Today, I am taking my older daughter to Vermont for her summer job as a camp counselor. The very same camp my mother went to; she may even be in the photo above. My daughter graduated last Sunday, came home from senior parties for her sister’s graduation on Wednesday, found her deb dress at Vera Wang yesterday, went to the Goo Goo Dolls with us last night, and now she is leaving again for her fourth summer of doing what she loves most.
My younger daughter refuses to go to camp. And, as much as I didn’t love my summers at sleep-away camp, I still really want her to go. In an article in the NYTs last week, Pamela Paul talks about this very same conflict. She too disliked camp, but likes “camp” people– those enviably outgoing and outdoorsy folks. For a brief moment, I thought about taking my younger daughter (and husband who also did not enjoy summer camp) to a week of family camp. Note “brief moment”– memories of bug juice, bug bites, gimp key chains, and Kumbaya, coupled with no cell service, came flooding back. I may need to be convinced.