“Daddy I love getting to take the bus to camp with Brandon. It’s as fun as I always thought it would be.”
Adam had been waiting for this moment. He has been helping us take his big brother out to the camp bus for years. He waited, sometimes less than patiently, for the chance to go himself but he was a bit too young. He used to wave as it would pull away with the driver honking before we would then take him to his own summer program. He wanted to see Brandon off before leaving, so his excitement had been building for a while.
It brought me right back to how excited I was to take the bus out to the same camp.
I started around the same age as Adam. And I met some of my best friends that I still am in contact with to this day. Now decades later, when I go to pick up the boys or take them out early some days, the camp looks just like I remember it from all the years I spent as a camper, only it felt so much bigger when I was so much smaller. In fact, lots of the people I went to camp with are now parents with campers of their own. (And yes, the camp has of course made improvements, but I don’t know, it still looks all so familiar to me.)
I often write in this column about how, before I became a parent, I never realized how things my kids did would impact me. It was easy to think about how much I wanted them to have the experience, but I never got to what it would mean to – and for – me. But here we are again with me being the sentimental one as they follow the same trail I did. And this trail is the same one in the same place that made me so happy, when my days were filled with playing outside, making friends and creating lasting memories. It’s a bit more exciting than meetings and video calls and all the responsibilities that come with adulting.
I was never the sleep-away camp kid (that was something Sarah did, loved and really hopes the boys will get into). Not me. My mom tried often, even having friends who went away try to convince me to join them too. I wanted none of it. My summer day camp was my happy place. So much so that I ended up working there and lifeguarding for years after my camp days were over.
So here I am just thinking it’s the coolest thing to watch Brandon and Adam experience all the fun that I did. The stories sound so familiar. They come home each day so worn out from swimming, playing sports, doing art and spending time out in the sun, that the first question is often which one fell asleep on the bus ride home. That’s always the sign of a good day. I love hearing about which activities are their favorites. About which kids they love to play with or even what the ice cream or popsicle flavor was for the day. It all just brings me back to a place and time that was so simple with so little responsibility. The nostalgia is so intense I feel like I’m back there myself sometimes as they describe their days.
Being a camper as a young kid shaped me more than I realized. And I love more than I thought I would that my sons can have the same opportunities. It’s not about recreating my childhood for them. But it is about letting them create their own memories in a place that holds so much personal – and meaningful – history. I just hope the boys can look back when they are older and feel the same.
