Not far from the State Route 71 Royalton Rd exit is Strongville is a long, wooded drive named Cheerful Lane. At the end of the drive sits an immediate view of a field, a barn and St. Augustine residents nuzzling and kissing the noses of horses. This is Camp Cheerful.
Inside the barn is Dana Carns, smiling ear to ear as she woos the attention of a stalled therapy horse. She looks a bit tired. It’s day four of the five-day camp that’s taken months to coordinate and philanthropize. Though she may be weary, her eyes light up as she tells of the camp’s origin as we sit at a nearby picnic table.
The staff of St. Augustine used to share photos of their vacation travels with residents. “We thought we were doing something good,” as Dana puts it. Residents would know staff better and maybe have a moment of vicarious living. During one sharing session, however, a 40-year-old stroke victim said, “I wish I could go on vacation again.” Other residents chimed in with their “Yea’s” and “Me too’s.” It was like a punch to the gut. The staff brought the comments to the CEO and administrator of St. Augustine. Their response? Make it happen. So they did.
The annual resident vacations began as trips to Lake Hope, and then closer handicap accessible state parks. A caravan of vehicles traveled to cabins, and it wasn’t unusual to see staff sleeping on cabin floors or decks to make room for the residents and their equipment - Hoyer Lifts, oxygen tanks, even a recliner for a resident who preferred that to a bed. The parks were nice, but the staff searched for something better.
Enter Camp Cheerful. Camp Cheerful is an accessible camp designed for children with disabilities, making the grounds, and its 10-minute proximity to St. Augustine, an ideal vacation destination. The camp hosts numerous children’s camps through the warmer months, so it wasn’t an easy get for a few years. But Dana’s persistence proved successful and an agreement was reached for St. Augustine to rent the grounds towards summer’s end after the children’s camps run their course. And now for 20 years, St. Augustine residents travel from the concrete-laden city to the tree-lined paths of Camp Cheerful to go on vacation.
Dana tells of residents’ favorite activities, and one resident in particular made us smile. Every year, he would pack his bags weeks in advance. And every year, he found the perfect spot under an old oak to call his own. Here you could find him reclined in his chair all day, peacefully segueing between naps and cigarettes. Though it doesn’t sound like much to some, to him it was everything. Sometimes it’s the simple things we most easily take for granted.
We found that hunkering down in one spot isn’t that unusual for some of the folks. The fishing hole was a popular spot; a picturesque dock overlooking a shaded pond. Residents and their family members drift over, cast a line, and move on to arts and crafts, music, tai chi or another activity once their luck runs out. But not Jerry and his friend. They park their electric chairs in the dock’s corner from the time they arrive until forced to eat or board the bus to go home. They easily crack jokes, talk about fishing as kids and the fishing places they’ve been. Because of the topic, bragging naturally ensued - from the monster fish of yester-year to the nine fish Jerry caught in one day earlier in the week. They guys were at home.
Dana notes the reduction in anxiety and pain medication requests when residents are at Camp Cheerful. I wonder if it’s the magic of fresh air, trees and nature. Dana acknowledges those benefits, but also notes the experiential feeling of being away. Here they sit by a campfire, roast marshmallows, listen to music and tell stories, and it doesn’t feel like a resident sitting with a caregiver. Here they are just people being with people. Here they are normal.
This feeling of ‘normal’ became clearer as headed to the pool. Though pool time had just commenced, residents were waiting for their turn with the Hoyer Lift. A young man was already in the waters with a life vest flanked with pool noodles while a staff member stayed close by. He was nonverbal, but his face said it all while his wheelchair sat empty on the sidelines. He was free.
Judging by eagerness, I bet another resident waited all day for pool time. She was a double amputee and confined to a chair for mobility. Her smile grew as staff lovingly lifted her from her chair, placed her in the water wheelchair, and rolled her into the pool. They fixed her up with the life vest and pool noodle concoction, and from there she went, floating and smiling, eventually linking up with another resident as they gabbed about their day.
Within view of the cabins some residents overnight in, Dana continues on about the way camp seems to ignite a spark within the residents. While this evidence is clear during our visit, Dana hits it home with a story. A younger woman came to St. Augustine on a ventilator with little expectation to live. She had been shot in the head; a victim of domestic violence. After some time, the staff brought her to camp, where she tearfully smiled when she felt the freedom of the pool, and laughed and danced with staff who felt like friends around the campfire. Her mother wept as she told staff, “I see my daughter again.” The spark had returned. The woman who was given a death sentence came to camp last year, but this time as a visitor. She walked in accompanied with a cane, a smile, and her mother, whom she now lives with, to visit the place that brought back her joy.
Amid the feel-goods, we rebound to reality when Dana talks about the cost of the camp. The staff, food, the rental fees – it all adds up to between $18,000 and $20,000. Vacation is indeed expensive, but St. Augustine refuses to charge the residents or their families. Dana says, “Here, we’re equal. Residents feel normal. What this place does for their dignity and the value it gives back to their life, you can’t put a price on that. This is the right thing to do.” That’s the LeadingAge difference.