136. Bone Deep – Kasie Jones
Georgia O’Keefe, Ram’s Head, White Hollyhock-Hills, 1935
What meaning would my life hold with no children to guide, no teachers to lead, no parents to ponder?
A few years ago, I was at a turning point. I had just retired from a thirty-year career as a teacher and school principal in Colorado and had returned to my beloved home state of Montana. I had worked my whole life for that moment, only to find myself swinging between exhilaration and terror. What meaning would my life hold with no children to guide, no teachers to lead, no parents to ponder?
When I told my sister Kellie about this, she invited me to volunteer with her as a cook at First Descents, an outdoor adventure camp for young people whose lives have been impacted by cancer. The truth is, I can bake a mean berry pie and host a kick-ass party, I care deeply about others, and after so many years as a teacher, I know how to guide young people to reflect on and to make sense of their lives. Immediately, I was hook, line, and sinker—all in.
On the drive down to the camp that August, I made some wishes. I wished to form a strong bond with the campers. I wished that the campers would come to know my sister Kellie (whose camp nickname is “Flour” and is all about clean eating) and me (aka “Salsa,” all about getting down and dirty with decadent desserts). I wished that everyone would fall a little in love with us and a lot in love with our food. Most of all, I wished for the camp to show me I still had opportunities for serving others.
After we arrived, Flour and I unpacked our vehicles, which were overstuffed with groceries and also an absolute necessity: a “mama’s little helper” in the form of some hooch. Following in the footsteps of Mama Ludden—the first camp cook and mom of First Descents' founder Brad Ludden, who would enjoy a libation before the camp kids descended—I brought some whiskey, tequila, and wine. It was in a bag emblazoned with scripture, and I brought it out to the balcony off my room and tucked it behind an aptly named burning bush plant.
Soon after, I met Suleika, who had a new short haircut and a new nickname: “GI Jane.” She was pale, all bones protruding from her thin frame, but she had the most radiant countenance I had ever seen. She had come to ask if we had any food that might relieve the sores in her mouth from her treatment. It was before dinner, but immediately Flour ran down to the basement for huckleberry ice cream. In that moment, I knew two things: one, my sister could be a badass and break the rules when necessary, and two, I was going to learn more from these young people than they would ever learn from me.
For the next ten days, these campers from all over the world created brilliant memories and buzzed with life in their marrow. They kayaked in the Clark Fork River, then returned for dinner, ravenous from the exertion. I got to know Suleika better, got to enjoy her sweet spirit and made her laugh when I told her I was using the Lord’s words as a decoy for my contraband hooch. It was nothing I thought it would be and everything I needed. My wishes for connection were fulfilled, my heart was full of laughter, and I could stand straight in the knowledge that I had a new personal mission of service toward others.
– Kasie Jones
