All of my best memories happened at summer camp, specifically, one that I went to when I was 11.
Back then, my family lived in Framingham, Mass., a suburb located about 45 minutes east of Boston. After I completed the fourth grade, my parents sent me to summer camp as a final farewell to the East Coast before we made our trek across the country to move to Arizona. That summer was a defining moment in my life, and I still remember it like it was yesterday.
The camp was just mammoth, complete with pools, archery, campgrounds and even a few ponds for fishing and swimming. I remember meeting this girl there (whose name I just can’t remember) and having my first kiss. I remember standing up in front of the entire campground with my troop and belting out The Beastie Boys’ classic “Paul Revere.” But I think my favorite memory of that summer before the big move was the overnight trip.
Every month or so, the camp would hold these overnight events where we would all get a portion of the forest to claim as our own, then we could build a campsite in that area. Being just a kid, my imagination ran wild, and soon we had our own soccer field cleared out of the pine cones and rocks, complete with goals and everything. Our tents formed a small circle around a fire pit, and we all sat and ate s’mores while we listened for what we were sure were wolves, but was more likely just a neighborhood beagle. When the night was done, we all packed up and headed home, exhausted and spent in that way only kids can be. It was a big moment in my life, and I spent that last day at camp taking pictures of all my friends. Looking at them now takes me back to that innocent time, the pivotal moment before I really tried to turn into a teenager and leave my childhood behind. It was magical.
A few days after summer camp, we packed up our house into a 30-foot Ryder truck and an ’84 Chevrolet Suburban, and travelled more than 2,000 miles until we reached our destination: Phoenix. I never went to another summer camp — I was too old for that “kid stuff,” you see — but I held onto fond memories of my time with my buddies.
Camp is such a pivotal time in any child’s life, and it’s important not only for their development, but also for future memories. I probably wouldn’t be the person I am today without those fun times, and I want my own son to have similar ones someday. That’s part of why this issue is so important to me. Camp teaches kids how to become themselves, and how to grow into adults.
But should their experience include The Beastie Boys? I’ll let you decide.
I hope you enjoy this issue of Arizona Jewish Life magazine.
Kevin Whipps
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