We just finished reading a book about a camp in the Catskills that ran from 1939 to 1962. Much of the folk music movement of the 1950s and 1960s had its start there. Numerous oratorios and operas got composed about purely local stories and issues. The idea was simple: to bring up diverse kids from the City, black and white, and then send everyone out to get to know the folks who lived in the area and retained its folk history, its folk lore.

"Norman discussed the trips in advance and prepared campers and counselors for what might happen, stressing that they were going to learn from the people they met. He said, 'We are city people' who will be judged by our behavior and emphasized the importance of impressing the country folk," writes the author of the camp's founder. "The campers mirrored the respectful way that Norman treated the folks they visited; his way of honoring them and recognizing their dignity was second nature, and they picked up on it without needing to be told how. Campers approached their friends and neighbors with a sense of awe; these bearers of tradition were both incarnations of a mythic past as well as approachable human beings."

The camp was bare-bones, ran folk festivals and hosted folklorists, as well as musicians such as Pete Seeger. Janis Ian was a camper. The place gained great respect from locals for its earnestness, and the goodness of its kids.

"The overarching philosophy of Camp Woodland was that a democratic person should be compassionate and understanding of other ethnic groups, races and religions and should value the contributions of this diversity to American life while cherishing those of his or her own group," the author, later a civil rights attorney of some note, explains. "America's pluralistic culture required that the democratic person live in several cultures at the same time while preserving roots in family, neighborhood and region. This spirit of community and democracy was captured in 1944 when Camp Woodland adopted the slogan, 'The world is a neighborhood, one family with one future.'"

Those words have haunted me all week. They came to mind as I read about our state assembly's adoption of a World Refugee Day for the state, which happened alongside much of the world this past Tuesday, "to commemorate the strength, courage and perseverance of thousands of immigrants who arrive on our shores to seek protection from danger, persecution and strife in nations all over the globe."

I thought about it at my son's end-of-year celebration, where kids cried because their school year was at a close. They liked each other. They danced and played piano learned from YouTube (on their own, in original compositions!) and then set up overnight play dates for the summer to come.

And I came back to Camp Woodland as I put together this issue all about high school graduations and comprehensive plans, about new laws designed to protect the character of our hamlets, towns and villages, and upcoming camp seasons. And tried to integrate the news of the Ulster County Legislature's rejection of a policy "to maintain a safe, inclusive government and ensure the protection, order, conduct, safety, health and well-being of all persons" because it was about sanctuary, which one party said might go against current federal laws, while the other talked about it in terms of majorities targeting minorities.

"Camp Woodland was not always the promised land. Along with laughter, song and good times, Woodlanders shared sad experiences and had serious conversations about life outside of camp. Campers knew about racism in the larger world. They discussed loves lost and romances that were discouraged because parents felt the ones they loved weren't good enough," was the passage from Bill Horne's The Improbable Community that I returned to as today drew to a close. "But Woodland was such an inclusive and affirming community that even the hard times could be discussed. There was an attempt to work through things because we saw people at Woodland who were willing to work through much more difficult issues, like blacklisting.'"

Maybe, I told myself, we can repeat the good and not just avoid what's bad by telling these great stories of utopian dreams that survive. And spurring ourselves on to more.

Happy graduation, everyone!