By the Campfire

I'm not there by the flickering flames roasting marshmallows...but Figgy is. And when you're childless for a week or two--but know your child is off having the time of her life, an experience that will make her prouder, stronger, richer in all ways--it just feels so good. You can focus on your work, your dreams, your R&R, knowing you do not have to worry about the young one.

Spray-Painted Macaroni
My parents did not send any of their four kids to camp. No way! We were lucky we got to go to a vacation rental by the ocean for a week a year.

Summer was a long, idle time that involved squishing tar bubbles with the toe of your boy's sneaker [no one wanted girl's sneakers then] and staying out late at night to play Kick the Can and watch the boy you had a crush on take the American flag down off the pole at Bedford Park, fold it carefully, and carry it home in his arms. [How dinky that flagpole looks to me now.]

Camp for me [until I started working at the laundromat/dry cleaner the summer I was 14] was Dumont Recreation, down the block at Selzer School. We spent the days braiding lanyard* [who didn't?] or spray-painting pasta gold and using it to cover boxes and things. We played kickball with a red rubber ball that was heavier and faster than any kickball I had ever seen. It was scary to kick, and a menace to catch; I prayed it wouldn't come my way, but inevitably, it did. I learned to play volleyball, and improved my weak serve. I even got a trophy that said "Most Improved Player."

Best of all, our blonde, freckled counselor [I forget her name--maybe Margie?--but can see her face] taught us how to play "Black Magic," a tricky guessing game that I shared with Figgy and company as soon as they were old enough to understand it.

Privilege & Excess?
Flash forward 36 years. Most of Fig's friends in Montclair go to camp for a week or two, a month, or more every summer, and have for years....in the mountains of New York, Massachusetts, New Hampshire. Or they live and breathe art for a five-week stay at a lovely college campus.....go to lacrosse camp....even fly to Bermuda for a week of marine study arranged through the private academy in town. They've gone to music camp, farm camp, extreme sports camp, camp by the lake. They horseback-ride, they hike. If they're home, they take private art lessons, tennis lessons, oil painting classes at the Montclair Art Museum or sewing sessions to design their own clothes and model them in a fashion show. They travel to Europe, have second homes on Long Beach Island. They go to Disney, Vermont and Brazil. They belong to pricey pool and beach clubs, where you can order in dinner and watch the sunset.

But Montclair is a diverse town with mansions, apartments and everything in between. So lots of kids go nowhere--except maybe the town pools--but that doesn't mean they're losing out on life, does it? They can still go far, right?

The Heat Is On
For parents, there's pressure to have your kids do something meaningful and impressive. And H. and I are caught up in that. Is it mostly a function of the fact that in many homes, both parents work, so no one is home to entertain the kids when school's out? But who entertained us when our moms were home? We kind of entertained ourselves. Is it because with two salaries, we have more money than our parents did, so we can pay for luxuries like these? Is it because we generally have fewer children per house now? Or are we trying to buy happiness for our kids, give them an edge in life--when maybe they would find exactly what they need right in their own boring backyards?

It's as if turning elbow macaroni into a work of art is simply not enough.

*Fascinating fact from Wikipedia: "Lanyard...is a plaiting and knotting craft, originally aimed at children, which originated in France, where it became a fad in the late 1950s...it is a popular pastime at summer camps for children, often employed to keep the children busy.