Summer camp has come a long way, thanks to technology. When I went to camp, 100 years ago, I wrote a letter (with a pen) and mailed it (with a stamp). Seven days letter, if I was lucky, I would get a response. The pictures I took (with film) couldn’t be developed until after I got home- and even then about 50% of the shots were overexposed and black or orange.
Today we have camps with a emailing capability, facebook, instagram, texting and live video streaming, I can see what my girl is doing in real time. I know I sound like an old person, but that’s just crazy to me.
For the second year, Britton is attending a week long Methodist camp with our church. Thanks to her Pastor’s iPhone, it looks like my B is having a great time, and the homesick letters (like I used to write) will not be making an appearance as I once had feared.
I once went to a ‘Fashion Fitness and Fun’ Girl Scout camp. I dragged my dear friend Courtney with me- we must have been about Britton’s age (4th grade) and the camp was about an hour outside of town. Think Florida. Think heat. The cabins, if you could call them that, had mosquito nets over them, which should have been my first clue.
It didn’t take the two of us long to realize we were at the wrong camp. That’s when the letters pleading for our parents to come get us started. When that failed, we feigned headaches, stomach aches and any other ailments we could conjure while at the camp clinic. Unsuccessful in our attempts to break free, we made a last ditch effort while on a field trip to a local cosmetology school and department store. While walking out of Gayfers, we saw one of our mother’s friends and ran to her, grabbing her hands, crying, asking her to please please call our moms to come pick us up. Mind you, the camp was only 7 days long and an hour away from our homes.
Sweet Mrs. Elliot did make the call, bless your heart. But alas, our parents didn’t care about our planters warts, headaches, or pathetic letters. Our pitiful selves continued on at ‘Fashion Fitness and Fun’ until the end of the week. I think Courtney and I still have nightmares about first our summer camp experience.
Luckily, summer camp was redeemed for us when we attended Camp Crestridge in North Carolina several summers later. Enough to attend not once, but twice.
According to the Facebook photos, looks like she had chicken nuggets for dinner tonight.
As the kids were in the car yesterday morning, while I ran inside for the 14th time for that last minute item, Britton and Kenley listened to music. As we were reversing down the driveway, trying to get to church in a hurry, Britton repeated to me what she had heard on the radio.
“We ask God for help and from Him we get hope. Not because hope is different but because it is the same.”
Well said, little wise girl.
Now go have some fun!