Tales from summer camp!

*****************Out cold - the Kid takes a nap.


Summer camp is not supposed to be a Darwinian experience. But sometimes it just turns out that way. Could our children be evolving?

If you sent your child to camp this summer, did you check them over really carefully when they got back - things you should have looked for: gills, changes in eating habits, deportment and subtle new social behaviours. For a few days after our son returned, "Camp Judaea" took over the lake out back by day, and the FROG by night. (FROG = Finished Room Over the Garage, often used as den or playroom - FROG is a southern contribution to the evolution of the American branch of the English language, courtesy of "realtors", who are fairly vilified as arch practitioners of the Darwinian Arts, but that’s another story. Just kidding, Susan, okay?)

Adaptability and initiative are key elements that helped our forebears survive on the savannahs of Africa. I am happy to report that these traits are still very much in evidence in Charleston, SC, not far from Savannah, Ga. I can say this because I have seen my wife prepare our children for their summer sojourns in the hinterlands. I have also seen my children cope with any shortcomings there may have been in those preparations.

Take this last time, for example. We sent our youngest off to camp with a shortage of a major resource - cash! Just after he had gone through security at the airport with his travel companions (he is 16 already), my wife turned to me and said, "I forgot to give him some MONEY!"

Imagine the scene. A frantic mother trying to get through our nation’s massively-upgraded security at the airport to give her poor, deprived, starving child . . . . spending money - it could break your heart! Fortunately, sanity prevailed, and she did nothing of the sort. That other great coping mechanism kicked in - "Oh well, he’ll just have to borrow some from his friends. They all have lots of money." (Rationalization to the rescue again!) And with that, we turned round and left for home, with nary a flicker . . . of hesitation or guilt.

So here’s where survival instincts really kicked in. Our son, let’s call him "The Kid" ("The Dude" will have to wait for another story). OK! So, The Kid gets to camp with $2 in his pocket. What does he do? The Kid finds a poker game, and buys in. By the midpoint of summer camp, he has made $XX, with a record single-game-take of $XX somewhere in all of that. On the one hand, it makes me chuckle, on the other, I worry some parent is going to come along and ask for his money back. Time to lay low and avoid eye-contact. (Sorry for Xing the $$$ above, but these amounts have been censored to protect the perpetrators! and me, based on the very best in legal advice $$$ could buy. No matter what you do to make money, someone else always gets a cut!)

Now at first blush you may think this isn’t connected, but when we visited The Kid at the midpoint of camp, he was a vegetarian. I . . kid . . you . . not! I mean, where did we go wrong? Gave him too many granola bars? Let him live a whole week on Cinnamon Taoist Crunch? (Puts a new spin on "You are what you eat" now, doesn’t it?) And another thing, is this an evolutionary step forwards, or backwards? And will it be permanent?

Actually, there is a lot to be said for being a vegetarian. It is healthy. Some say it is better for the environment - cheaper than raising all those cows that generate methane, which is a greenhouse gas, you know! (All roads lead to Rome - All man’s activities lead to greenhouse gases.)

So, here’s a test of your instincts and intuition. How did The Kid become a vegetarian?

Here, let me help you. He’s male, 16, and plays poker and soccer, loves football and all other kinds of macho stuff. So naturally, he likes a challenge. He’ll take a bet. He and some other kids were shooting the breeze. Somewhere along the line, the conversation touched on following a vegetarian diet. Next thing you know, there’s a challenge thrown out as to who can be a vegetarian longer. The Kid takes up the challenge. This is not a big deal, now. The Kid doesn’t have to be a vegetarian-for-life. All he has to do is outlast some other kid! By the time he came home, he was no longer a vegetarian. And, yes, he won. Not money - just won!

Now the camp the Kid was at for first session was up in Barryville, New York, and they had to cope with some heavy rain and some regional flooding. The camp had to be evacuated. First night they spent in an emergency shelter in a school gym, managed by the local Red Cross. Then, for another several days, half the camp, yes, the Kid’s half, had to stay in a hotel. Not just any hotel, but a resort in the Catskills. A little dated, perhaps, but not too shabby, and Kosher, and equipped - the Kid and his pals got to watch world cup soccer during free time. Ah, coping with the elements is not what it used to be. (When I went to Habonim Machaneh in Hermanus, South Africa, we lived in tents, had cold showers, and ate in shelters with no walls!)

However, the Kid did have to cope with some adversity, but only briefly - he lost something to the flooding - his Reefs. Now, for those who may not know, Reefs are very fine flip-flops. They are at their best when they have been worn in, so that they hug the contours of the foot in a very satisfying way. The Kid was really attached to his Reefs. He had worn them to school and to everything else he did, including the school trip to Greece (Thank goodness the school has introduced a uniform, so footware fit for the beach will no longer be the norm - wrong again! The Kid wears oversized rubber clogs instead!.) So, by the time camp was just about upon him, there were holes in his Reefs. He was offered a new pair. He demurred (refused). He got hold of that most versatile invention, the one Tom Hanks put to such good use in Apollo 13, fixing the CO2 filters so they could get back to earth without sinking into a coma - yes! you got it, Duct Tape (or is it Duck tape?) The Kid repaired his holey Reefs with Duct Tape.

So here’s how he lost his preciousss . . . . Reefs. After some wild-water activity, the Kid put his Reefs outside his bunk to dry, and left them there when his group set off on a field trip. Obviously, he needed more substantial footware on the field trip. Well, the storm struck while they were on the road, and the flood waters claimed the Reefs. (Seems poetically appropriate too!)

Well,what to do with his reefs washed away? The Kid looked in his bag, and found his elder brother’s shower sandals, you know, by Adidas, dark green molded-to-foot-shape, a quite comfortable version of plastic or rubber, with a single broad strap across the forefoot. With these in hand, the Kid went looking for someone with reefs . . . found one, and made a trade! In no time at all, the Kid’s feet were back in that familiar comfort of his favorite footware - well-worn-in Reefs. Footcomfort heaven . . . . I tell you!

Now The Kid’s mom and I found this all out between first and second session. Those of us who feel we must, who feel we haven’t showered our children with enough love and attention, who feel we have not expended enough time and resources sending them off to camp, make the trip to Hendersonville, NC. There we wait to dote on them when they arrive by bus from the far north east. We take them to hotels, let them have hot showers, some decent food, and some ZZZZ’s in a clean comfortable bed. Then, the next day, we throw more money away at Walmart and then we drop them off at camp again, and make the long trek home. Shucks, some of us travelled from Florida for the privilege!

It is a special time, though, to catch up with the news from summer camp. Last year The Kid had learnt about Darfur, had seen and discussed the Holocaust documentary "Paperclips", visited Ellis Island, cleared overgrown brush out of an old Jewish cemetary, delivered meals-on-wheels to the elderly and visited with them. You could feel his horizons widening as you talked to him.

This time, he’s full of all these tales, and we are at first aghast. Is this what we saved up for? That the Kid could look for a poker game? Become a card-shark? Then he says he has something else to tell us. He didn’t always go to the regular activities and programming! "What?" we both exclaimed! "You played POKER instead?" "Well, only once or twice, early on," replies The Kid. About the 3 rd or 4th time he was skipping things, he says, he got to thinking about us. And in his head, he says, he hears me, his father, say - "this is not what we send you to camp for. . . "

"You GUILTED ME," he says, I mean more like shouts, as he points at me, "and you weren’t even there!" And so, thanks to an adaptation that dates to around the Exodus from Egypt, The Kid quit his dubious ways and got back on the straight-and-narrow. Now, that is a sign of effective parenting, huh?

All told, The Kid was glad to see us at the midpoint of summer camp. We enjoyed seeing him and his chaverim, relaxed and happy, even after a 10 hour bus ride that began at some ridiculous morning hour. He arrived minus his bags, which had to go on another bus. The next day, when we took him back to camp, we were a bit concerned because one of his bags was still missing. After checking with various people and looking in various places, we still came up empty, so we took him to the camp office to report the missing bag.

The Kid had been glad to see us, but when it was time to go, it was time to go. With his name on the list of "missing bags" (more for us than for him) The Kid herded us gently but firmly back to our van and said goodbye. Then he turned and ran off to rejoin his friends, . . . . with nary a flicker . . . of hesitation . . or guilt.