The following story first appeared in the Spring 2000 Glenmary Challenge.
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Camp Glenmary
Four Weeks of Summer Magic
by Danny Duncan Collum

Maureen Ginnane (above), a volunteer counselor from Fordham University, joins campers for a quiet time-out from the Mississippi sun.  Photo by Susan Stevenot Sullivan. For more information about volunteering as a counselor, contact: Father Tim Murphy, St. Francis of Assisi Church, Box 134, Aberdeen, MS 39730, or phone 662-369-2897.

The gravel road to Camp Glenmary is rough and rutted and all uphill. The higher you go, the rougher it gets. Finally, at the top of the hill is the camp, a collection of cinder-block buildings scattered among tall oaks and pines, owned by the Presbyterian Church of America.

The camp was peaceful and still when I arrived. Then suddenly a swarm of 8- to-13-year-old boys and girls—white, black and Hispanic—erupted from the humble buildings with bathing suits and towels. It was 2 p.m.—swimming time. With a flash and a shout, all 60 children and their counselors were loaded into a caravan of church vans and private vehicles, bumping down the hillside to cool off in the Tombigbee River which runs below the camp.

Camp Glenmary was established in the early 1970s by Father Larry Goulding and other Glenmary priests, brothers and lay missioners who were working among the African Americans and poor whites of Northeast Mississippi. It was started as a place where Mississippi children, Catholics and others, could enjoy interracial fellowship at a time when the legal barriers of segregation were just coming down in the state. 
Today Glenmary takes over the old Presbyterian camp every year for four weeks in June. The first two weeks are called Camp Friendship. These weeks are focused on needy children, mostly African Americans and poor whites. Most of the kids at Camp Friendship are not Catholic. They have Christian prayer services and receive moral formation. But mostly they get love and adult attention—and a chance to play games and swim.

The next two weeks are Catholic Camp. These weeks are open to all, but are designed especially for the children of Mississippi’s tiny Catholic minority—white, black and Hispanic. Camp gives these children a chance to be with other Catholic kids and, for once, not be “the weirdos.” At Catholic Camp the children receive support for the development of their faith—and a chance to play games and swim.

Most elements of camp are the same for the two sessions. They all have swimming and sports, skits, a talent show, a dance, hiking and arts and crafts. (When I visited in the summer of 1998, the camp was alive with colorfully painted gourds.) The camp can hold 60 children for each week, and the sessions fill up quickly.

Father Tim Murphy, pastor of St. Francis of Assisi Church in Aberdeen, Miss., is the director of the camp. His parish gives him up for four weeks every year. Father Steve Pawelk, pastor of Glenmary churches in New Albany and Pontotoc, Miss., recruits the volunteer staff. Amy Giorgio, lay pastoral coordinator of St. Luke the Evangelist Church in Bruce, Miss., recruits the campers. Both Amy and Father Steve spend a lot of time on-site in June.

Asked why Camp Glenmary works, Father Tim says, “Camp is magic. It offers children from all walks of life true equality. There’s no better bunk bed. The food’s the same for everybody. Everybody is equally hot. And everybody helps. Everyone gets a chance to lead and to teach—to help others. It gets the kids away from TV and radio and air conditioning and into the natural world of shade trees and worms and forests. And the kids love it.”

In addition to surrendering their priest, parishioners from Aberdeen cook for the kids every Wednesday. Under the supervision of Kelly Tucker, a retired FBI agent and Catholic convert, a crew prepares huge vats of fried chicken, corn on the cob and hush puppies. The Catholic owner of the McDonald’s franchise in Amory donates lunch every day for Camp Friendship.

Camp counselors, cooks and activity directors come from as far away as Nebraska and Canada and as close by as New Albany. I met a group of 12 volunteers from Fordham University in New York and another group of five from St. Mary’s College in Minnesota. One of the local Catholics was heard to quip, “The last time we had this many Yankees down here y’all were stealing our chickens.”

The point of the camp, of course, is the kids. What do they have to say? When I visited Camp Glenmary I collected random responses to the question, “What do you like best about Camp Glenmary?” Here’s what I heard:

“Sports!” “New friends!” “Swimming!” “Having fun!” “Being yourself!” “Swimming! “Soccer!” “Sports!” “Seeing the sunrise from The Point at 6 a.m.”

“The Point” is a beautiful hilltop overlook at the end of a trail through the woods away from the main part of the camp. There is a small outdoor chapel that looks out over the Tombigbee River and miles of forest and farmland.

As I did my survey, several kids came up quietly and said that what they liked best about camp was “Catholic Corner.” “What is Catholic Corner?” I asked.

“It’s where we learn more about our faith,” one boy said. “And about being closer to God,” a girl added.

“Catholic Corner” is a daily feature of Catholic Camp. As the name indicates, it teaches the children elements of their faith and Catholic history and tradition, with lessons geared to the different age groups. The children also plan liturgies, make altar cloths and design skits to dramatize the Gospel readings. Mass is celebrated every night except Wednesday, which is a reconciliation service.

I happened to visit on a Wednesday. After the chicken dinner, just before dusk, the campers gathered under a pavilion in the woods. The Gospel for the day was read, “Judge not lest you be judged.” Groups of kids acted out scenes illustrating the message. In one a teenager was cruelly “dissed” for wearing cheap and unfashionable clothes. In another a homeless beggar stood up to reveal himself as Bill Gates in disguise.

After the dramatizations, Father Steve gave a brief and informal homily, full of references to contemporary kid culture, in which he urged the campers to search their hearts for the ways they failed to love in the past week. Then Father Steve and Father Tim stood, at some distance, in a clearing surrounded by trees, to hear individual confessions.

The children were silent and solemn. Most came forward to confess and virtually all were caught up in the spirit of the moment. After receiving a penance the kids filed away. Later there was a bonfire, and a program of skits put on by the younger children. Then off to bed.

No one at Camp Glenmary gets paid. The Glenmary Missioners run the camp on top of their regular full-time duties. The counselors, cooks and activity leaders pay their own travel expenses and a $50 fee for the privilege of spending a hot, dirty week surrounded by Mississippi bugs and snakes, and beautiful children. 
One night, during the final week of Catholic Camp, Father Tim reminded the children that many of the camp workers could be getting a lot of money for the time they volunteer. 
“Why do they come here?” Father Tim asked.

“To be with me!” a small Hispanic girl proudly answered.

“She got the point,” Father Tim said. “That’s what Camp Glenmary is all about.”

Danny Duncan Collum is a freelance writer who lives with his wife, Polly, and their three children in Mississippi.