Pamper Your Camper with Words

As previously mentioned, having kids away at camp has created a daily pressure to find something to say to them in letters or emails. My goal is always to make them smile. I remember getting letters at camp. The happiest moment was often when the letter was handed to me by the counselor, but then there could be a slight let-down when reading the actual text. Because, let's face it, these weren't love letters. These were mundane ditties from the parents, who were leading their regular old boring lives. (Mom, don't you worry, I LOVED your letters, with nary a Finast visit omitted).

I've tried to amuse my girls with a few lines of rhyming poetry here and there. I offer here a sampling in memory of David Rakoff, whose new rhyming novel I can't wait to read, and Shel Silverstein, whose poems I associate with both childhood and (for some reason), summer. [For those of you in search of meter or rhyme violations, let me just reiterate that these poems were written for an 8- and 10-year old audience.]

So what in camp is fun to do? 
Is there anything that this year is new? 
In all of the pictures you look so delighted. 
There's so much, I see, that makes you excited. 
The summer back home has been somewhat boring. 
Perhaps Lou and I will do some exploring.
Today we will try a different new playground, 
Louisa will climb and slide and run around. 
Daddy's been watching the Tour de France all day. 
It's his favorite event, what can I say? 
Lots of love to you from your dad and your mommy. 
On visiting day, should I bring some pastrami?

I hope today at camp is fun 
And that you will often laugh and run 
Remember when it's time to jump in the lake 
Cold water will help to keep you awake 
If the food isn't yummy, at least it's nutritious 
If the food is great, then say, "wow, delicious!" 
Listen to your counselors, have fun with your friends 
Before you know it, the summer will end. 

I'll see you in less than a week! 
I can't wait to squeeze your cheeks! 
I'm glad you love camp, 
Even though it is damp, 
And they don't serve steak or leeks.

When it's hot in camp, here's how to stay cool 
Sorry, but you can't go swim in the pool 
Stand by the mist-er and jump in the lake 
Stay in the shade, for your own sake! 
Eat lots of ice-pops 
And wear your new flip-flops 
Don't think about the heat 
And summer will be sweet!

Soon it will be Shabbat 
Remember to rest a lot 
While you are praying, 
Know soon you'll be playing 
With all those great friends you've got.

Camp is almost done. 
I know that you had fun! 
When you get back 
I'll help you unpack
And hugs? I'll give you a ton. 

It's hard to believe that Ruby is coming home on Sunday. She wrote me a poem in a recent letter:

Camp is great, I'm having fun.
I'm seeing lots of sun!
I've been here for three weeks.
I don't have much more to seek!
I miss home very much.
Are you bored and such?

Then she wrote: "Like my poem? I'm not as good as you! Your the best Poet I know!" (Take that, meter monitors!)

Correspondence With My Campers

Writing letters to kids at sleep-away camp is a strange experience. What in the world do I have to tell them? Nothing's happening. And even if something IS happening, like you're summering on a yacht in Sardinia (sadly, for me, not so much), you're not supposed to tell them anything that will make them homesick or jealous. The idea is to write boring letters, so the kids don't think they're missing anything and they're glad to be in camp. "We hung some pictures today. I went to the market. I took Louisa to the park." Yawn.

Especially surreal are those first few letters that we diligent parents send before the kids leave, so that they'll have a letter waiting for them on the first day. There you are, writing to your kids who are sitting right next to you. "Dear Child, How's camp? Are you on the top bunk or the bottom? Who are your counselors? What activities did you get?" etc. Then you have to sneak off to the mailbox without said kids noticing that you're posting a letter...to them.

I've been writing almost every day--either a letter, or an email, which are printed out and distributed (the kids can't email back). There is so little to write about, that I've taken to writing poems. I think of myself as the epistolary-poet-mom version of Dr. Seuss (or the secretary from Moonlighting):

In the city all is well 

There isn't really much to tell 

Loulou and Eli played in the park 

She went to sleep before it was dark 

Dad and I are about to eat 

We're having rice and veggies and meat

I can't wait to read the letters you'll write 

And I think about you every night. 

Your first Shabbat in camp has come 

I hope it's filled with rest and fun

The letters back from camp are like golden nuggets from the world beyond. I'm telling you, even those photos on the camp web site don't measure up to a few words from the kid herself.

Dear Mom,

Teva [nature] was so FUN! We decorated pots and planted beans. We sat in a circle and put one of the bunnies inside. He climbed into MY lap first! He's 2 months old. Tomorrow, in Teva, we're going on a hike in the woods. We're gonna learn about poison ivy. I'll FINALLY know what it looks like! 

Love, Ruby  

If you get a letter like that, you breathe easy. If you get a sad letter, you worry. But if you get no letters at all, you're in camp correspondence purgatory. I know this acutely right now because to date I have received four letters from Ruby, and only one from Bella. The one letter I received from Bella was the required pre-addressed postcard sent on the first day:

Dear Mom, Dad and LouLou,

It is the first day of camp and I am sitting and waiting to have a marp walk. [infirmary visit, i.e. lice check] There are 15 girls in my bunk. [change in ink color] I had to stop writing the letter a while ago and now we have to rush to finish these because they have to send them. (we are in the middle of unpacking.) 

Love, Bella

I have received nada since then. It's been over a week. So, basically, I have no information about my kid. Now, I know what you're thinking. She's only been away for a week. No letters means she's having a great time, stop worrying, yada, yada. But this child is a writer. Last summer she wrote to me almost every day, usually long letters with drama in them. I know something's up, and in fact I contacted one of my spies at camp (her aunt), who told me that Bella says she already wrote three letters. Either the postal service is failing epically, or Bella has been writing the wrong address (very possible considering we just moved--I wrote it down for her, but that doesn't mean she's looked).

So, the waiting continues. I'm not exactly biting my nails. I mean, she looks okay (another spy):

But I'd love to hear from her. The camp gods are punishing me, I think, for sending her away. They are making me feel what real separation is like.

Meanwhile, Ruby is proving to be a loyal correspondent. She even wrote me a poem: