Garrison Keillor had a few comments about camps and campers on "Prairie Home Companion" this weekend, and it made me reminisce about camp.
Let's be clear. I hated camp. I went to Camp Kulaqua in High Springs, FL, from 1959 through 1964, I think. While it's true that I have never really felt like I fit in anyplace in my life, I really didn't fit in at camp. One year I even went for two weeks—one week for regular camp and one for music camp.
One year I got sick on Sunday night after arriving on Sunday morning, and I stayed in the infirmary until Friday afternoon. Another year Peggy Miller stole my undies and stuffed them in the rafters of the cabin. I'm tryin' to come up with good memories of camp experiences, but I'm drawing a blank.
But, being a good parent, I felt my kids deserved the same opportunities I had. There were some good experiences at day camps in Montgomery County, MD. There were theatre camps and horseback riding and tennis and other activities that I don't remember. There were awkward moments, too, like Tyler's game of hide-and-seek where he hid in a bed of poison ivy. T.J.'s week at computer camp near King's Dominion was less than positively memorable, as I recall.
There are, however, some really good camps, some life-changing camps. I put National Music Camp, now Interlochen Arts Camp, in that category. Can you pick Tyler out of the intermediate boys cabin pic above? (Oooh, maybe I should turn this into a contest.)
Tyler is still in touch, today, with musicians and visual artists and actors and writers with whom he went to camp. T.J. and I are not in touch with anybody we went to camp with. I think he probably doesn't even remember anybody he met at camp.
The moral of this story: not everything is for everyone. Will Boston and Ridley do well in camp? Will they go to Interlochen and find themselves, the way their daddy did? Time will tell.But for me, this whole thought process was a good opportunity to recognize that the inability to fit in at summer camp doesn't say anything negative about me or anyone else who didn't fit it. Not everything is for everyone.
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For those who have asked, this photo is from 1988, when Tyler was 13 years old. He's in the center of the back row, with all the hair and the great tan he always sported in his teenaged summers.
On his right is Chip Miller, whom he met that summer and who became his lifelong best friend, and my third son.
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