The little one, who had just turned 7-years-old (1952) a week before was being brought to Camp Hagan to be deposited and settled in Junior One. She sobbed inconsolably for hours after her parents left. Yes, I was too young to be placed so far from my family for two weeks. My poor counselor!
But God! He had a plan that would help me grow, learn, and mature in spite of having such a gruesome start and, in subsequent years, I became the dreaded camper on every counselor’s “bunk list.” By my 9th summer at Hagan, I had plodded my way through the Junior, Intermediate, and Senior units and was placed in Senior Eight.
Something special happened. My cabin mates were wonderful, and I had finally learned, thanks a lot to Hagan, to be a not so mixed up kid. At the final campfire that summer, a department head in front of where our bunk was seated called out my name. I was floored—as was she. With candles in hand, we took our place with the others who had been tapped. The kind lady leading me, one who had known (tolerated) me for several summers, said, “I never ever thought I’d be calling your name for the Citizenship Award.” What a momentous moment.
The next year I was a CIT, the next a J.C., and then I returned one more year as a counselor. The following Camp season my Hagan CIT/JC/Counselor friends went on to be department heads. I too was offered to be Head of Entertainment. That did it for me. I clutched and was too scared to take on that job. Therefore 1963, my 13th season at Hagan was my very last.
Now, many decades later, I look back and gather all that Hagan fed into my life. At the “Singing Camp,” I learned the art of harmonization and eventually graduated from West Chester University (then West Chester State) in 1963, to become a Music teacher.
I learned swimming skills at Hagan and at 45 years of age was competing on a Master’s Swimming team in California. Now, I adore just swimming laps.
Then there were the camping skills that served our family well as we spent many years setting up camp outside of Yosemite. When we didn’t have something to cook on, I just got an empty one gallon tomato can, turned it upside down, punched holes in the side and voilà – a stove.
And those knots in pioneering? Who would ever have thought I’d ever need them? Until my husband and I sold all our possessions in 1976, bought a 32” sailboat, and sailed (with our then 2-year-old son) across the Pacific from California to Hawaii. We used all those knots, especially the one where the rabbit goes around and down the hole. Also important was first aid, water wisdom, and how to think out of the box whenever strange situations happened—Murphy’s Law made sure that was often.
Yes, Camp Hagan informed my life in more ways than I could ever think of or imagine. Above all, it awakened a part of me to Christ. Oh, I didn’t immediately follow the Lord. In fact, on our rotation through the departments as a CIT, I begged to not have to do anything in the Religion department. Still, the little kernels grew.
One mustard seed that was planted was after taps when cabin talk trumped going to sleep. Someone briefly mentioned—I think after we had just talked about someone being buried alive and leaving scratch marks on the inside of his coffin—that they heard that people were speaking in tongues like had happened in New Testament days. That little gem got tucked away into my subconscious until 1976. In a God-ordained chain of events and two days before we set sail to Hawaii, I attended a Catholic Charismatic Mass just to hear people “singing in the Spirit.” When the music started—any music—I started to weep uncontrollably. When the strains stopped, so did my tears only to start up again when hymns and choruses began anew. Didn’t know what was happening then, but do now. That night I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior. And I was filled with the Holy Spirit of God and spoke in tongues—only then did I remember what I had heard after taps so many decades before.
My husband was a dear and handsome man that I met in 1968 just after he graduated, as a Marine, from the Naval Academy. We dated while I was teaching in Alexandria, Virginia, and he doing his grunt training at Quantico before he went to Vietnam. Shortly after Mick returned from his tour of duty, he and I were married and lived in Virginia Beach, Virginia.
A little over a year after our wedding, Mick’s leg had to be amputated because of a freak infection that set in after a severe break of the bones in his lower leg. (Yes, he sailed us across the ocean with his only having one leg.) He was medically retired from the USMC. On the other hand, the subsequent corporate climbing (after our Transpacific sail) had us moving around the country as much as if he were still in the service. We lived 5 year in Hawaii, a couple of years in Missouri, some years in both Connecticut and Virginia, 7 years in Ohio, and probably over 15 cumulative years in California. During all that time we also spawned 2 sons and a daughter who have created 5 marvelous grandchildren. Some of them live in Denver, where I now live, and others live in Carlsbad, California, where I will snowbird from this coming winter forward.
Mick was forced to retire while he was at the top of his game as President/CEO of a major insurance company. His mind succumbed to the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) from his Vietnam service. That combined with the stress of being an insurance executive, Mick was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease while still in his 50”s. For over 16 years we journeyed through the prison of dementia. Finally, in 2009, we had to place Mick in a nursing home. Although his mind was gone (thank the Lord that at least he didn’t know anything anymore) he survived 5 more years. This past December, Mick died as a result of complications of Alzheimer’s.
Yes, AD is a terrible voyage. But like everything else that has happen to me and to us, God had His way. After Mick got ill, I turned to academia as my drug-of-choice and earned a Master’s in Biblical Studies and a Doctor in Ministry (pretty good for someone who hated being a part of the Religion Department at Hagan). All those Vespers, all the morning devotions, and all the caring that was shown me at Hagan did take root.
While Mick was in the nursing home, I had the opportunity to do short termed missions trip to South Africa (where I also taught at a Bible College) and to the Congo working with Rape Warfare victims. I did compassion work amongst Muslims in Jericho, West Palestine, and brought teaching to Aeta pastors in the Philippines. Most recently I had the honor of speaking at conferences in Puerto Rico.
As a result of the challenges of Alzheimer’s, I wrote and published a book called Astonishing Treasures in a Dark Forest that is meant to increase the awareness of God’s presence to those who are caregiver’s to ones who have long-term chronic illnesses.
And (this is a hoot) in 2011, I was crowned Ms. Colorado Senior America. And then I came in 1st runner-up to Ms. Senior America in Atlantic City. My Hagan pals, Mitzi and Lori came to that pageant. From the stage at Harrah’s, I was so amazed to see them that I called out, “You’re here?” Mitzi yelled back, “’We’re Hagan born and Hagan bred.’ Of course we’re here.”
Now that my husband is with the Lord, I expect that there are even more adventures ahead as I can now give away all I’ve been given—especially spiritually. Even now I am completing a Masters degree in Counseling. But as a widow in the babyhood of her grieving, I’m not welcoming that future with the enthusiasm that I know I will in a few months.
What I do embrace are my Lutheran roots and the vision that the Lord gave Peter Paul Hagan so many years ago. I am a recipient the dream he set in motion—the fruit of the seeds of God’s love that Peter Paul planted and prayed would bless and grow in the girls that came to Camp Hagan. Now I cry out, not in abandonment, but rather with gratefulness. I’m no longer too young, or too old, to appreciate all that God has done for that little one who grew up to be who I am today.
Hmm! That would be a Hagan Hag. What an honor.
Working in the Congo on behalf of women and children 
The Taylor Family 
Ms. Colorado 2011