Discovering the Goo Goo Dolls at Summer Camp
Rhythm Reverie #3
The following story is part of a larger series that you can read more about here. Check out this Spotify playlist to hear the songs referenced in the series.
Every summer from the ages of 13–18, I would spend one week with my closest cousin at a Catholic overnight camp in the Adirondacks. It was a week defined by swimming, recreational games, shitty camp food, and Mass every. single. day.
God and I were very close those six summers. Now? Not so much.
Despite the distance I’ve put between myself and organized religion, I look back on my camp memories with a sense of gratitude. The counselors and kids taught me the importance of kindness, of building friendships rooted in showing up for each other.
Bound with these friendship learnings was the lesson that music is a great connector. We were met with it in some form every day, whether it was by a counselor strumming a guitar as we gathered around or a mixtape of mid 2000s hits (clean versions of course) playing at the end-of-week dance.
Most of the songs tend to blend together for me, but there’s one that stands out.
“Name” by the Goo Goo Dolls.
I was 13 years old at my first summer of camp, trying to make friends, and I started chatting with a girl a few years older than me. I had a gut feeling that we would get along, so I leaned in hard with the ‘get to know you’ questions.
You can probably guess my go-to prompt.
“What music do you like to listen to?”
Without hesitation, she responded, “Oh, I love everything by the Goo Goo Dolls.”
I was slightly flustered by her response. I grew up listening to the pop-country queen Shania Twain; the Goos didn’t exist for me until that point.
She rattled off a few of her favorite songs (“Iris” did not escape the list), and the one I grew immediately to love was “Name.”
Now to this day, every time I hear the opening guitar strums of that song, I think of her and a brief but impactful friendship that blossomed at a summer camp.
It’s been close to 10 years now since we last spoke but K — if you ever read this — know that every time I hear this song, one particular line lands down hard in my brain.
“I think about you all the time, but I don’t need the same.”
