Camp Belknap

We worship at the altar of Camp Belknap. A general interest idyll on Lake Winnipesaukee that is the highlight of my boys' life and the two weeks that makes the other 50 with me bearable.

Just look at the place --
if Steven Spielberg is ever looking to make a movie about a summer camp,
Camp Belknap would be the perfect location --
for a movie set at any point in the last 50 years.

No cellphones, no game boys, no skate boards,
just two weeks of camp fires and archery and wooden cabins with plywood bunks;
a place where rituals and songs are old and lovely,
and life is governed by the Camp Motto:

God First
The Other Fellow Second
Myself Last

What kind of world would we have if that were the official motto of planet Earth?
if guns were only used to shoot at targets and food
and every game ended in a Belknap tie?

Here is Pierce, starting his ninth year of camp, begrudgingly agreeing to a photo.
Look past the snark and see a boy who can't wait to see our tail lights
head up the hill as we exit the Senior Division.

Here is Wyatt, a 3rd year camper, not the least bit nervous about two weeks away.
He had a rough first year, but we won't share the details.
What happens at Belknap stays at Belknap.

'Bye darling. Heading in to write your sainted mother?

Aren't we just the worst parents to expect them to survive for two weeks in a place like this?

We've learned a lot over the past nine years:
the boys will not shower,
they will certainly not brush their teeth
and
they do not need three quarters of the stuff on the packing list.
Collared shirts? 3 pairs of dungarees?
Puh-leeze.
They need some swim trunks and some flippy floppies.
Jammie pants are a must.
And maybe a couple of care packages stuffed with Mad-libs and temporary tatoos;
possibly some flags to wave on the 4th.

And what they need most of all:
two weeks without their overbearing mother and her constant nagging.
Where they can be boys.

Amen!

And so begins the fastest two weeks of the year.