Mondays, Memories and Mississippi

Mondays. Sometimes mundane. Probably the most dreaded day of the week. Can you imagine being mundane and dreaded? Sometimes memories are that way, but not this Monday. I've got a good memory to share. I remember being eight years old at Camp Meridale (Girl Scout Camp) in Meridian, Mississippi, where I experienced one of my favorite childhood memories. The smell and sticky of my first s'more. 

The oldest campers stayed in actual treehouses, so my last Summer at Meridale, I relished every second on that rickety bunk bed in a coveted treehouse. In my mind, it seemed to be so high in the sky, but recently I saw a picture that showed it was just about 6 feet off the ground. Funny how that happens when we look back at our childhood homes and schools. 

I was one of the youngest campers in the treehouse due to an error when they assigned cabins. That Summer, I also won my only pageant. Pretty ironic for my tomboy 10-year-old self who lived in cut off jeans and a 'Grub Forever' t-shirt. They crowned me with a tiny tiara, a shower curtain cape, a bunch of wildflowers, a paper sash, and a tin foil homemade scepter. In the early 70s, dance lessons and pageants were a rite of passage in small southern towns.

I'd only been in one other and realized very quickly it wasn't for me. My Mother was not southern and didn't know the tips and tricks. I was the only contestant wearing knee socks, and the competition was tough… a former Miss America won. The night I won, "Miss Meridale," I was told by all of the older girls that I only won because I had a talent. I could sing and play the guitar. They were mad that I won, so they put some shaving cream in my guitar that night to prank me. It was a small price to pay for camp folklore. We moved to Memphis the next Summer, so I missed out on crowning the next "Miss Meridale" and had to deliver my little tiara to the local Girl Scout office before pulling out of town. I'll never forget those innocent days and s'more nights by the campfire in the tall pines outside Meridian. They gave me memories I'll treasure forever. 

These memories inspired our company name. We named our retreat spot, The Nashville Treehouse in 2013. Paulette said, "what should we call this?" — and I said, "what about The Nashville Treehouse?" We invited new and old friends from all across the country for our first event that Summer. As a teenager, I loved going to camps, and I was always so sad to leave my new buddies. I dreamed of having a big plane one day and being able to fly around picking up everyone to have a big slumber party at my house. I loved my friends. We hoped that our Treehouse retreats would help all of our new and old friends get back in touch with their younger selves and have some fun. Some of them were beginning to be empty nesters and starting to have grandkids, but we always saw the kids come out when it was time for a S'more.  

For those of you who don't know our history, we relocated to Burnsville, NC, to update a 42-acre retreat property, and after working for 18 months on it, Covid happened….. we had to push pause on events. Like a lot of folks, we're learning to pivot. We started a "new branch" creating products that provide comfort and joy and encourage some of the same elements that were part of our retreats. The Treehouse + Co carries the same hopes and dreams and partners with our new nonprofit, Friends of the Treehouse, to extend that to families and individuals experiencing all types of loss. 

So, back to the S'mores. Messy. Sticky. Yummy. Gooey goodness on a stick. The flickers of flames shooting like stars in the air. The heat from the perfect piñon wood. Nothing matters when watching your marshmallow turn into a black brick or the perfect crispy edges and warmed middle that's about to smash between chocolate and graham crackers. 

S'mores are an excellent analogy for life when I think about it. Crumbs on the edges of our mouth and bits fallen on our sweater, but no one cares. It's a S'more. That's why it brings joy. To let go. Indulge for a moment, without hesitation. I need a bit of that on this Monday morning. How about you?