Gorham

Gorham is a special place to me, and it evokes many memories, both good and painful. Gorham is the town where I went to summer camp for almost every summer of my adolescent life, on top of a beautiful mountain, surrounded by cliffs and trees and the sort of beauty that only exists 2,400 feet up. Summers there were spent hiking (or complaining about hiking), rock climbing, spelunking, making crafts, and playing extreme sports such as “Capture the Wet Pink Flamingo” (Capture the Flag, in the rain, with lawn ornaments instead of flags).