Hi friends,
Remember camp? My first experience was a day camp, probably second or third grade. I cried the first day, didn’t want to be away from mom or my sisters. But then all of those interesting projects we made: boondoggle to dangle from the keys I didn’t yet have, a ceramic inlay ashtray for parents who smoked secretly away from the other, or a new parcheesi board for a family that preferred to downhill ski or toboggan.
Then came the father and son camps: through indian guides, fishing competitions (more mosquito bites than perch), scary midnight dares with flashlights.
I graduated to one week camps, even two week camps in which we set up our very own “Olympics” and had several different categories in which you could “go for the gold.”
To honor these experiences, National Poetry Month, and more…
today I read Rachel B. Glaser’s “Camp”:
Robert Vaughan reads Rachel B. Glaser’s “Camp” – YouTube
Did you go to camp? Are you camp? If so, how, when, where?
No camp. Just campy. LOL! Thanks for the fab posting. xoxo
Campy. Oh yeth! Camp on, you camper!
I am really digging your poetry videos! Very informative subject for a Blog… Keep up the really good readings!
Thanks so much, jackie! I appreciate your input! Grow on!
I went to gymnastics camp when I was far too young to go away to camp. I got a blood blister on my toe and I used this as my reason to believe that I would die there, an awful and lonely death. My father has a letter i wrote to him that reads something like this: Dear Dad, You told me that they would be serving Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches and so far that have not served any Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwiches. I don’t like this place. The bigger girls threw powder all over our room. Love, Katie.
Love this response, Katie! And that your Dad saved the letter about the peanut and jelly sandwiches. Yes! Camp brings all sorts of stuff up for many people. This is exactly why I loved this simple, yet deep poem of Rachel’s to celebrate this part of growing up.