Camp Green Lane Blog Post August 2nd

Although this was written a few days ago, we held it until today.  We hope you enjoy it!

“Go to camp for as long as you can. You’re only young enough to do it once.” Wise words from my dad. A lifelong camper and counselor himself, my dad had the opportunity to buy into ownership of his beloved overnight camp in the ’70s, but had to turn down the offer due to family business obligations. While I don’t think he necessarily regrets his decision (he kept the children of Plymouth Meeting and Lafayette Hill in Keds and scrunch socks in the ’80s), I don’t think he was ready for his camp journey to end when the family shoe business came knocking. He loved camp. Bled blue and white. The same way I bleed green and white. The way his grandkids now bleed green and white. CGL Visiting Day is his favorite day of the year and every year he threatens to sneak up and hide in the bushes for FireFly. Not in a creepy way, just to be part of something so quintessentially camp, even if it isn’t his camp. If it wasn’t already abundantly clear, the camp force is strong within my family and I am never going to stop stoking those fires.

For those of you new to camp this year, hello. My name is Robin Raskin and I write an annual day-after-Color War Sing blog every year in an attempt to examine my own feelings and, also, make everyone cry. A lovely tradition at CGL is that past Color War captains are invited up for Sing, and it is one of my favorite days of the year. Sadly, your blogger-at-large will not be at Sing this year, as my paying job has gotten in the way of the important things in my life. It is because of this that I made my way up to camp yesterday and ended up staying the entire day. I watched my kids – 1 senior boy and 1 counselor of the littlest girls in camp – doing Color War things. I had the distinct pleasure of watching my son’s friends dump all of his laundry on Senior Boy Lawn and then dress him in every single shirt he owns to win a point in Scavenger Hunt – my favorite Color War activity. I watched my daughter hug and cheer on her girls while they played their little hearts out in cabin basketball. I watched him practicing to play guitar at Sing, and her working with the kids who are going to sing harmony for the Green team, which she is going to lead. I hung out on the White House porch, had bagel lunch, enjoyed a Chipwhich from the Canteen, sat around laughing with friends, and enjoyed a Chiarro’s chicken parm for dinner. IYKYK.

Over the last few days I’ve been part of several conversations about “the right time” to stop going to camp. How do you know when the right time is? Is it when your kid has to start beefing up their college application with internships? When their high school sports team needs them to be at home to practice during the summer? Is it when they need to get a job to earn their own spending money? There is obviously no right answer to this question, and each family has to make this decision for themselves. For my parents, who let me go to camp until… well… I pretty much still go to camp, and for my husband and me, the answer circles back to my dad’s quote. The world is a crazy, highly competitive place for a kid these days. The minute my daughter gets home from camp, she will hit send on her college applications and then stuff gets real. But until then, she can stay in her bubble of happiness, being a kid for as long as she wants to be a kid. She’ll find the right college, maybe get an internship at some point, do all of the things she has to do to make her way as a successful adult in the world. But until she has to, I hope she’ll go to camp for as long as she can, because she’s only young enough to do it once. Unless she’s like her mom, and finds a way to make camp her entire personality, and even writes a musical about it (shameless plug for Cool at Camp the Musical, coming soon to a JCC near you!).

When I walked out of camp toward the parking lot last night, the lights on BB1 were shining bright and I could hear the teams cheering on their male staff basketball players. I hated leaving. I always hate leaving. But knowing that my kids were back there painting their faces, wearing 41 t-shirts, yanking tires, cheering until their voices were hoarse… that made it okay. Until their paying jobs get in the way of the important things in their lives, they can enjoy being kids.