Memories From Summer Camp Are Ones That Will Be Cherished: Fill & Download for Free

When I was between nine and eleven, my parents were at the height of their music careers and were able to take us to a camp on Lake George, New York, for two weeks in the summer, usually around the 4th of July, so we could watch the fireworks over the lake. I remember being dazzled by them. By today's standards, they'd be very modest.We would rent a cabin with a full kitchen, bath and bedrooms, and just live in our bathing suits on a lakeside beach. It was really cozy and smelled of cedar, pine and moss. I would go barefoot the entire time to enjoy the soft moss or cool, slippery pine needles and the soft abrasion of the lakeside sand. As I write this I realize I was quite aware of my toes because this memory is full of foot sensations. My feet, by the way, are much larger than they need to be, and were a source of anxiety in my youth.The place we stayed at had its own beachfront that we shared with other cabin renters, a boathouse with motorboats, canoes, paddle-boats, and indoor games like ping-pong for rainy days. There were plenty of other kids to play with and I was never bored. We often took canoes and paddle-boats out to explore the shoreline.One day my parents rented a motorboat and packed it up with picnic stuff, including briquettes to do a fire. They took us to a little island that we claimed for ourselves for a day. It had a little cove with an ideal diving rock that was easy to climb atop straight out of the water, so you could just compulsively climb and jump until you wore yourself out like kids do. The water was a deep unfathomable green from which the sun's rays were reflected back in spinning golden beams. There was no danger of hitting the lake floor here, and we were good swimmers. In the picture below, we are groovin' on it:While we were working up an appetite, our parents were making a fire for our hot dogs. I don't remember hamburgers, and hot dogs were one of the few things Marc would eat. Well, you can't skewer a hamburger on a stick, can you? After we ate, we were not allowed in the water until we had digested lunch awhile so we explored the island. That's my mom and my stepbrother, Marc. She would have been 29 or so. She was so beautiful and strong at this point in her life. Marc was hungry.On one end of the island were large rocks on which we sat with our feet in the water and watched sunfish nibble our toes, and giggled hysterically. That is my favorite part of childhood: the giggles that you cannot stop. I used to make my stepbrother giggle on purpose because after a while, he'd get the hiccups that, combined with his laughter, resulted in funny belching sounds, which further fueled my giggle fit, and the giggle contagion would continue until we were a wreck and he'd be begging me to stop. I'd try to contain myself but we'd look at each other and I would fail time and again, exploding in another fit of giggles.We would forget about the sun and get a little burnt. Back then, we weren't worried about the ozone layer or ultraviolet rays. So far, I have escaped getting a skin cancer diagnosis, although I had been sunburned to the point of peeling many times when I was a girl. I used to have freckles.On the way back from the island, I think my mom took a picture of my stepbrother and I -- my stepfather usually navigated the boat. It was taken with a Polariod camera -- all the rage then because it gave you instant gratification. You aimed, pressed a button, the camera spit out the print, you peeled it apart, and you could shake it, even though that didn't really make it develop or dry faster. After my stepbrother and I looked at this photograph, we both fell off our seat and had another giggle attack.I remember this day with such clarity because it was probably the most perfect day in my life.

I have a wonderful memory from when I was only four that has been one of the best memories of have of my childhood and my father.I was always fearless. I loved people and adventure and had no concept of danger. I also was incredibly stubborn. The summer I was 4, my family would go camping at a private late campground that had a huge water slide, built on the edge of a dock. The slide was about 15′ high, then there was the big drop from the edge of the slide into the deep water of the lake.I wanted to go down that slide! The little slides in the kiddie pool were not good enough for me! I insisted on THAT SLIDE!My father thought he had the answer. It was built for older kids and adults, not little 4 year olds, and the rungs on the ladder were set too steep and too far apart for me to be able to climb. So my Dad told me that I could not go down the slide until I could climb the ladder by myself! Then he stood there and let me try. Naturally, I couldn’t even get past the first rung. Problem solved!For any other child, that would probably have worked. But he had given me a challenge! So all summer long, I practiced climbing ladders where ever I could. At the playground, at the day care, every time we went to the campground, I tried the ladder. Finally, towards the end of the summer, I was able to get up to the third rung, when someone noticed me, and pulled me off the slide’s ladder. After that, no one let me near the slide.On the last day there was a huge cook out for the entire site, to celebrate Labor Day and the End of Summer. Everyone had been called over to eat and the beach and dock were deserted.Suddenly, about half way through the meal, my Mother realized I was missing. Panic ensued, and the entire camp spread out to search for the little kid who must be lost in the woods! (They could see the beach was deserted, so I must be in the woods!) They were getting desperate and about ready to call for search and rescue, when Mother, standing on the edge of the beach, happened to look out to the end of that long dock, and saw me just as I reached the top of that monster slide!She SCREAMED! Everyone came running, terrified that I would fall.My father practically flew up the ladder. But when he got to me, instead of being scared, I was EXCITED and very proud of myself! “Look Daddy! I climbed it myself!” And I threw myself around his neck for the big hug I expected for being such a clever girl!He realized that there was no way he could safely carry me down the ladder, so there really was no other option… he got up on the slide with me held tight on his lap, and taught me how to take a deep, deep breath, and hold it. Then when he was sure I could do that, pushed off, and sent us down that slide!It was FANTASTIC!!! It curved up right at the bottom, so as we came off the slide we were launched into the air before the final splash into the deep water! I had held my breath just as I was taught, and when we burst through the surface, I was all giggles and excited! It was a great as I had thought it was! “’Gin Daddy! ‘Gin!!!!” I shouted in delight over and over as he swam me to the shore. Once there I darted back down the beach to the dock, and ran straight for the slide! I wanted to do it AGAIN!My mother was relieved I was safe, but wanted to punish me for having done something so dangerous. Dad, on the other hand, was having trouble not being full of pride at my daring and enthusiasm. He pointed out to Mother that is was his fault, since he remembered telling me that I could go down the slide once I could climb the ladder myself. The whole time they were trying to decide what to do, I was bouncing in excitement, and demanding to be allowed to do it again! “’Gin DADDY! GIN!!”Apparently, they could not quash that excitement and sense of pride, but Dad did hold to his rule… I had to climb the ladder myself. Only this time he climbed with me, making sure I didn’t fall.It was just as glorious the second time! And we repeated the cycle of going up the ladder and flying over the lake until I was too tired to make the climb! When I was finally worn out, I curled up for a nap as I listened to my parents decide that the would have to enroll me in some kind of swimming class at the Y when we got home.The NEW rule for the slide was that I could not go down the slide again until I learned how to swim!

I was a member of the marching band so it would definitely be the great times spent with friends at football games, traveling on the bus, band camp every summer, and a trip each spring. We worked hard, took pride in our performances and built friendships that have lasted a lifetime. When I was young, girls did not have many choices in sports like they do today. It was swimming or softball. I'm sure athletes can say the same thing about their favorite high school memories; friendship, pride, and lots of laughter!