I was nine years old when I first started attending Camp Nyoda. From the moment I sprinted into Wapomeo, and threw my pillow down on a top bunk, I knew I was home. For 7 years, I continued to do the same run, year after year. Despite the bungalow changing every year, that wonderful childish sense of excitement, as I sprinted with my pillow as fast as my legs could carry me, never changed. Each year, as soon as the summer was over, and my parents would drag me out of 136 Cozy Lake Road, kicking and screaming, I would start the countdown until I was back on that dirt road, holding my pillow again.
My final summer at camp was in 2009, after I completed my third year as a swimming counselor. In the years following, I continued to cherish the memories of my 10 summers at camp. I often found myself singing “Butterfly” or “Remembering Love” in the shower, and tended to go on an a rant about camp, especially when I met someone with a young daughter, hoping they would be able to experience the same magic I found there.
In 2017, my family and I had one of the toughest years of our lives. In February 2017, my, then, boyfriend lost his father, very unexpectedly. Realizing how valuable time with your loved ones is, he proposed to me in June. The joy of our engagement was short lived, when, in September 2017, my sister passed away, also very unexpectedly.
This is not meant to be a sad story, but I share this piece of information, to show how Nyoda continued to bring joy, not only to my life, but to the lives of my entire family. Upon returning home from my sisters funeral, I immediately threw myself into wedding planning. Although some would say that it was a way to distract myself from my recent loss, my biggest motivation was simply to have our families gather together for a joyous event. Our families had shed too many tears over the year, and we were all in desperate need of a happy celebration. As the happiest years of my life were spent at Camp Nyoda, I could think of no better place to have my wedding than at 136 Cozy Lake Road.
As the happiest years of my life were spent at Camp Nyoda, I could think of no better place to have my wedding than at 136 Cozy Lake Road.
My fiancé and our parents were both a little apprehensive about having the wedding in the woods. Regardless, I pushed them both to visit, assuring everyone it would be a classy affair. I remember my fiancé arriving at Camp, and, after staring out at the lake from the top of the hill, he just looked at me with a smile and said, “Yep, this is it”. He could see how remarkable, and beautiful Nyoda was, and we booked it without even looking at any other venues.
The invitations went out, and almost immediately our guests started speculating about how our Camp Wedding was going to play out. No one really knew what to expect, and, to be honest, I didn’t know what to expect. Would it rain? Be too hot? Or cold? Should guests wear bug spray? Would we be able to have the ceremony outside? Or would the chairs sink into the ground? Would the ground be flat enough for the flooring to be placed down, without creating a tripping hazard? All I could do was hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.
The entire week leading up to the wedding was rainy, humid, and overcast, and much to my dismay, that was the weather forecast expected for the day of my wedding. People were emailing me, asking about rain boots and inquiring about alternate rain plans. I was nervous. This was the only wedding my parents were ever going to have for a child, and I couldn’t bear to think about it being anything less than perfect.
I don’t know if it was Wocanda, or Brian’s Father, or my Sister, but someone was looking out for us on our wedding day. Despite the forecast, there was not a cloud in the sky. As I drove down the driveway, I was overcome with that same childish excitement I would get as a kid, getting ready to run to my bungalow. Stepping out of the limo, I saw everything, exactly as I dreamed it would be. We had a massive white tent, sitting where the picnic tables used to be. In front of the dining hall, we parked Brian’s fathers antique Corvette convertible, with a bottle of corona placed on top of the engine, as a toast to his father. Walking down the hill, I saw Adirondack chairs scattered across the grass, for guests to lounge in, and as I looked to the left, the firepit in the Maples was prepped for a bonfire. Down outside the canoe shed, 70 chairs were lined up next to the lake, leading up to an arbor Brian had built for us to get married under. Beneath the arbor, stood a greek pillar, with my sisters Maid of Honor bouquet sitting on top of it. Everything was perfect.
The rest of the day was incredible. Everyone proceeded to binge on BBQ, smile, laugh, and dance the night away. I know its cliché to say, but it really was a magical day. One moment in particular, which I will forever cherish, was about 2 hours into the reception: I went to go sit down, after dancing for 2 hours straight, and as I looked out onto the dance floor, I see both of my parents, dancing like nobody was watching, along side Brian and his mother. My biggest hope was that Nyoda would make people as happy as it made me, and looking at my new bigger family boogying on the dance floor, I knew the spirit of Nyoda was alive and well.
Claire Goater and Steph DeLancey, Tiamalia 2006
