Help would be appreciated
Posted: Sun Sep 18, 2011 6:56 pm
I have been working on this thing for a few hours and it doesn't look any better than when I started. I could use some constructive feedback and some ideas on where to take it from here.
“There is too much turkey in this wrap, I am going to fucking kill myself”, these were the words of 13 year old Omari Marlin. As he sat on the park bench next to me glaring as if daring me to speak otherwise I couldn’t help but sigh. It is impossible to not feel sorry for this child who has been in and out of institutions and hospitals for more than half of his life. The remainder of his life is spent living in a dingy apartment in the Bronx with his mother, whose husband has been in jail since Omari turned two. It would have been easy to write off the child that strangles his counselors and hits his peers but then I would have been like everyone else in his life when it is far more satisfying to be the exception.
Sadly, his story is not uncommon amongst those at Camp Ramapo, a summer camp for children with special needs in the Catskill Mountains. The mission of the camp is a difficult concept for most people to grasp. New counselors believe they are there to turn kids like Omari into stand up citizens. This eventually leads to failure and they are overcome with disappointment and confusion. The mission of the camp is far simpler, to provide these inner city children with an accurate portrayal of something they believe every normal child participates in; summer camp. It is balancing this sense of normality while keeping order that creates this unique setting.
I had traveled to New York looking to prove to myself that I could jump into a new environment and succeed. I left Oregon unsure about my future and about my abilities to distinguish myself from my peers. Never had I been tested in the way I was about to be. In a camp where fist fights are a daily occurrence you need to find a happy medium between stopping problems before they arise and having the ability to cope with them once they do happen. By the end of the summer I was frequently looked to by my coworkers as the go-to guy for advice and someone to take over when things got too difficult. This led to me being the supervisor of my own area in my second summer, where I was in charge of 25 people. I am not quite sure who matured more that summer, me or the campers.
My father has been a public defense attorney since opening his practice in Anchorage 25 years ago. He has never once suggested I follow his footsteps, he has never told stories of glorious courtroom debates nor saving the innocent from prison. Instead I heard stories of the corrupt city officials, of the grueling hours, of having to cancel vacations due to trials. So why does he do it? There has to be something deeper, and as I joined him on his trip to Washington DC for his Supreme Court case; Greene vs. Camreta, I found it. No, not in the grandeur of the Supreme Court, but in the eyes of those he was defending, the family who knew they could not be fighting their case if it were not for their lawyer.
Who knows where the children of Ramapo will be in five years, I just know that on the last day of the summer Omari Marlin had tears in his eyes as he embraced me. We had both grown. We might not have been able to change their environment back home, but we gave the kids something to look forward to; next summer.
“There is too much turkey in this wrap, I am going to fucking kill myself”, these were the words of 13 year old Omari Marlin. As he sat on the park bench next to me glaring as if daring me to speak otherwise I couldn’t help but sigh. It is impossible to not feel sorry for this child who has been in and out of institutions and hospitals for more than half of his life. The remainder of his life is spent living in a dingy apartment in the Bronx with his mother, whose husband has been in jail since Omari turned two. It would have been easy to write off the child that strangles his counselors and hits his peers but then I would have been like everyone else in his life when it is far more satisfying to be the exception.
Sadly, his story is not uncommon amongst those at Camp Ramapo, a summer camp for children with special needs in the Catskill Mountains. The mission of the camp is a difficult concept for most people to grasp. New counselors believe they are there to turn kids like Omari into stand up citizens. This eventually leads to failure and they are overcome with disappointment and confusion. The mission of the camp is far simpler, to provide these inner city children with an accurate portrayal of something they believe every normal child participates in; summer camp. It is balancing this sense of normality while keeping order that creates this unique setting.
I had traveled to New York looking to prove to myself that I could jump into a new environment and succeed. I left Oregon unsure about my future and about my abilities to distinguish myself from my peers. Never had I been tested in the way I was about to be. In a camp where fist fights are a daily occurrence you need to find a happy medium between stopping problems before they arise and having the ability to cope with them once they do happen. By the end of the summer I was frequently looked to by my coworkers as the go-to guy for advice and someone to take over when things got too difficult. This led to me being the supervisor of my own area in my second summer, where I was in charge of 25 people. I am not quite sure who matured more that summer, me or the campers.
My father has been a public defense attorney since opening his practice in Anchorage 25 years ago. He has never once suggested I follow his footsteps, he has never told stories of glorious courtroom debates nor saving the innocent from prison. Instead I heard stories of the corrupt city officials, of the grueling hours, of having to cancel vacations due to trials. So why does he do it? There has to be something deeper, and as I joined him on his trip to Washington DC for his Supreme Court case; Greene vs. Camreta, I found it. No, not in the grandeur of the Supreme Court, but in the eyes of those he was defending, the family who knew they could not be fighting their case if it were not for their lawyer.
Who knows where the children of Ramapo will be in five years, I just know that on the last day of the summer Omari Marlin had tears in his eyes as he embraced me. We had both grown. We might not have been able to change their environment back home, but we gave the kids something to look forward to; next summer.