camp ends

The familiarity of summer sleep-away camp is an American thing. Most people I know here have had some camp experience. Even Ed went to camp and indeed was a camp counselor. Most and perhaps all of my Polish friends never went to camp when they were kids. Many stayed with grandparents or other distant family members during summer.s Me, I went to camp three times in my six childhood years living in New York. The other summers I stayed with my grandparents in Poland. My youth was clearly a mix of Polishness and Americanisms.

Polish people do not understand the significance of a camp experience: typically, it's your first time away from family. A time of meeting new kids, and living under the loose supervision of a staff barely older than you. A time to take responsibility over your belongings, your whole self, in fact, as you learn to make choices that teach you a lot about how to best navigate all that's out there.

My Grandma Camp is nothing like that. I am nearly three times the age of all three campers (my three oldest grandchildren) combined. Everyone knows each other. I give some choice, but also have planned activities. Food is the old reliable stuff. Nothing new and disgusting (I learned about "bug juice" in one camp, and "eggplant caviar" in another -- the Russian one).

And yet, my Grandma Camp this year pulled all three kids away from their homes and their parents for a handful of days. They let loose here, at the farmette. Really let loose. Didn't Stephen Colbert recently say that laughter conquers fear? That you can't both laugh and be afraid? There was a lot of laughter at my camp. No one was afraid. Well, except when a movie turned scary: both Primrose and Sparrow would hide for a few seconds in the "art room."

The other day Primrose told me what her least favorite moment of camp was this one: we were at the dairy farm and I was so busy looking at, and photographing baby calves that I didn't notice the manure ditch that ran the length of the barn. I tripped over it and fell. The farmer was terribly concerned over my bruises, my age, my fall. I think Primrose was concerned that I had fallen into cow poop! Since looking at a photo possibility has given me bruises before (think: head wound at a French train station that required a visit to the ER), once I saw that no ER trip was required, I shrugged and brushed it off (and lucky break for me -- they had sanitizers and wipes everywhere!). Still, if that was Primrose's worst moment, that tells me a lot about how well she handled all the other challenges of a 24/7 camp with cousins!

 

This morning, I gave myself an extra half hour in bed in my hotel room. And I walked with a leisurely pace to the younger family's home, pausing at a coffee shop along the way.

I carried my drink with me to their house and ate granola and watched the kids play and read and go about their normal routines.

(post-shower)

It was a beautiful morning!

 

We walked over to Pompette's for a late brunch. They know how much I love this last meal out in Chicago!

(my Chicago girls!)

 

 

Unfortunately, the rains came down while we were eating and they continued... 

 

 

... including on my drive back to Madison. The road heading northwest was bumper to bumper traffic out of the city and in later stretches I passed three major car crashes. I have to think the weather contributed to those. Me, I was in no hurry and by the time I came to Wisconsin, the skies had mostly cleared and the highway had more or less emptied out. It was easy to fall into a dreamy state of reflection, recollection, and gratitude. Three hours later I pulled into the driveway.

 

(what a mess...) 

 

Hi Ed, I'm home! 

Yep, I walked right in, ignoring the lilies. I have no intention of snipping a single flower. There will be time for that. Just not today. I'm exhaling!

with a smile and so much love...