Last week I realized a long-held dream of mine (and of several of my friends). I dropped my daughter off at sleep away camp on eastern Long Island. Sleep away camp was, perhaps, the most influential experience of my childhood, teenage years and early-mid twenties. I first went to sleep away camp for a week with a gaggle of girls from my hometown and had a blast. A year later I returned for two weeks and the rest is history. I went for more weeks as a camper the next few years, then was a counselor in training, a junior counselor, a senior counselor, the director of the Counselor in Training Program and finally returned as the assistant director for two years after I graduated from college. If you add up all the weeks I spent at camp, I lived in Riverhead for more than a year. Fifteen years since my last weeks spent at camp I brought my nine-year old on the long ride to the end of the Long Island Expressway for a week at the very same camp...and I was freaked out!
In December my friends from my years at camp gathered for our annual Christmas celebration complete with a visit from Santa and pictures of all of our children. We collected money to make a donation to camp for a campership (scholarship) for a lucky young lady and the discussion turned to my daughter. She's the oldest of the camp friend children and was old enough (in fact a year beyond being "old enough") to attend camp. I expressed my fears about letting my baby go. My friends scoffed and reminded me that if our parents hadn't taken that leap of faith and let us go out to camp not only would we not be friends today, but we also would not have had the most amazing summers for so many years! Easy for them to say as they held their adorable babies in their arms while mine ran amok! So, with a mix of excitement and trepidation I registered Tea and braced myself for the arrival of the first week of July.
In the weeks leading up to camp I frantically began texting my camp friends. I couldn't believe they had really convinced me to send one of my two most precious possessions off to sleep away camp more than three hours from our home. I fretted over the realization that the Caboodle I brought to camp in 1990 (and every year thereafter) was available on Amazon but now was referred to as the "vintage" model. How was something I owned as a kid old enough to be called "vintage"?! I worried that she wouldn't eat, wouldn't shower, wouldn't have fun, or wouldn't be able to sleep. I was afraid that she would be homesick, would fall out of the top bunk, would lose her bathing suit or would simply hate camp. While panicking to my camp friends, I spoke with complete excitement and confidence to Tea. I sang her songs I hoped the campers would sing after lunch. I packed her a shower bucket and explained the purpose of shower shoes. I told her my favorite vespers as she fell asleep. I warned her about the over 200 steps down to the beach. I told her about my favorite counselors, cabin nights, classes, and capers. And on Sunday night we went through her suitcase one final time to make sure she had a flashlight, plenty of socks (to prevent the dreaded ankle lice*...and ticks), a camera, and stationary pre-addressed and stamped with the hopes that she would write me at least one letter.
And then I waited for five days to see my girl again. I hoped that she would make friends. I hoped that she would have fun and take classes that she found interesting. I hoped that her counselors would not only take good care of her but also make her week awesome. I hoped that when I picked her up she would run into my open arms for a hug. I hoped she would be happy to see me - happy not because she was homesick and was relieved at my arrival, but happy enough to let me hug her and kiss her beautiful (but probably filthy) little face.
And our reunion was perfect. She loved camp and everything about it. Her letter home thanked me(!) for sending her and said camp was just like I said it would be! She heard the vesper about the friendship circle and the block of wood. The entire camp had an Ugly Counselor contest on Monday night. She sang Father Abraham after eating tacos and lost the scraper game several times because she was too impatient to stay frozen for very long. She climbed the beach stairs after her swim test in the Long Island Sound on Monday afternoon. The whole camp ran under Big Ben, the huge farm sprinkler, one afternoon. And each night every cabin turned out the lights and remained silent while Taps played on the bugle and signaled that the day was done. (Of course she and her friends were also visited several times by Patrol and were told to quiet down and get some rest). She also told me about some new traditions. Campers no longer sing grace before meals but instead sing a song of thanks that starts with the infinitely long and loud "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh" of Grace Number Six. Campers don't have to keep track of canteen cards; each camper gets to select two items from canteen each day. Some changes were a response to the changing dynamics of our world, other were instituted for camper safety and finally others were just new traditions. But at the heart of it all, camp remains camp.
All in all, I couldn't have wished for more for Tea. Camp was a complete success for both of us. She made friends, she had fun, she wants to return (for two weeks!) next summer. I survived a week without my daughter and resisted the urge to call camp and make sure she was ok. But most important to me is that we now have an incredible shared experience. There aren't many experiences that parents and children can truly share, especially in our rapidly changing world. In many ways our childhoods are completely different - hers infused with technology and the general fear parents have of a more dangerous world, mine filled with neighborhood kids outside until it got dark and hours of card games at the nearby pool. Sleep away camp is one of the few places that technology hasn't overtaken. No phones or electronics are allowed at camp so camp remains a place for good, wholesome, safe, (technology free) fun. The days are filled with arts and crafts, farm, horses, sports, science, games, pranks, canteen, songs, card games and impromptu dance parties. The pictures Tea brought home could have just as easily been taken in 2008, 1998, 1988 or perhaps even 1968. The beach stairs are just as long as they were when camp first opened. The lodge is just as noisy when it comes to singing songs after lunch as it was 20 years ago when I was leading the songs. She thought her counselors were so cool, just as I thought mine were. And most importantly, she thought camp was SO AWESOME, just like I always did. Now we can talk about people, places and experiences and she can really understand what I am talking about when I share memories of camp! Next year Talia will be old enough to join her for a week and she is already talking about it. Here's to many more years of driving the LIE to take my girls to camp!
* Ankle lice is not real, merely a tale we told to campers so that they would wear socks.
