THE SONIC BOOMER
Here comes summer! I know this because (a) it is getting uncomfortably warm, (b) the kids are out of school and (c) I dropped my grandkids off at their first camp of the summer last week.
They say, “Youth is wasted on the young” — and it is so true. Children have no idea what goes on behind the scenes to make their days — especially their summer camp days — so enjoyable.
We pulled up at camp, and they were met with ear-splitting hip-hop music and a human arch of applauding counselors to run through as they were lauded just for showing up. Behind the scenes, their “guardian” (me) had driven for two-and-a-half hours to get them there with gas at never-before-seen prices and one iffy tire. Plus, I still needed to get home.
I had never been at this camp before and was surprised at the state-of-the-art, air-conditioned central building plopped in the middle of the cabins. It contained a basketball court, restrooms and a fully equipped kitchen. “What do you guys eat out here?” I had asked before arriving. Expecting them to say “hot dogs over a campfire,” they instead wrinkled up their noses and said, “Cafeteria food.”
When I was young, the highlight of my year was when my grandmother took me downtown on the trolley car (yes), and we got to eat at a real cafeteria, choosing from a line-up of attractive options including desserts! Hot food was not introduced to the schools until I was in fifth grade. Until then, we all brown-bagged it.
Before being admitted to camp, you had to get screened for lice, pick up your complimentary bottles of sunscreen and insect repellent, and turn in your satchel of medications (in their original bottles or else) for any necessary refrigeration and adult-supervised distribution at the proper hour of each day. At the end of the table, there was a doctor of psychology available to me if I had any questions. (I did have a question, and that question was, “What the hell!?”) But I mumbled that I had no questions and moved on to where the kids received free T-shirts in free backpacks.
Did the kids appreciate the veritable army of professionals on hand to minister to their every need while they were out there “roughing it?” They did not.
Next stop were their cabins. As the kids eagerly ran ahead to choose their bunks, two muscular college students hoisted up their trunks and carried them. To make conversation, I asked the guys about themselves. One was a pre-med student; the other opted to work at the camp instead of visiting China with his parents.
I thought of my college summers, spent working in the wig department of a discount store, except for the two weeks my family spent visiting my grandparents. I came home sunburned, covered in insect bites, lugging not only my suitcase but my brother’s. I had dined on wild strawberries, hickory nuts, pierogi, potato pancakes and Polish sausage. If I got sick, somebody forced me to swallow an aspirin and no one gave a rat’s behind about my mental health. They were the best days of my life.
