The morning the campers arrived at camp, our director; Larry (may he rest in peace) would say :
"the campers are coming, let us pray"
There was a sarcastic (yet truthful) undertone to it which may not come across through the written word but it makes me smile to this day when I think about it (and him).
The man had a headful of long blond hair who would walk around without a shirt all day because he lived for a tan. He twirled his whistle as only directors and administrative could do and was kind and funny yet authoritative and directorial.
As counselors, we spent a few days prior getting ready for the 8 weeks of camp that we lived for (now trademarked "10 for 2")
We had gone through "orientation" and spent hours cleaning the bunks.
We were wearing our best white collared camp staff shirts(some with the collar up because it was the 80's after all) and were eagerly awaiting for the first station wagon to arrive.
As staff, we were just as (sometimes more) excited as the kids.
Many of us had gone through the ropes and started out in the youngest bunk- working our way up the ladder.
This was our happy place.
This was our home.
To get to experience camp from the other side was something we had only dreamed about.
We now got to make phone calls home (before the era of the cell phone. We would actually wait in line to use the pay phone- charging calls to our parents calling cards)
Eat non kosher food (chinese food was a popular night out)
Eat evening staff snack
Days off
Free periods (often spent napping)
and the oh so coveted, corner bed in the bunk.
It's now approaching that time of year.
Sure the calendar says May but the weather smells like camp to me.
Summer is a comin'.
There are no more trunks to bring out from the basement- they are replaced by large duffle bags.
Gray itchy cot blankets are now nice comphy comforters (often matching with a small rug by your bed)
I'm pretty sure the showers still remain ice cold and certainly the flip flops for the showers still have not changed because,
you know,
gross otherwise.
Youngest is going into his sixth summer at what I still lovingly call, "MY" overnight camp.
I've mentioned numerous times how happy this makes me and only proves that camp does run through my veins (or DNA)
And even though this is his sixth summer I still often get looks of horror from new acquaintances that I "send" him off for 7 weeks.
My parents sent me for 8 and parents everywhere were high fiving each other.
Now days, we get looks of horror.
I assure you now as I did then,
No one is getting "sent away".
Sure he may (often) forget to change his sheets and his feet are definitely a permanent black until he arrives back home but that is the glory of the experience.
I loved camp then and I love camp now.
I love that my friends then are still my friends now and have no doubt my kid will be saying the same thing about his friends, 40 years from now.
In another few weeks, staff will be piling into camp for their orientation.
They will discuss how to include the shy kid into activities
how to deal with homesick campers
they will talk about inclusion
and they will clean the bunks
(but not as hard as we did. They actually have professional people now to help with that part. They will never know the grossness of replacing the bathroom mop and waiting for the bunk to get inspected by the head counselor so that you could go out and enjoy your final few hours of pre camp)
They will pile into the mess hall in the morning
experiencing the butterflies that only fellow campers can understand
and if they are lucky enough, maybe they will hear a new director say
"the campers are coming. let us pray"
"the campers are coming, let us pray"
There was a sarcastic (yet truthful) undertone to it which may not come across through the written word but it makes me smile to this day when I think about it (and him).
The man had a headful of long blond hair who would walk around without a shirt all day because he lived for a tan. He twirled his whistle as only directors and administrative could do and was kind and funny yet authoritative and directorial.
As counselors, we spent a few days prior getting ready for the 8 weeks of camp that we lived for (now trademarked "10 for 2")
We had gone through "orientation" and spent hours cleaning the bunks.
We were wearing our best white collared camp staff shirts(some with the collar up because it was the 80's after all) and were eagerly awaiting for the first station wagon to arrive.
As staff, we were just as (sometimes more) excited as the kids.
Many of us had gone through the ropes and started out in the youngest bunk- working our way up the ladder.
This was our happy place.
This was our home.
To get to experience camp from the other side was something we had only dreamed about.
We now got to make phone calls home (before the era of the cell phone. We would actually wait in line to use the pay phone- charging calls to our parents calling cards)
Eat non kosher food (chinese food was a popular night out)
Eat evening staff snack
Days off
Free periods (often spent napping)
and the oh so coveted, corner bed in the bunk.
It's now approaching that time of year.
Sure the calendar says May but the weather smells like camp to me.
Summer is a comin'.
There are no more trunks to bring out from the basement- they are replaced by large duffle bags.
Gray itchy cot blankets are now nice comphy comforters (often matching with a small rug by your bed)
I'm pretty sure the showers still remain ice cold and certainly the flip flops for the showers still have not changed because,
you know,
gross otherwise.
Youngest is going into his sixth summer at what I still lovingly call, "MY" overnight camp.
I've mentioned numerous times how happy this makes me and only proves that camp does run through my veins (or DNA)
And even though this is his sixth summer I still often get looks of horror from new acquaintances that I "send" him off for 7 weeks.
My parents sent me for 8 and parents everywhere were high fiving each other.
Now days, we get looks of horror.
I assure you now as I did then,
No one is getting "sent away".
Sure he may (often) forget to change his sheets and his feet are definitely a permanent black until he arrives back home but that is the glory of the experience.
I loved camp then and I love camp now.
I love that my friends then are still my friends now and have no doubt my kid will be saying the same thing about his friends, 40 years from now.
In another few weeks, staff will be piling into camp for their orientation.
They will discuss how to include the shy kid into activities
how to deal with homesick campers
they will talk about inclusion
and they will clean the bunks
(but not as hard as we did. They actually have professional people now to help with that part. They will never know the grossness of replacing the bathroom mop and waiting for the bunk to get inspected by the head counselor so that you could go out and enjoy your final few hours of pre camp)
They will pile into the mess hall in the morning
experiencing the butterflies that only fellow campers can understand
and if they are lucky enough, maybe they will hear a new director say
"the campers are coming. let us pray"
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