"You must have the best job in the world!"
I hear it all the time. And, yes, I do.
But that doesn't mean that it doesn't have its down side.
Last week, my best friend, Holly, visited me. I've known her almost 10 years now. We met as seasonal interpreters in the Tetons - a time that almost seems like summer camp when I look back on it. It was a time when a group of us giddily bonded over cheap beer and the shared experience of doing stressful but rewarding work in one of the country's most beautiful places. You make friends fast in a place like that, and there were a lot of us that worked and played together every day.
When we first got to the Tetons, one of our supervisors warned us to not get too invested in people.
"They'll just leave eventually," she told us.
We scoffed at her. Called her callous and jaded.
But she was right.
Slowly, after one or two or three seasons, my friends stopped coming back. They'd move on to "real" life - a full time job with benefits or a significant other or a place where you could get groceries without having to drive for an hour.
Even Holly left...in search of a different adventure...and eventually a different park.
But I stayed. And I made new friends...who also eventually left. Some came back every once in a while to work another season or just to visit. But I became the one who was "still there". For nine years I watched people come and go.
Until I got tired of being the one left behind.
The Service supports the idea of moving on to move up, and eventually I found a new job. A new place. New responsibilities. A bigger paycheck. All held hope and the promise of something different. Something better. A "real" career. A "real" life.
But you need "real" people to have a "real" life, and in the Park Service, even though the place may change, some things remain the same. The summer camp still happens here in my new park. The seasonals still drink cheap beer and bond over the crazy things visitors say.
Now, though, I'm not part of the summer camp anymore. I'm running the summer camp. And every camp counselor knows that you don't get invested in the campers. You teach them and guide them and act like a proud mama when they do something well. But you don't get attached. They do, after all, leave.
I see now why my first supervisor said what she did. It's hard to watch people you love leave. Even if you know leaving is what's best for them. Whether you've known them for 3 months or 3 years, if you really love them, a little piece of you goes with them. And there's only so many of those pieces you can afford to give out before you start feeling a little empty inside.
Most of the good friends I still have in my life are left over from those summer camp days. We're all in different places now. Different parks. The people who left for "real" life are hard to keep track of...they're too busy doing real life things, I guess..... but those of us who cling to the park life try our hardest to keep in touch. We visit when we can. We call. We send little packages to each other. We love and support each other. But we know it will never be quite the same. We probably won't ever be in the same place again. For us, summer camp is over.
So I have to laugh sometimes when people say, "You are so lucky to have this job!"
Yes, I am. I really am.
But sometimes, especially around the holidays when what I would like most is to have all my friends together in one place, I wonder what it would be like to have a "real" life.
I hear it all the time. And, yes, I do.
But that doesn't mean that it doesn't have its down side.
Last week, my best friend, Holly, visited me. I've known her almost 10 years now. We met as seasonal interpreters in the Tetons - a time that almost seems like summer camp when I look back on it. It was a time when a group of us giddily bonded over cheap beer and the shared experience of doing stressful but rewarding work in one of the country's most beautiful places. You make friends fast in a place like that, and there were a lot of us that worked and played together every day.
When we first got to the Tetons, one of our supervisors warned us to not get too invested in people.
"They'll just leave eventually," she told us.
We scoffed at her. Called her callous and jaded.
But she was right.
Slowly, after one or two or three seasons, my friends stopped coming back. They'd move on to "real" life - a full time job with benefits or a significant other or a place where you could get groceries without having to drive for an hour.
Even Holly left...in search of a different adventure...and eventually a different park.
But I stayed. And I made new friends...who also eventually left. Some came back every once in a while to work another season or just to visit. But I became the one who was "still there". For nine years I watched people come and go.
Until I got tired of being the one left behind.
The Service supports the idea of moving on to move up, and eventually I found a new job. A new place. New responsibilities. A bigger paycheck. All held hope and the promise of something different. Something better. A "real" career. A "real" life.
But you need "real" people to have a "real" life, and in the Park Service, even though the place may change, some things remain the same. The summer camp still happens here in my new park. The seasonals still drink cheap beer and bond over the crazy things visitors say.
Now, though, I'm not part of the summer camp anymore. I'm running the summer camp. And every camp counselor knows that you don't get invested in the campers. You teach them and guide them and act like a proud mama when they do something well. But you don't get attached. They do, after all, leave.
I see now why my first supervisor said what she did. It's hard to watch people you love leave. Even if you know leaving is what's best for them. Whether you've known them for 3 months or 3 years, if you really love them, a little piece of you goes with them. And there's only so many of those pieces you can afford to give out before you start feeling a little empty inside.
Most of the good friends I still have in my life are left over from those summer camp days. We're all in different places now. Different parks. The people who left for "real" life are hard to keep track of...they're too busy doing real life things, I guess..... but those of us who cling to the park life try our hardest to keep in touch. We visit when we can. We call. We send little packages to each other. We love and support each other. But we know it will never be quite the same. We probably won't ever be in the same place again. For us, summer camp is over.
So I have to laugh sometimes when people say, "You are so lucky to have this job!"
Yes, I am. I really am.
But sometimes, especially around the holidays when what I would like most is to have all my friends together in one place, I wonder what it would be like to have a "real" life.
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