Jul 4, 2026 · 19 min · 9 segments
School is out, and Dad, Allison, and Ana head up into the pines for Junior Camp — a week of cabins and campfires, of cold mornings and the smell of pancakes on the wind. Allison arrives with a binder…
It was the middle of summer, hot and green and long, when the church held its junior camp.
A whole week up in the pines for the younger children, with cabins and campfires and so much dust it made you gasp and laugh at the very same time.
Dad was going along as one of the camp leaders, the way the pastor's assistant usually did.
And this year both Allison and Anna were with him.
Allison began packing four days early.
She had a list, naturally.
She had, in fact, the binder, the one that went most places Allison went, and inside it, in her careful hand, was a schedule of the week as she imagined it.
a checklist of everything a person could conceivably need in the pines, and a small hand-drawn map of a cabin she had never laid eyes on, with the bunks already assigned in pencil.
Allison did not go anywhere without a plan, and she saw no reason to start now.
On a pack in something like four minutes, most of which she spent talking about it, On the morning they left, the whole family came out to the porch to see them off.
Ava Grace hugged Anna around the middle and very seriously said, Be a good friend up there, which was a five-year-old's entire theology of camp, and as it turned out, not very far off.
and Andy toddled to the top of the steps, waving both arms and shouting the one word that covered all goodbyes, happy.
Then the car climbed up and up into the pines, the air going cooler and sweeter and sharper with every mile, until the trees closed in tall and green overhead and a wooden sign appeared at the end of a dirt lane, Junior Camp, Welcome.
Camp smelled like pine sap and wood smoke and somewhere pancakes, and it sounded like a hundred children who had just been let out of doors.
There was a wide wooden tabernacle with open sides where the meetings would be held, and a bell on a post that seemed to ring for very nearly everything.
Anna was out of the car before it had entirely stopped.
The girls' cabins sat in a row along the tree line, and Allison and Anna were assigned to cabin seven.
Allison was, frankly, in her element.
Within ten minutes of arriving, she had chosen her bunk, made it up with hospital corners, and begun, gently, helpfully, and entirely without being asked, to suggest to the other girls where their things might go.
She had a plan for the shelf.
She had a plan for the shoes.
She had very nearly a plan for the plans.
Sister Beverly was there too, helping to settle the girls' cabin for the week.
She and Brother Thompson had both come up to volunteer.
It was the middle of summer, hot and green and long, when the church held its junior camp.
A whole week up in the pines for the younger children, with cabins and campfires and so much dust it made you gasp and laugh at the very same time.
Dad was going along as one of the camp leaders, the way the pastor's assistant usually did.
And this year both Allison and Anna were with him.
Allison began packing four days early.
She had a list, naturally.
She had, in fact, the binder, the one that went most places Allison went, and inside it, in her careful hand, was a schedule of the week as she imagined it.
a checklist of everything a person could conceivably need in the pines, and a small hand-drawn map of a cabin she had never laid eyes on, with the bunks already assigned in pencil.
Allison did not go anywhere without a plan, and she saw no reason to start now.
On a pack in something like four minutes, most of which she spent talking about it, On the morning they left, the whole family came out to the porch to see them off.
Ava Grace hugged Anna around the middle and very seriously said, Be a good friend up there, which was a five-year-old's entire theology of camp, and as it turned out, not very far off.
and Andy toddled to the top of the steps, waving both arms and shouting the one word that covered all goodbyes, happy.
Then the car climbed up and up into the pines, the air going cooler and sweeter and sharper with every mile, until the trees closed in tall and green overhead and a wooden sign appeared at the end of a dirt lane, Junior Camp, Welcome.
Camp smelled like pine sap and wood smoke and somewhere pancakes, and it sounded like a hundred children who had just been let out of doors.
There was a wide wooden tabernacle with open sides where the meetings would be held, and a bell on a post that seemed to ring for very nearly everything.
Anna was out of the car before it had entirely stopped.
The girls' cabins sat in a row along the tree line, and Allison and Anna were assigned to cabin seven.
Allison was, frankly, in her element.
Within ten minutes of arriving, she had chosen her bunk, made it up with hospital corners, and begun, gently, helpfully, and entirely without being asked, to suggest to the other girls where their things might go.
She had a plan for the shelf.
She had a plan for the shoes.
She had very nearly a plan for the plans.
Sister Beverly was there too, helping to settle the girls' cabin for the week.
She and Brother Thompson had both come up to volunteer.
The rest of this transcript — segmented and speaker-labeled, so you land on the exact moment something was said
Search every transcript — by keyword, by phrase, or by meaning, across every show Radar indexes
Trends — what is surging across podcasts, measured against its own baseline
Alerts — when a name you follow appears in a newly indexed episode
No account is needed to search Radar.
