Preparing for Camp Barney!

When I am at Camp Kudzu, my nails are green (fingers & toes), most pictures of me feature face paint, morning coffee is a mile away, I feel I haven’t slept through a single night in years, my plate often bounces while I’m trying to eat, my sports tracker shames me because I sleep for days when I get home (seriously), and yet, I still wait, impatiently, each year for it to come again. The crux of it is: Kudzu is my “gas station.” 

Kudzu has, for two decades, been an energy supply for many, myself included. It is my “gas station.” I have no doubt that the energy originates in our campers as they arrive that first time and grows stronger every time they return. When we return to camp each summer, we reconnect and our tanks fill. Like the kudzu plant, we need energy to survive, and it is the return of our campers and former camper-staff that powers our Kudzu World. Selfishly, perhaps, I am so very glad they keep coming back because I need to keep filling up. 

Every session I tear up (embarrassingly often) when I watch our former “little kids” take the lead, become a Clinician, Head Staff, or make a camper smile. Nothing exemplifies Kudzu more perfectly, or fills my tank faster, than watching a former camper sitting on the ground with a current camper sharing a teaching moment, seeing a new camper discovering their “people,” or watching a camper learn that singing is a High Impact Activity at Kudzu. It happens every day, every session, every year: the tanks fill. Grins fly by in Omega and tie-dyed fingers and clay handprints appear at lunch: the tanks fill. Arrows fly a first time and the music party prep blows the fuse (again): the tanks fill. New pump sites and injection firsts bring an enormous dancing syringe to the microphone as a line that almost doesn’t fit in the dining hall forms: the tanks fill.

As we journey through the year, the energy can wane, but with every text sent, lancet found months later, unexpected camp song played, phone call made, or meal shared, the mileage left in our tank is increased. I thank the universe daily that my pancreas and insulin have their game together—an endocrine system that crushes its job. Camp Kudzu is my gas station, a place where I am a minority—a Muggle—where busted pancreases are the norm, and every day is “leg day.” Selfish, I know, but I’ll keep coming back to fill up, and I only hope that the tanks I help to fill carry others throughout the year and bring them back to the “Kudzu Gas Station” year after year. 

Kalina Irina Haynes

I think we can all agree that it has been a long 18 months. We’ve had to wear masks, be extra vigilant about hygiene, and keep our distance. Distance is something I don’t do well when it comes to family, and I am sure you can relate to my devastation of being forced away from the family I’ve spent every summer with since 2003.

I am very grateful for texts, emails, and virtual calls I shared with my Camp Kudzu family during the pandemic. It wasn’t the same as the hugs and one-on-one conversations, but I appreciate all of the social distance support that Kudzu is so good at giving everyone in its family. The distance has also made me appreciate the reconnections to come in 2021. I missed the parents dropping off campers, first year camper jitters, young campers attempting to dress themselves, bug spray, spirit checks, rocky road ice cream, and most importantly the place where I can empower people and where people can empower me.

I’m raising a juice box to my 18^th year as a volunteer with Camp Kudzu. Many parents & guardians have given us the privilege of caring for their children for 22 years now. I look forward to meeting the new campers, parents, volunteers, and more, so that until there’s a cure: “We’ve Got Diabetes Covered.”