Family Camp

This weekend we went to Family Camp. 

When Peter first told me about "Family Camp" ten years ago, casually as if everyone on earth went to "Family Camp" and should know precisely what that entailed, I was skeptical. He started going with his mom and brother when he was about seven (first during the summers, now over a long weekend during the winter). I nursed mental images of people singing Kumbaya and holding hands like Whos in Whoville, placidly making macrame and playing parcheezi until the wee hours of the evening, like 9 pm. Where's the edge? What's the intrigue? And where's the "family"... are you actually related to these people? A weekend in NYC or Montreal or  sounded far more interesting than an outdoor center in VERMONT of all places. But I went. 

Over half a dozen "Family Camps" later, I am now thoroughly addicted. Yes, there is singing, but it is hours of seamless improvisation and enjoyment of familiar folk, blues, show, bluegrass, jazz, yo-name-it tunes. Yes, there are crafts, but they range from knitting, to photography, painting, and Russian egg dying. There are constant games, and parcheezi may be one of them, but they are the backdrop of conversations about everything from relgion and politics to the substance of our daily lives. Meals are prepared and cleared for us. Long, leisurely opportunities to reacquaint ourselves with one another, explore a new relationship, or get lost in a topic of variable importance. The days are spent outside, regardless of the weather, skating on the lake, skiing up to the lookout, playing in the snow forts, sledding down the hill, playing hockey in the barn. Does this not sound like bliss?

And now the next generation has arrived. This is the first year that we watched our kids take off to play without us. Josie had a blast dancing to the music (the center of attention while the 2 and 3 year olds disappeared into the dining hall). Jasper was in heaven and cried when we left. Just like Christmas, Family Camp gets better with kids.

Are we actually related to these people? Yes. I have been taken into the fray only recently, but the nuclear group has been gathering for over 25 years. At once a year, I see them more often than my distant blood relatives (who I wish I could "camp" with from time to time). My grandmother once told me that family should share similar values. If that is the definition, then this group certainly qualifies.

If you are reading this blog, then you are whole-heartedly invited to Camp next year. Bring your guitar, your skates and your yarn. And be prepared to stay up LATE.