When were you at camp?
Summers 89-91.

What was your major and what were some of your minors?
Theater was always my major, my minors were video, photography, animation, crafts, radio.  I think I even did sports one summer.

What was camp like when you were a camper and what are some (is one) of your favorite memories?
Camp was a very laid back, relaxed environment.  One of my favorite parts about camp was just hanging out at the picnic tables in endless conversations with my friends.  It was also a very independent environment where they let us campers take control over our schedules and activities.   For example, one summer, Louise and I were given the opportunity to put on a mainstage production, 'Night Mother’.  For those who know that play, it is a very heavy drama with some serious subject matters.  We did the whole thing on our own and it was a really moving experience.  I will never forget that.

Where are you located and what are you doing for work and fun?
I live in Ridgewood, NJ.  Up until last year, I was a stage manager with the NYC Ballet for about 7 years and freelanced in the theater nationally and internationally for about 10 years total.  I have since left Manhattan for the 'burbs and joined The Creative Group as a staffing agent for creative freelancers.  For fun, I hang out with my daughter, write children's books and just try to find time to relax from my busy work schedule.

How do you think you were influenced by your Appel Farm experience?
I will never forget Appel Farm.  It holds a special place in my heart.  I have kept in touch with some people since then and even reconnected with people on Facebook.  Whenever I was at Appel Farm, I always felt like I was being true to myself.  I always felt most comfortable with who I am when I was at Appel Farm, like the people there really understood me and my passions.  Appel farm gave me an outlet to be creative.  It helped me grow as a performer and an artist through to my adult years.

What advice or suggestions do you have for present day Appel Farm campers?
It's hard to say because there are so many layers to an Appel Farm experience.  First, I have to say always be nice to your bunkmates.  If there is someone in your bunk that may be a little different from the rest of you, just remember that Appel Farm is a very diverse environment with people of different backgrounds and interests.  Always respect individuality.  Artistically, I would say that you have to follow your dreams.  Whatever you love to do most, you can do it at Appel Farm and really take advantage of the opportunities that are put in front of you.  And last but not least, never complain about the camp chores, if you think it's bad at Appel Farm, just wait and see what's in store for you 10 years from now!

Looney Logic
Use your logic skills to sort out who majored in what!

At the recent Appel Farm Camp Reunion, the campers were discussing which majors they had participated in this past summer and what they were hoping to try in the summer of 2008.  James loved majoring in photography this past summer. The person who was a ceramics major now wants to try out dance, but the person who had spent all of their summer dancing does not want to try ceramics. Kevin now wants to or used to major in photography, I can’t remember which.  Becky has never wanted to work with clay. Rachel said very little throughout the reunion, but one camper couldn’t stop talking about the great experience as a technical theater major. Only one person is not changing their major, none of them had the same major as each other last summer nor will they this summer, and they are only going to try majors that were discussed.  Can you determine what major each camper will do this upcoming summer and what they had fun doing last summer?

Check your answers here.

Wordle
Simply say what you see!

What is represented by this wordle?

Stuck? Need a clue?

Send your answer to Cori at cnorth@appelfarm.org!

Camper's Choice

Do you have a puzzle
to share that you think might stump your fellow campers?

Send in your puzzles and we’ll
include them in the next
Cori’s Cranium!

Solstice Perspective

“It’s all a matter of perspective,” a woman told her husband in the movie “Coyote Waits.” “for some people the world is full of hate. For others it is full of love. Same world.

I.

It is gray in the parking lot. It’s the shortest day of the year and the sun is hiding even from a brief appearance. There is no wind—not even a breeze. The trees are standing—bare, stark and silent—dark silhouettes against the dull cloud-covered sky.

I am at the Awareness Shop in New Paltz, New York. I sit in my tiny room waiting for no one to show up for readings. Another wasted day. I have traveled half an hour, used up six dollars in gas for no reason.

I look around at the shabby walls in this suffocating small room. The paint is chipped, faded, and marked up. Next to me, hand painted blotchy silver stars and moons, a beige wall phone and disconnected dead Christmas lights adorn the wall.

In the shop, outside my door,  the tedious strains of Irish music seem to coat the walls. It’s Enya and she go on forever.

The big round clock on the wall ticks monotonously. I can’t get its sounds out of my head.

The old cold snow is turning gray from the exhaust fumes of cars. Its whiteness is also muted by the endless blue gray, blue gray, blue gray. It’s the darkest day of the year.

II.

The small room is filled with the yellow light from the butterfly lamp on the table. Its base is an iron yet delicate butterfly. Its shade is stained glass: a butterfly with orange wings lets the light glow through it. Butterfly light on the shortest day of the year.

My little room is warm from the silent electric heater. Outside it is moist and cold. In the other room an Irish song bounces gently from the speakers and ricochets off the ceiling. It is Enya. The music swirls from the gray windswept coast of Ireland to the gray snow covered landscape of New Paltz, New York, celebrating sadness.

The clock on the wall becomes a metronome for the music. It chunks softly like faraway castanets.

Outside the colors are monochromatic—shades of gray and white. Even the red barn is muted against the pregnant sky. Soon it will snow.

Inside, the yellow/orange butterfly lights up the shiny gold sparkle of my velvet table cloth, the muted pink of my ball point men and the sea green of my ancient fountain pen with the red ink. The water in the clear glass shivers brightly as I write.

Outside there is ice in the parking lot. All moisture is frozen. Inside, in the warm comforting cave of this room I write. Nobody will come today for a reading and I am able to write in my very warm and comforting room.

Today, the Winter solstice marks a rebirth. From now on the days get longer and the sun is reborn.