I got put on the spot last weekend, and honestly, I should have seen it coming.
Saturday morning. Camp Twin Creeks 25th anniversary reunion. Flagpole ceremony. 100+ former campers and staff gathered in a circle, some who hadn’t been back to Twin Creeks in more than a decade.
Halfway through my usual announcements when Elyse Lowet (Stanford grad, longtime camper turned counselor) raises her hand mid-sentence.
I’m in camp mode (even during alumni weekend) so, with a smile and maybe a little too quickly said, “Elyse, it’s not suggestion time.”
But if you know Elyse, she persists and insists and there’s no stopping it now.
So I take the bait: “I’ll do that. And spouses too. How about that?”
Went around that circle naming every single person. Flawless victory.
Former campers from 2001, staff from last summer, spouses who’d never set foot at camp before this weekend, everyone.
Then Amy chimed in with all the kids. And the dogs.
Look, this sounds like some kind of memory brag. It’s not, I promise you. It’s actually about Twin Creeks and what happens when you really know people.
The Real Story Wasn’t the Memory “Trick”
I’m not remembering these people, I just know them. It’s like family. You don’t have to remember your cousin’s name, it’s your cousin.
No one would do a “name” challenge at a family reunion.
That’s what I realized watching the weekend unfold. This wasn’t about an (incredible and unmatched and unbelievably impressive) feat of recall.
It was about what Twin Creeks has become over 25 years.
Sunday morning, walking past archery and watching a counselor from 2001, now here with his wife and kids, reconnecting with one of his old campers, now an adult. They’re lining up shots on target like no time had passed at all.
Watching camp friends reunite after years and summer apart like no time passed.
It’s like Cheers (for the older crowd here), where everybody knows your name. Except here, we actually mean it.
It’s not some exclusive club. New people walked into that reunion weekend (spouses, kids, friends) and within hours, they were part of it too.
The same energy that workks for first-time campers works for first-time alumni weekend attendees.
Making and maintaining connection is at our very core.
What This Really Shows
The weekend gave us some incredible visual proof of what we’re talking about.
Alumni created a 30-40 yard paper timeline, marking when they’d been at camp. When we unrolled it, it looked like a heartbeat, an arrhythmia, even. All these overlapping years and connections.
They also made two barn quilts in true Appalachian tradition that we’ll mount above the barn. Hands working together on something that’ll outlast all of us.
But those projects? They’re just the visible evidence of something deeper.
This isn’t about perfect memory or some impressive party trick (though admittedly, I’m pretty good with names). It’s about sustained relationships built through 25 years of consistent care.
When you show up the same way, year after year, decade after decade, something lasting gets created.
Multiple alumni called it “the best weekend of their life.” One after another posting on social media that this is “still their happy place.”
The difference between camps with systems and camps with relationships?
Systems can be replicated. Relationships can’t.
New people, spouses, kids, friends, walked into our reunion and immediately felt it. That’s not accident. That’s what happens when community becomes the foundation, not just the byproduct.
Once Twin Creeks, Always Twin Creeks
If you’re reading this as an alum who couldn’t make it, know that your place in this community hasn’t gone anywhere (and I would have gotten your name too!).
We’re already talking about the next gathering, and trust me, after this weekend, it won’t take another 25 years.
For current families, this is the community you and your kids are joining. Not just for two weeks this summer, but for decades. Relationships built in cabins and around campfires today will still be here decades from now.
Because at Twin Creeks, nobody really graduates. They just become part of the extended family.
And in this family, we never forget a name (or a spouse’s name, or a kid, or a dog).
