by Megan Marquart

Created on: July 08, 2009

In my family, we're all campers.

My grandparents went to camp, my mother and her siblings went to camp, and me, my sister, and all my cousins went to camp.

If we misbehaved, the worst possible punishment was to not be allowed to go to camp. Fortunately, while this was threatened, none of our parents had the heart to follow through. We'd spend all winter counting the months, the days, the weeks until we could go to camp again. When we came home we cried like babies.

So there was never any question about whether or not camp was a good thing in my family. We all expected to spend each summer in that manner. Where to go to camp - that was another question.

My family is Jewish and we're from the northeast. As I've learned over my adult life, the Jewish camping experience is a bit different than what most people think of when they imagine camp (though it was far from religious and most of us just happened to be Jewish). We're not talking about boyscout camp, or a sports camp, but eight weeks each summer of the total camping experience. Ever seen Meatballs? Kind of like that - the same kids each year, growing up together, sharing a bond that was far deeper than that I had with my school friends. We had sports, horse back riding, art and crafts, cooking, go carts, pretty much anything you can think of. There are camps like this with no religious affiliation and this is the style of camp I intend to send my children to some day.

It starts with day camp. I first went when I was four years old, young enough to tote a blanket back and forth each day for nap time. For six years, every summer I spent eight weeks doing archery, jumping on trampolines, screaming cheers for my cabin, putting on plays, swimming my heart out, and accumulating a jacket full of badges as testament to my achievements. I was a shy child and didn't make friends easily but still I loved virtually every minute of each summer. At camp I learned to seek new experiences, socialize, and navigate the pitfalls of childhood. By the time I was ten I was begging to be sent to overnight camp, where those same life lessons were reinforced and expanded. I was ready. I asked to go. Had it not been for day camp I'm not sure I would have ever taken the leap to overnight camp, where I spent the best summers of my childhood.

I still can remember the excitement I experienced each summer the day I was leaving for camp. My stomach would flutter uncontrollably and I could never eat. The first year was difficult -

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