Florida children infected or affected by HIV, AIDS get ‘a plan to live’ at camp
Monday, July 31, 2006
AVON PARK — The first time he came to Camp Wingmann, 13-year-old Brian Thompson was scared.
"I didn't know anyone and I was afraid of letting people know I was 'positive,"' he said. "But then I went out and looked for friends. They are the reason I came back."
Brian said his friends at Camp Wingmann understand something not many of his friends at home would ever understand. They understand that he is just like them, regardless of the fact he is infected with the AIDS virus.
"In my neighborhood, they would pick on you if they knew you had AIDS," he said. "I feel like I can't say anything. But people need to come here and learn things. I was born with AIDS. That's not my fault. But people need to learn how to practice safe sex."
Camp Wingmann is the site of the Friends Together camps. Friends Together is an organization that works with children and families infected with or affected by HIV or AIDS.
Cathy Robinson-Pickett and her husband, Steve, co-founders of the camps, developed the idea for the camps after Cathy, who was diagnosed with HIV more than 20 years ago, was diagnosed with breast cancer several years ago.
"I thought I was going to die and I wanted to do something that would outlast me," she said. "My husband was the ultimate camper. My idea of camping is a Sheraton Hotel. But I wanted to do something for children infected and affected by AIDS."
Robinson-Pickett said the idea of the camps, which were started five years ago, was to "give people a plan to live and not to die."
The camps have given Travis Casey, 18, a reason to get healthy. He likes spending time with the other kids here, especially his friends in his cabin.
"We have a good time," he said.
Travis, who lives in Orlando, tries to educate the campers about his feelings through his poetry. He has even written a book of poems titled, "You are my friend and I can't, I won't hurt you."
"(Camp) is a great place for me to be to get all of my emotions out, my anger," he said. "I want to be a motivational speaker. Everyone at camp, no matter who comes, knows who I am."
Travis' mother, Carlise Casey, said Travis has even begged his doctors to release him from the hospital early so he could come to camp.
"It's totally different. It gets him to come to a place where other kids also have the disease," said Casey, who also is infected with HIV.
Casey comes with her son and daughter, Karlina, who isn't infected, to camp every year. She said the first year, she would wake up early and head down to Travis' cabin, to make sure he's OK. She remembers the first time as she watched Travis, who is in a wheelchair and has cerebral palsy in addition to HIV, get into a golf cart and fall out when a counselor took off too quickly.
"He fell, but he was laughing and the other kids and the counselors were laughing," she said, smiling at the memory. "That's when I knew he was going to be OK here and I didn't have to worry so much."
While she sees the joy that camp brings to her son, Casey said she also feels sad when they have to leave camp.
"Each time we leave, I feel like this might be the last time," she said, tears filling her eyes. "We're dealing with it one day at a time."
The children who come to the camp are from all over Florida and stay free of charge. The children are either HIV positive themselves or have a friend or family member who is positive.
But Gulf Coast High School teacher Julie Sprague, who volunteers at the camps, said there is no difference between any of the children at camp.
"We say treat everyone like they are infected," she said.
Volunteers raise money for the camps through various activities, including riding 500 miles from Tallahassee to Naples, and climbing Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa.
"We do crazy things to make enough money for these camps," said Sprague, who has done both the bike ride and mountain climb. "The camp is what motivates me. I'm a ninth-grade health teacher and it is my job to get kids to understand these issues. The kids here and their families are inspirational. They have motivated me to get out."
Robinson-Pickett said the camp doesn't take government money because it wants to be open to everyone and grants or funds from governmental agencies often come with restrictions.
Sprague and Robinson-Pickett said their efforts can be frustrating and rejection is brutal.
"There are stigmas that affect our efforts. There are such perceptions about HIV that it comes about through illicit, illegal behavior. We're just like you," Robinson-Pickett said. "We sent out 68 corporate proposals to corporations that work with children. They all refused to work with us. They don't want to tie their names to an AIDS camp."
Even finding the actual camp was difficult, Robinson-Pickett said.
"We were turned down so many times. Some camps were just booked all summer. Others flat out told us they didn't want AIDS at their camp," she said. "When we saw this place, Steve said, 'This is it. We have found the camp.' I thought he was crazy. I thought, 'There is no way a church camp is going to help us.'
"But they have and they do it for about $100 per child for the week. They see what we do is valuable, important and life-changing for these kids."
Elie'se Lanaris, a 17-year-old counselor from Longwood in Central Florida, said she was asked to stay on for the camp after spending the summer as a counselor at Camp Wingmann. She said she is glad she decided to stay the extra week.
"This is a wonderful way to help the kids. They are having such a good time," she said. "And all the kids here are on scholarship. Some of them wouldn't have been able to go to camp otherwise. It's great."
Renata Silva, 17, of Port St. Lucie agreed to help at the camp after raising more than $2,000 for Friends Together through the West Centennial High School's show "Broadway Cares: Equity Fights AIDS."
"It's amazing. I am having so much fun. I have never gone kayaking before. I am doing a lot of things I have never done before," she said.
The camp is also educational. Throughout the week, the kids hear lectures on everything from domestic violence and relationships to classes on HIV.
"The classes aren't all HIV related, but they teach them about issues that could become part of their lives," Robinson-Pickett said. "It's about getting these kids to be grown-ups. Fifteen years ago, you didn't think of it because people were not living long with AIDS. That's not the case anymore."
Nathaniel H., who would only provide the initial of his last name, is a 50-year-old who has lived with AIDS for 22 years. He comes to volunteer at the camp in part, he said, to remind him he's alive.
"When I was infected, there weren't medicines to treat AIDS," the Jacksonville man said. "I have seen the developments and I am still here."
Nathaniel said he tries to impart on the kids at camp, especially the infected kids like Travis and Brian, that they can live long lives if they have the right attitude.
"Living with AIDS is about whether or not you are going to be mentally sick," he said. "I might be physically sick, but I refuse to be mentally sick. You can combat this disease from all facets of life."
Nathaniel said Camp Wingmann offers the kids hope of a brighter future.
"They see adults living with this disease," he said.
In addition to the swimming, kayaking, ropes course and other traditional camp activities, the kids put together a show for their families, who come to spend the weekend at the end of camp with their campers.
This year's theme for the show is HIV and AIDS.
One group of students performed something from the musical "Rent," which has several characters who are living with AIDS; another group will perform to the Lyfe Jennings song "S-E-X," which contains lyrics warning of the dangers of unprotected sex; and another will perform a play about what happens when a group of friends finds out one of their own is infected.
While practicing for the show, the kids talk about everything from the bugs they saw in their cabins to music they like to their most recent trip to the hospital.
"People are open here. It is a nice atmosphere," said St. Cloud resident Jacki Althouse, 15. "It's easier to trust people here. No matter what our differences are, we are all the same."