Boom de ah da......

Okay, so maybe I forgot to grow up. I did, but I didn't. I really have grown up. And old, too. But those things I loved as a child still amuse me. And today, I'm thinking about camp.

Maybe it's because of my trip to the mountains last weekend. I drove past the road that leads to the camp I attended when I was young. And I sang about a zillion camp songs, as I drove along, too. It made me smile.

Or maybe it's because my granddaughter is coming to visit this weekend. We just like to spend time together but, this weekend, we have a purpose. A goal. We are going shopping. And not just shopping shopping.....we're going shopping for camp!

She will be spending her very first week away at camp later this month. A friend of hers asked her to go, and my daughter gave her the green light to go. Of course, the first thing I thought of was shopping......

There are certain things she must take to camp with her, and we have “THE LIST” from the camp. There are the usual things: jeans, tennis shoes, a jacket, jammies and a sleeping bag. We will find those things for her, and the “other” stuff, too.

In order to go to camp, you have to have a cool flashlight. Not just a flashlight; it has to be cool, too. I am not sure what she will think is “cool” but we will find it, I'm sure. And I know won't be black, or brown, or army green, either.

You also have to have a magazine. Something to read, zipped up in your sleeping bag, after “lights out”......and I don't know what magazine that will be, either. Maybe a paperback book would do....

And, something that lots of campers forget to take: a plain white sweatshirt. And marking pens. What better way to remember your friends from camp than to have them write their names and a note on your sweatshirt?

I had one. I had a crush on one of the camp counselors, so I wrote “I Like Mike” on the back. Then, all my friends wanted to write on it, too, and so, they did. I forgot all about the sweatshirt after camp, until one day when I went to see my mother.

I was grown, with children of my own, and there in the garden, pulling weeds, was my mother, wearing my “I Like Mike” sweatshirt! How insensitive can a mother be? My beloved sweatshirt, worn to pull weeds in the garden?

Oh well....

Besides getting what she needs to go to camp, I have to talk to my granddaughter about what happens at camp. I want her to know about campfires and 'Smores and ghost stories and singing camp songs. I want her to feel the joy and cherish the moments and make wonderful memories.

Boom de ah da, Boom de ah da, Boom de ah da, BOOM!