Back to Camp Chewonki

When I (Andrew) was 13, my parents shipped me off to an 8-week summer camp in the middle of the Maine wilderness.  In hindsight, I have fond memories of the Maine woods and the beauty of God's creation that I experienced there.  But at the time I was not a happy camper.  I think I was most depressed about turning down my position on the baseball all-star team that summer.  A close second to that was the fact my mom took me in for a buzz cut, the one and only of my childhood, the day before leaving for Maine.  I apparently protested by wearing a towel over my head to the dinner table that evening and giving everyone the silent treatment.  I've been thinking back to the pre-Camp Chewonki trip to the barber's as my hair started falling out in earnest a few days ago and I decided to go for a pre-emptive strike...yes, I went in - of my own accord - for a butch cut (1/4" in length).  It's a bit of an adjustment but no towel at the dinner table last evening and lots of good conversation!  I think it's been most noticeable to the kids, who've never seen daddy with super short hair.  Although I can't say I'm thrilled with the new look, I take solace in the fact that the death of the rapidly dividing cells that produce hair should also mean the death of the rapidly dividing cancer cells in my chest.  This is what ultimately matters and what we're praying for each and every day.