When Deer Listen
"There are places that become part of our story. They shape us long before we realize they are doing it."
Recently, I returned to Camp Oakes, nestled in the beautiful San Bernardino Mountains near Big Bear Lake. As I drove through the familiar roads and breathed in the scent of the pines, I realized I wasn't simply returning to a camp—I was returning to a place that helped raise me.
Before I tell you about my most recent experience at Camp Oakes, I need to take you back to where this journey began.
I Grew Up in the YMCA
I've often joked that I was raised by two institutions: my parents and the YMCA.
It started with the Armed Services YMCA. (Think Village People singing "Young Men..." Yep—that was my family.)
From there came swimming lessons at the Los Altos YMCA in Long Beach, California, followed by Summer Day Camp.
Now, this next part always makes me laugh.
I distinctly remember being 12 years old and somehow being placed in charge of twelve six-year-olds for two weeks of Day Camp.
It was 1973.
Apparently, the rules regarding children and supervision were...different.
Don't be alarmed!
Everyone survived. There were no casualties.
Looking back, I suspect those two weeks taught me just as much about responsibility as they did the children.
That same summer I attended Camp Whittle, high in the same mountain range near Camp Oakes.
Three years later I returned—not as a camper, but as a Counselor-in-Training (CIT) with the Los Altos YMCA's week-long summer program held at Camp Oakes.
Those summers changed me.
They taught independence.
They taught leadership.
They taught teamwork.
Most importantly, they introduced me to a group of friends who, decades later, are still some of the most treasured people in my life.
Some friendships are built over coffee.
Others are built around campfires, hiking trails, shared cabins, mosquito bites, laughter, homesickness, and the unforgettable experiences that only camp can provide.
Those friendships endure.
A Marriage Test?
Years later, when I met Michael, I had what some might consider an unusual prerequisite before marriage.
I asked him if he would volunteer as a camp counselor during Camp Whittle's Kidney Camp.
This remarkable camp serves children living with kidney disease. Every camper receives dialysis treatments on-site thanks to an extraordinary team of physicians, nurses, and medical volunteers who make it possible for these children to experience the joy and freedom of camp.
Perhaps, looking back, it was some sort of...
Marriage test.
In any case...
He passed.
Watching him serve those campers confirmed something I already suspected: compassion isn't something people simply talk about—it is something they live.
Recently…
This summer I had the privilege of returning to Camp Oakes, this time as an Easter Seasoned staff with Easter Seals Camp.
There were 125 campers sharing the week with another 125 Counselors-in-Training, counselors, directors, nurses, and volunteers. Every single person had come to serve. Together we represented 15 different states, with many traveling hundreds—and even thousands—of miles simply because they believed camp changes lives.
It does.
Each morning I awoke before everyone else.
I'd quietly prepare a cup of coffee and make my way to a weathered picnic table where I could watch the sunrise slowly spill across the mountains.
The world was still.
Just birds beginning their songs and the gentle morning air.
On that very first morning, I looked up to see a family of six deer quietly walking past me.
Two of them were babies.
Without fear or urgency, they wandered within fifteen feet of where I sat, simply passing through as if I had always belonged there.
I quietly reached for my camera and captured a few photographs before they disappeared into the trees.
After finishing my coffee, I continued my morning ritual with a walk around the lake.
There I was greeted by ducks and their ducklings, happily squawking, splashing, and carrying on with all the important business of being ducks.
It made me smile.
Every morning became much the same.
Coffee.
Stillness.
Sunrise.
Sometimes friends would wander over to visit.
Sometimes they wouldn't.
Either way, the mountains offered exactly what I needed.
Later that afternoon I climbed the zip-line tower.
As I looked down from above, there they were again.
The same herd of deer quietly crossed beneath the zip line and continued toward the lake, completely undisturbed by the excitement happening overhead.
But the moment that stopped me in my tracks came later that evening.
Following an announcement at the campfire, around eight o'clock, one of my friends needed me to walk him back to his car, so I did. I turned around from the parking lot and slowly headed toward my cabin.
As I approached my cabin...
There stood a single deer.
Completely alone.
Waiting.
It was quietly nibbling on the greenery just outside my cabin door.
It never seemed startled.
It wasn't in a hurry.
It simply remained there, peacefully sharing the moment.
I found myself standing just as still.
Neither of us needed to speak.
In that quiet exchange, I couldn't help but feel that this deer had been gifted to me.
Not once.
Not twice.
But three separate times over the course of a single week.
Some people may call it coincidence.
Others may simply appreciate the beauty of wildlife.
For me, it felt like a gift.
And perhaps...
A message.
My husband sent me this message when I told him about my deer sightings:
One More Thing... 🕺💃
Not everything at camp was quiet mornings and deer sightings. One evening, the campfire got a little extra magic and turned into a full Thriller dance. Camp spirit at its finest. Watch it here:
There are places that give us more than memories.
They give us perspective.
They remind us who we were, who we have become, and who we still hope to be.
For me, Camp Oakes has always been one of those sacred places.
It shaped my childhood.
It strengthened lifelong friendships.
It introduced me to service.
It reminded me that the greatest lessons often come in moments of quiet.
Sometimes around a campfire.
As the years have passed, I've come to realize that certain places never really leave us.
Camp Oakes is one of those places.
Every trail, every towering pine, every familiar cabin reminds me of the thousands of small moments that quietly shaped my character.
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Enjoy!
Professor Amy Conn
