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Larissa Thoin
Dr. DiSarro
Writing 101
Section 05
Dedicated Dreamer
Shes gone. Sixteen years of vibrant, red haired, freckle-faced life; just gone. Snuffed like the
strong embers that kept the campfires going long into the summer nights, what feels like, so many years
ago. Cassie became one of the thousands of people who die every day in the US, but she was the first
person any of us had known to die of our common curse. There will always be people who speculate
negatively about Cassie and her condition as some choose to call it. Was it the way she put her health
on the bottom of her priority list? Was it the partying? After all it had been only a couple of weeks after
New Years Eve when she was found on the hardwood floor of a friends home in California, and was
admitted to the hospital in a dull, comatose state. Or maybe it was just a problem that Cassie had chosen
not to share with the world? One that she would take to her grave, one that had lead her down this final
path. I met Cassie when I was ten years old, in a place that served as a safe haven for thousands of kids
like us and brought magic into our lives. Everyone starts their own story at Clara Barton Camp, this is my
beginning.
North Oxford, Massachusetts is a small town outside of Worchester, full of forest and quaint little
homes with one eternally recognizable landmark at the end of the road leading to Clara Barton Camp. The
first year we drove past that towering white church I was ready for anything and hoping for the best.
What I ended up with was a bunch of girls who didnt want to accept me into their already formulated
friendships. Even at ten years old these girls knew that I was shy and vulnerable. Being the stubborn kid
that I have always been I was determined to succeed, so the next summer I set out to experience
everyone and everything.
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The long line of cars seemed endless on check in day. The log cabins stood in a strong line that
curved along the edge of camp deep into the woods, mimicking the line of cars waiting to drop off the
girls that would live within their walls for the next two weeks. As we pulled up to the women in fun neon
pink and green tie-died staff t-shirts I noticed the clip boards they clung to. Anxious to find out my cabin
assignment I could feel my muscles shaking and tensing then shaking again with excitement and nerves. I
was no longer in Shangri La, this year I would live in Rainbow Ridge, nestled between Shangri La, which
held the 9, 10, and 11 year olds this year and Tarpey, which housed the 5 through 8 year olds. Tarpey is a
long, grey cabin with two large rooms for the girls on either side, two smaller rooms for the counselors, a
common room, and a large bathroom in the middle. Like Rainbow Ridge and three of the cabins across
the little foot bridge on the other side of the lake, Shangri La had a basement for the healthcare team, a
ground floor for nine of us girls and a single bathroom, and a loft for our counselors. Campers are never
allowed more than three steps up the ninety degree staircase because we are supposed to respect the
counselors space. When I walked through the front door of Rainbow Ridge I immediately noticed that the
rungs of the stair railing were painted vibrantly in the colors and pattern of a rainbow and the cabin was
built of large towering logs. The stairs were centered in the space with the bathroom adjacent to the top
of the basement stairs, there were three beds lining the wall that faced the stairs, one butted up against
the stairs, and a line of five more beds lead from the door to the back porch and wrapped around the
corner behind the bathroom. I chose the bed closest to the back door.
After all of the girls had arrived, unpacked, and our parents had left our counselors brought us
out onto the back porch for a game of two truths and a lie. Sitting around the graffiti laden picnic table
with these girls I could already tell that it was going to be a much better summer this time around. Next
to me sat two best friends from Needham, Caroline a tall, strong, blond haired, blue-eyed, girl wearing a
warm pink braced smile had been diagnosed with type I diabetes in elementary school. Erica, a petite
Pilipino girl across from me, had short, honey colored hair and kind, deep brown eyes, had been
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diagnosed just a two years after Caroline. (Four years later Ericas eighteen year old brother would be
diagnosed with type I leaving her little sister the only one in the family without it). Maggie, a girl from DC
tall and strong with medium length dark hair, chubby cheeks, and freckles sat on my other side. Her
friend Ellie across from me was tall and chubby with rich Puerto Rican skin that had been tanned by the
summer sun, also had medium length dirty blond hair and hazel eyes. The two always flew in from
Virginia together for the chance to be with other diabetics for two weeks a year. Cassie leaned against the
porch railing reciting her two truths and a lie, a soft warm breeze blowing her red hair back around her
heavily freckled cheeks. She had flown all the way here from California to spend the summer with her
father in Massachusetts. Carly, good God, Carly. The extremely tall girl with the cutest chubby cheeks,
glasses, and dark brown hair, who had proceeded to call a cabin meeting just before this one to
demonstrate the proper way to wipe down the toilet BEFORE and after using it, had just walked out onto
the porch following a thorough inspection and cleaning of the entire cabin. And lastly there were the two
Danielles one short with very dark, very curly hair, who was so obsessed with checking her blood sugar
that shed checked seventeen times before afternoon snack. The other, a bit mellower, was pear shaped,
pale, and shy at first. She had long strawberry blond hair, a round face, and bright blue eyes. Walking
behind the back cabins toward opening campfire we linked arms and chatted about the dance at Camp
Joslin that was only two days away. We ducked under the no trespassing sign one by one and walked
silently over the soft pine needles toward the circular clearing among forty/fifty foot pine trees. We sat
together as a cabin breathing in the sweet summer air that was slowly growing hazy with the smoke from
the crackling fire.
As we grew older the bond we shared grew stronger until the year we lived in Lagoon Lodge. The
nine of us had rearranged the beds so that we could easily sit together and talk about the few days we
had left together this time. We were all going into high school the next year and were talking about what
we expected, the pros, the cons. Cassie was sitting silently wrapped in her blanket, tonight was
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exceptionally cold as the summer rain was pummeling the earth outside and the heat had lifted from that
afternoon. It felt like we had been sitting there for hours and in truth we probably had, no one needed to
check their pump for the time it was easily 2am. All of a sudden Cassie looked up and said, Im not
coming back. I cant. And she didnt. Her parents could no longer afford the airfare to send her east each
summer and she wanted to pursue cheerleading. Most of us never heard from her again but she and
Carly had become extremely close this summer and stayed in touch for a couple of years.
Fastforward through Tuesday Dance Nights at Camp Joslin, camp crushes, color wars, canoeing,
trips to the local beach, cinema, Hike to heck (a three mile hike with a mile and a half trek through 5ft
deep mud trail), Counselor In Training year, Wonderwall, beginning high school, picking out colleges,
struggling with body image, owning ourselves as individuals and a group, and finally growing into
adulthood on our own. Two years after we had all said our final goodbyes, news reached the east coast.
Cassie had been in a coma due to complications from diabetes. She hadnt made it. To this day I am still
shocked, and numb when I think about her, us. These eight girls and a few more were the ones that I
would wait 11 months to see every year. The ones who were always there to hug me the first day like
we had never been apart. The girls who are now scattered across the continental US, who know me, the
ones that know where I come from, how I grew up. I am ashamed to say that I didnt know Cassie as well
as some of the others but losing her leaves a small whole in my childhood. The kind of whole that looks
harmless at first glance, but upon closer observation it is apparent that by pulling one thread the entire
memory would unravel.
This place feels more like a permanent home then the one I left that first morning. Where we all
struggle the same way, stand out, fit in; where one person, if its the right person can touch you more
than you ever thought possible. A bond like ours is everlasting and irreplaceable, so we live for each other
and strive for every opportunity because if there is one thing that camp and Cassie taught me its that,
dedication takes a lifetime, but dreams only last for a night.
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