Camp is a great affair
With lots of sun and warm, warm air
Come to camp it’s really fun!
With people playing in the sun
Swimming is a hobby here
Camp’s a place where friends are near
There’s fishing, boating, canoeing, too!
Camp’s even better than the zoo
-Me, age 8
The year I was born my grandparents bought a camp on Greenwood Lake in Woodbury, Vermont. Ever since I can remember, summer has meant going to camp.
Camp means swimming, kayaking, fishing (just for sunfish that we always throw back), meals cooked over the fire, Skin-so-Soft Bug spray, endless games of Skip-Bo, Poker and Monopoly, reading, listening to the eerie cry of the loons at night and most importantly, writing down everything in the camp journal.
Even though camp was only 20 minutes from home, it was an entirely different world. No television, no internet, no cell phone signal, and for most of my childhood, no telephone. It was a place where my dad didn’t have to get up at 5 am to go to the barn. My mom didn’t have to run errands or talk on the phone. My sister and brother and I played cards and invented make-believe worlds in the woods instead of watching TV or playing video games.
Camp is where you wash your hair in the lake because the shower has spiders in it. Camp is where you don’t drink the tap water because it comes from the lake, but rather hop in the canoe and fill up jugs at the natural spring on the other side of the lake.
Camp is the place for July Birthday parties, the annual celebration of my sister and cousins who were all born in July. Camp is where I wish I were today, celebrating with my family instead of sitting here freezing in my apartment at the other end of the world.
Good thing I’ll be home to see these cuties in just 26 days. And go to camp, of course.