Camp Lore - 1. Chapter 1

Dad drove me to the train. The station was somewhere in New Jersey. It was too early, and I was half asleep, and all during the drive I kept wanting to say, “Look. This is a mistake. Let’s go back.”

But going back meant spending another summer in Vermont. Each year, as soon as school lets out, we move to our house there. The place is really too small for us – Mom, Dad, my sister Laurie, our dog Princie, our cat Fitz, and me. And our visiting grandparents – in shifts. And friends and neighbors – in and around the others. So mostly, we spend vacations wrestling for privacy.

I wanted to stay home that summer, alone, and work in New York. I had a job all set up with one of my friends’ fathers, who’s a lawyer. I was going to work for his firm. That fall, I’d be starting college, and I’d been thinking about majoring in pre-law. So I figured working in a law office might help me make up my mind.

Mom said I couldn’t possibly stay home, that it was too dangerous.

“The town’s not what it was when you were younger. Houses get robbed now. You don’t know who’s on the streets. And you know how I feel about the city.”

The pit of all comic book evil.

“So it’s not that we don’t trust you... Not that we don’t feel you’re responsible...”

It’s just that she didn’t trust me. Didn’t feel I was responsible.

In a way – a very small way – maybe that’s fair. I do go kind of nuts at times. But mostly, I’m in control and know just what I’m doing. I don’t party too much. I study more than almost anyone. I got into a decent college and am doing very well there now. Still, Mom thinks I’m a kid. So she was trying, in a way a little less subtle than I’ll bet she thought, to get me to choose Vermont.

I refused. I can say that in French, but not very well. I know “J’accuse!” better. But that’s from some movie.

So instead of Vermont or the city, I was being sent to camp. Yuck. I’d never been to one before. Until we bought the place in Vermont, when I was eleven, my parents took Laurie, me, and Princie – Fitz stayed with my grandparents – traveling in the summer. We drove all over the US and Canada but skipped Mexico, which I really wanted to see – if only because they didn’t speak English.

Yeah, well – Quebec, I know. And I didn’t speak even the weak French I do now when we were there, so that was kind of exciting. And it was fun to watch my parents struggle with what little they remembered. “Crossword puzzle French,” my dad called it. But other than that, Canada blurred into the United States, and the main fun was changing kilometers into miles – in our heads..

But that was over, and I was going to camp. At least, I wasn’t going as a kid. I’d been hired as a waiter.

Dad got me the job through one of the men he knows, Bill Linden, the camp owner. Dad and Linden had grown up together and still seemed to think of each other as friends, though I couldn’t tell why. I didn’t think they ever saw each other.

The train station wasn’t exactly in the prettiest part of New Jersey. Houses were close together and needed paint, and the roads were bumpy. We were still some blocks from the station – I could just see its roof – when traffic stopped completely.

“You mind walking?” Dad asked.

I didn’t care. I still didn’t want to go to camp but saw no alternative. And if walking would get him out of traffic sooner – sure.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, as he edged the car into a narrow side street and wedged it into a probably illegal parking spot. There was a bent sign post but no sign.

As he reached to open his door, I said, “I’ll be fine,”

“You’re sure?”

He didn’t sound like he wanted to come. More like he couldn’t tell how I felt.

“I’ll be okay. What do you think?”

I didn’t mean to sound angry but wasn’t especially happy. Still, he smiled. Then he pulled out his wallet and gave me more money – he’d given me some the night before.

“Write me when this runs out. And write your grandparents.”

“Yep.”

I had to write them anyway. Dad’s parents had given me money the last time I saw them – “Just for camp.” Their graduation present had been an expensive suit. Mom’s parents gave me a little less money – mostly because they were Mom’s parents. When my sister’s and my birthday checks arrived each year, theirs was always half what my dad’s parents sent – though his parents had less money.

“They’re generous,” Dad said.

“Foolish,” Mom might have added. But she’d learned better.

Mom’s parents also made it clear that this money was just, “For my vacation.” That’s how they put it – euphemistically. Yeah, yeah, I know the word. It was on a ninth grade vocab test. “They’ll be a little more for college,” they promised.

“How much less little do you think?” Laurie wanted to bet. But that would have been foolish.

Earlier that morning, Mom had also slipped me some cash, which was nice. But it all seemed like a bribe. Adding up what everyone had given me, I was making more from my family that summer than from the camp. My entire salary – for serving three meals a day, seven days a week – no breaks for waiters – might possibly pay for a semester’s books.

I kissed Dad goodbye then grabbed my bag from the back seat. That had everything in it that I used every day. Anything else had been sent ahead, in a borrowed trunk.

“Hope it doesn’t fall apart,” my aunt told us. “We haven’t used it in years.”

I’d be finding out, soon enough.

“Have a good time,” Dad said, as I got out of the car. I mumbled something stupid then quickly smiled in apology. There was no point in leaving him mad.

On the sidewalk, I turned to him, smiled again, and waved. It was a routine Laurie and I had worked out from visiting our grandparents – both sets. We’d leave their houses, walk down their driveways to the street, then turn, smile, and wave. They’d always be standing out front, no matter what the weather, making sure we wouldn’t get mugged. “It’s the suburbs,” we wanted to scream. “Dr, Seuss couldn’t get mugged.”

Dad waved back then slowly pulled away from the curb. I watched as he moved out of sight, waving twice more before that happened. I still half wanted to go with him, but when he turned the far corner, heading home, I started reluctantly towards the station.