Summer Camp!

A commercial came on TV recently about a certain organization's programs for children. My wife and I looked at each other and said, "Summer camps!" What a bunch of memories we have, surrounding our daughter's childhood camps! Starting in the springtime, we'd watch for camp announcements, get calendars out, compare available weeks, make payments, and schedule all kinds of 9-to-noon or 9-to-3 adventures to bring variety to Emily's summer weekdays. I call them "camps" but only a few were overnight: week-long events when she was a teenager (unlike the dreaded, long and far-away camps in the Peanuts comic strip).

Her very first camp, when she was five, was a morning class at a historic site in Kentucky. After the sessions, she brought home her crafts and also a mint plant, which we planted in the back yard. Other camps blur in memory as to which summer was which, but I remember classes in soccer at the local Y ("our teacher said the girls hustled better than the boys," she proudly reported), various art classes, and I think a swimming camp. I don't remember any "duds," just a class wherein one little girl was a bully, and a music-related camp that turned out to be a week-long intensive rather than a class which combined recreation.

Zoo camp was an annual favorite. Our community had an excellent zoo, and we often enrolled Emily in two half- or full-day classes there. We even had the zoo host her end-of-summer birthday. The zoo's gift shop was a favorite stop after camp was over. Who knows how many animal-themed toys and books we purchased there? 

A momentous camp was a Humane Society camp, wherein the kids learned about pets, cared for animals, and cleaned cages. My wife and I agreed: what a great idea on the society's part, extra help around the center and the likely chance the kids would want to adopt a pet! Sure enough, Emily fell in love with a two-year-old female tabby named Oddball, a sweet, pretty favorite among the kids. Emily thought another girl was going to adopt the cat, but that wasn't the case: by the end of the week Oddball was still available. We adopted her, and she became an integral part of our family for twelve years. (See my 6/15/10 post.)

When we moved to Akron, OH (Emily was 10), she enjoyed camps at the Akron Zoo, a more modest facility (prior to its expansion a few years ago) but with a nice aviary and adorable red pandas, among other critters. For several years we displayed photos on our refrigerator of Emily handling a snake and a turtle. Another, science camp happened the high school she'd eventually attend. We were sad when an excellent camp at a local park had been scheduled during the first week of school in August; what were they thinking? Other summers, we packed her bags for the annual weeklong camp in the nearby Cuyahoga National Forest.

I don't want to leave out Vacation Bible Schools, always a significant summertime week. When Emily was in grade school, our church had a very nice program. After we moved to Ohio, she attended VBS at our own church and a Lutheran friend's church. At the latter, a motorcycle-riding pastor was a highlight one year.  Something that always amazes me about VBS is how the curriculum designers dream up enjoyable and different themes year after year. 

An enduring memory of any summer event is heat (and its partner humidity). The camper received ample sunscreen, and she had two or three little plastic fans to carry on hot days (multiple ones because misplaced fans were replaced and then rediscovered). Her chauffeur seized the day and sometimes went barefooted. 

Emily's "era" of camping merged into volunteer service as a VBS assistant, and also summer marching band practice. Marching band was a several-week commitment, more boot camp than summer camp.  Instead of "driving Miss Emily" around to different locations, we had only destination: the band room in the rear of the high school, and church during VBS week.

Camps were not part of my own childhood experience. My hometown was too small for such programs, and I've no idea if our denomination offered camps in Illinois, but I did love and was influenced by a series of VBSs. Our local library featured summer programs. Not until the summer between my junior and senior years of high school did I have an out of town class, a week-long training program for students working on yearbooks. The program happened an hour away at Eastern Illinois University, where we kids stayed in the dorms and attended classes (my interest was photography). The Steely Dan song "Reelin in the Years" reminds me of that summer. What a great time! I bitterly regretted not having similar opportunities earlier.

Fortunately, the many hours I've spent with Emily over the years means that I won't have the regrets of some parents who worked hard but neglected their kids.  I think my own dad was one, although he never said so explicitly.  I appreciate this article, http://www.cnn.com/2011/OPINION/06/16/pearlman.fathers.day/index.html, which calls dads to spend more time with their kids. 

When we moved to Akron, the mint plant came with us. We planted it near the lake at the edge of our backyard, where it lasted nearly nine years (or nearly fourteen years after Emily brought it home) until heavy rains flooded the area. I saved a toy giraffe, though, from a garage sale pile, when I recalled its purchase on a cheerful afternoon in the zoo gift shop.