Half of the camp has to lose. I tried to remind myself of this fact before I embarked on my first Color War experience as a general. My chances of winning are about equal to the chance of a CSL alumnus giving birth to a future Onondagan vs Cayugan. Of course, winning a CW is much less about chance than chromosomal migration is, which is exactly why we ignored our bodies' need for sleep, nutrition, and hygiene in order to organize and plan for a red victory. As I saw our campers dance what must have been the greatest performance in CSL history, and light up what must be the greatest monument to ever stand on CSL land, and to personally trudge through the lake to set off red fireworks in our last event, I had such pride about our team and hope going into the final moments of CW 7. Maybe it was our late victories and inspiring performances that occurred just minutes before our defeat was made public, but when I saw a sky lit by blue I felt nothing but pure heart-break. I was discouraged about what we had done in the previous 60 hours and plain sad to feel responsible for the tearing eyes of so many campers and staff members. As a 25 year old medical student squeezing out her final moments at summer camp, I tried to be mature and appreciative of what we just experienced, but in the moment I felt completely defeated. I am a planner, which is likely how I found myself in this position in the first place, but I did not plan on feeling so paralyzed by a loss. I was not as emotionally prepared for losing at hour 60 as I was at hour 1 when I tried to envision the worst. It was most likely the feeling that I had let so many people down despite how much of myself I gave, combined with pure exhaustion that was leading me toward such immature resentment in the hours post-CW; but days later, as I reflect, losing is perhaps the most insignificant memory I have of this incredible program.
There is a large focus on who wins, who tips the scale, who lights up the sky-- and I understand why that is. But, there is MUCH more to be said for what we accomplish together, the way we push ourselves past our limits, and the beauty of a camp so engaged in 1 single thing. Though these words sound like they are undoubtedly coming from the mouth of someone who certainly did not win, I genuinely believe that CW is so much more than what team gets written on a plaque. It is about the memory of what we accomplished and the feeling of legitimately putting your all into something. In 2013 Red will be remembered for our monument, our performances, our victories on Camp Road and on the tennis court, and all of the events in between. As I spent time looking at pictures and videos from CW I felt so sad that in the moment I let the stress of organizing our team and the pressure of victory overwhelm my ability to see such a perfect program. I had tears in my eyes Tuesday morning with guilt about what I did wrong as a leader, and tears in my eyes Tuesday night with guilt about how I failed to appreciate a sky filled with red and blue luminaries and a dirt road lined by red and blue campers and staff physically pushing themselves harder than they have ever before been pushed. I am so proud to be a part of color war, and so impressed by the programmers and staff who gave us such an incredible program. I am forever grateful for this experience, and can honestly say my heartbreak has been repaired just knowing what the campers truly put in and got out of the last few days despite a well-deserved blue victory.
Forever a part of the CSL and CW family,
Mollie Freedman-Weiss