I love a good nook and/or cranny. They usually hide tucked-away treasures: a cozy reading spot, a cool hole-in-the-wall bar, a pretty rock, a relative’s dramatic diary, a great view, or a moment of peace away from it all.
The older I get, the more I realize the magnitude of nooks and crannies of my home state and community I have yet to explore: the tucked-away towns scattered about Michigan; every shelf of John K. King’s Used & Rare Books; Kalamazoo’s hobbit-themed pizza joint; the remote vineyards of the Leelanau Peninsula; Thai Orchid’s menu options other than N3 (with chicken & no bean sprouts); or even the century-old community asset that resides a short drive from my apartment.
There are countless treasures hidden under our noses, some small and some large, and for me, a big one was Camp Daggett, which is celebrating its 100th anniversary this year. Now, join me in traveling back more than 100 days to when I embarked on this freelance journey.
Via email, a former coworker, whom I briefly worked with at the Petoskey District Library before leaving my structured, public-facing jobs to freelance 85% of the time, introduced me to the grandson of Camp Daggett’s founding executive director, Walter J. MacMillan, better known as Mac. The grandson—Stephen—was working on a project in honor of the camp’s centennial, and it was his sister, Mary, my former coworker, who made the e-introduction back in January.
Here lies my tangential take-note: You never know what paths crossed may yield. Being fellow library assistants and openly sharing about my business led Mary to reach out to me more than a year after I had left the library. Sharing and communicating—the literal word-of-mouth—is, in my opinion, currency of the highest order. Now, back to your scheduled programming.
Stephen needed an editor to review and, yes, edit a book he was compiling on the history of Camp Daggett. From his extensive research and collection of journals, letters, and writings, Stephen was sharing it all—from details about the camp’s namesake and original property owner, Henry R. Daggett, to the modern camp that exists today in its expanded and multifaceted form.
Over the course of five months, which entailed dozens of emails, several phone calls, research, and lots of editing, tweaking, revising, rewriting, and drafting new content, I went from knowing Camp Daggett existed to intimately understanding its value and place in the Northern Michigan community—why its existence was fought for by the communities of Emmet and Charlevoix counties in the early 1900s and why today, fourth-generation campers excitedly return to camp summer after summer until their age phases them out of bunk beds and into guiding roles or maybe, more importantly, into becoming active community members who know the value of putting “The Other Fellow First”—a sentiment and mindset that is in short supply in this day and age, and one that I am proud to say an entity in our community is striving to re-instill in the younger generations.
Now, I kind of lied when I said all I knew about Camp Daggett was that there was a Camp Daggett. For years, I’ve heard parents bemoan that their kids couldn’t go to camp because the spots filled up so quickly. I’ve known numerous individuals—my boyfriend, close friends, and the children of friends and work associates—who have experienced and enjoyed Camp Daggett and all of its offerings, so I knew it was popular. I myself never participated in a camp-away-from-home as a youth, so this job was a crash course in Walloon Lake’s tucked-away treasure.
My closest summer camp experience boils down to watching the Lindsay Lohan Parent Trap remake and camping with my family in the Upper Peninsula on and off during my childhood and young adult life. Having been a homebody-not-yet-hermit in my youth, the concept of going away to camp didn’t jive with my spirit, and the older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve accepted who I am and who I’m not. I have no regrets regarding my summer-camp-less childhood, but I love that others have thrived in the summer-camp life.
Diving into 100 years’ worth of local summer camp history was a major process. And as foreign as the concept and desire are to me, it was a fascinating experience to learn the ins and outs of our region’s impressive and beloved youth camp.
When I’d finished the job, I met Stephen over coffee at North Perk. It was our first face-to-face, and he presented me with a copy of the printed book, which, if you know me, was a big deal. Holding a physical, finished product in my hands—a copy of a newspaper containing my op-ed, a chamber of commerce’s membership directory I crafted, or an actual book I edited—is a feeling that will never get old. The only thing that will top it will be when I hold my finished novel. The cherry on top of all this was spotting Camp Daggett: Our First 100 Years on display and for sale at my favorite bookstore, McLean & Eakin Booksellers.
But even after all this, the journey isn’t over. We’re waiting to hear when/if the article Stephen and I crafted—a condensed camp history—will grace the glossy magazine pages of Michigan History or Chronicle. Only time will tell! I also have a tentative tour of Camp Daggett planned for later this summer. I sadly won’t be able to attend the special birthday celebration on Saturday, August 23—I will be experiencing Creed in Mount Pleasant—but anyone available to participate in a wholesome celebration marking an impressive community milestone should follow the road through the wooded land down to the shores of Walloon Lake and experience Camp Daggett at its peak.
So, when opportunities arise, via email or otherwise, to poke about the nooks and crannies of your community, I suggest you leap at the chance—after all, maybe six feet ain’t so far down; you never know what tucked-away treasures you might discover in your own backyard.
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Monday, August 25