Scarlett is staying home from camp today. When I asked her to get dressed, she ran to her bedroom and got back under the covers. She was wearing my nephew’s underpants, and two of his T-shirts, and seemed far too comfy to get moving. I mostly understood. It’s been a busy summer, and not at all the kind I used to have when I was a kid growing up in Oak Park, Illinois.
In those days, we didn’t do camp. We played outside, often right in the middle of the street or the alley, we went to the pool or danced in the sprinkler. Basically we entertained ourselves along with the other neighborhood children for three months, and sometimes we went on vacation to a Holiday Inn in Indiana or Ohio, or to my uncle’s cabin in Wisconsin where we swam in the lake and hooked wiggling minnows and leeches onto fishing rods that we cast out into the shining water over and over.
Scarlett’s summers are different. Read More>