, but no such luck. We had kids in smart looking sweaters and such, and much of the staff as the Pevensies, dryads, princesses and the like. I went as Mr. Tumnus, complete with my own authentic body hair. I was really uncomfortable wearing a scarf without a shirt. How does this theme compare with the week? I’m not sure….perhaps it was more of a magical week..?
International theme was next, and that was more of learning experience for everyone. Each table was a designated country with a flag, and there were maps and landmarks painted on the walls. A row of flags decorated the balcony, and many people were dressed ethnically - Indian, Dutch, German, Irish. Because it was a Junior High age-group, it was easier for the campers to learn about, say, Palau, or South Korea than it would for an eight-year old.
Finally, we had Literary Character theme. I was bouncing ideas around for weeks - Captain Ahab, Ernest Hemingway, Huck Finn, Big Brother, Mr. Tumnus - but I settled on the boy from Where the Wild Things Are. And lucky me, someone else had the exact same idea. We also had doubles of Pippy Longstocking and Treebeard. Go figure, with millions of literary sources to choose from, some of the most obscure ones get reproduced. But it was a nice closer to the summer. We made activity groups with the names of authors, and it was a riot to have the Dantes and the Brontes go to the Pool; and to have campers call their group the “Dog-stoy-et-skiis”.
It was a funderful good time this summer. Next year - Space theme. Will I be Spock, Chewbacca or a Dwarf Planet?

This is a picture of R.T. as one of the Ents.
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The joys and trials of the last ten weeks are now fading away, into the back of my memory.
It was a long piece of time, something that removed me from all the coffee I served; all the winter snow; all the bleakness of paying off debt - three months that gave me some kind of bigger purpose. Or at least a purpose that was specific. I had to learn how to adapt to a new position, how to manage a role of responsibility. I had to cope with having to talk to parents of campers who didn’t shower all week; or had lost their toothbrushes. I had to wring my hands and stand achingly awkward at registration, with my little plastic name-tag, waiting for parents to ask me questions. I had to listen by as campers with lice had to get checked and instructed how to get treatment, so they could return to camp. I had to manage an activity schedule, with no set formula - a different allotment each week, with each group hopefully getting to go swimming three times a week.

Every morning I’d awake at 6:40 or 6:45 and grind up some coffee beans to make some rich, french-press coffee. By mid-July, I would not even recall that I had once done this thing each day - made coffee. Well, made it for people and pay. Nowadays, it was to cope with being up so early. I would just stare as the beans ground into smaller pieces, emptying out into a removable tray that I could then mix with hot water and trudge back upstairs to have morning devotions.
I’m never one-hundred percent in the morning, not even close to nine percent. I need my time to wake up, and I’m even less of a conversationalist at 7:00am. So in my seat I would sit, with my press next to me, and my coffee cup in hand, staring out in front of me, trying not to think of the bed I had just left. When my press was ready, down the plunger would go, and into my cup I would pour it. A few other souls, namely Tim C and Rachelle would take the remainder of coffee, or else I’d be nursing a french press all to myself until 9:00am.

Each summer, the staff have a chance to make a statement of unity and each summer it is different. One year it was fimo bracelets; last summer it was custom buttons, for the benefit of cool name tags. This summer the leadership had concurred to have unique coffee mugs be the staff unifier. Whatever was left over from the summer would then be donated to the camp for their year-round use.
I had amassed a small collection of mugs throughout the summer, and continued my daily vigil on the balcony each morning, sipping from the various ones in my possession.
I had bought two steins from the MCC relief sale earlier in the summer, so Tim C and I had impressive water mugs to use. I found two of the flaming red mugs at a Goodwill store, and so purchased them with the hope that I would be able to claim one during the summer. Mid summer, I found a real gem - a mug with a moustache protector. Being the only summer long staff with any semblance of a moustache, this one also became my own. By the middle of August, during a time where I had lost my red mug, I acquired the “I-lost-my-Ass-in-Las-Vegas” mug, which I unassumingly brought to breakfast one morning. It was all well and good until a seven year-old asked what it meant. Being slow on my toes in the morning, I mumbled something about it being a novelty mug from Vegas, where many people lose their donkeys. The final mug to grace my cupboard at home is a small flowery tea-cup, which has been used only for tea. …Which means it hasn’t been used too often.

These days, I’m still grinding a press each morning, although it’s only half of one. I can’t justify a whole eight cups to myself. I still use the red mug, whose bottom is never cleaned. The dregs stay put until the next morning and mingle with the fresh beverage. I have no balcony to look down from, to decide where to sit each morning, but I do get to hold on to that little cup of comfort each morning…and that’s still pretty good.

As I was mowing the lawn the other day, Sean Connery came to mind, it got me thinking. One of the most recognisable icons of cinema in the past four decades, has ceased his acting career. I wish it wasn’t so. I decided to write a letter, only I’m not sure where to send it, so I’m putting it in the blogsphere.

To Sir Sean Connery,

As a relatively young man of twenty-one years of age, I can only understand part of the scope of your career. Having seen perhaps one-sixth of your films, and learning about the rest from the Internet Movie Database; I admit to being out of my depth. Not having acted outside of high school, I am out of my depth. Meddling in your own decisions is, perhaps, out of my depth. But, as a fan of your work and talent, I feel I must grieve these points I am about to make.
To retire from acting is reasonable, logical and noble. Yet to finish your body of work, your longest career on a sour note, I feel is all too tragic. What happened to the man who was Bond; to Indiana Jones Sr.; to the owner of that completely recognisable Scottish accent?
I can understand the mounting frustration that you may have with Hollywood and the movie industry. It angers me too.
There are so many well written scripts, ideas and stories that just yearn for the proper funding or distribution, but more and more low-end dredge is pandered out to the masses of “entertainment only” audiences.
You have been on record for passing on parts to two of the more financially successful franchises in the last ten years, and I can see the irritation at the missed opportunity. Yet, you have built a large repertoire of screen and stage performances, why must you leave the screen with the memory of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen burnt into our minds? Sir Connery, you have shown us that you have the capacity for so much more. Don’t let the last few years of cinematic down-turn cause you to throw in the towel right this moment.
I strongly urge you to re-examine your decision to quit now.
I believe that you need a last tour de force in which to leave on.
I think that you have within you the ability to leave your career with a memorable, powerful and masterful performance.

Sincerely,
Timothy Joel Dyck

*note: this post was written all the way back in June, and then shelved. For the record, I am now twenty-two. … But I still think we need one or two more Connery films before he decides to quit.*

For your viewing pleasure, there are four pictures of the more than three hundred I’ve taken so far:

This one was taken at the Assiniboine Park flower gardens, right next to the Sculpture garden.

At my first real trek to the barn all summer, and I got to help the kids learn how to groom the horses. This one is Vegas.

Also at Assiniboine Park, this is one of my favourite sculptures, I have, in the past, wrestled the statue of two bears wrestling.

And finally, one of the features of the camera is Monochromatic, and as you can see, bottles of dark beer look rather imposing without the softening nature of colour.

There shall be more to come in the next weeks, I can assure you.
Perhaps I will be able to add more pictures to words in this coming year of blogging, and perhaps there can be more of a focus to this mad experiment in creativity.

Investments, investments, investments.
This is my newest acquisition. It is a digital SLR.
I’m doing well at Camp, it’s been about seven weeks for me. There have been so many new responsibilities to learn and so many more subtleties to leadership that I was unaware of. What can I say? I’ve never felt comfortable with being a leader, and I’ve often doubted if I even am suited to be one. But I’ve come to the conclusion that I can only do so much, even with what I’ve learned up to now. Where my faculties end, there is where GOD comes in and gives me the means to do the rest.
So there you have it. I’m learning to be a servant. I’m doing what I am able, and I am doing what GOD has called me to be doing at this time.
Does anyone want their picture taken?

I have been a blogger for just over a year now.
With many different topics written about, and many different pictures shown, I feel that this crazy exercise in free-lance journalism and creative writing is only starting. Looking back, I can see that much of the content was un-proofed, and more often than not, written quickly and in one sitting.
I have much more to learn about the blogosphere, once called “the world’s largest echo-chamber“. Perhaps this year I will begin to actively improve my writing. We shall see. As a child begins to walk by a year old; so too shall my blog take steps. Where to, you ask? To the unknown, most definitely, but it is only that since I have not planned a destination.

So, I’m glad many of you read this, (those who comment and those who don’t) and I thank you for the support and encouragement.