Parents, the words below are my lessons from a camper who has recently passed. I wrote it in a way that I hope will be helpful and thoughtful of our camp family. Please review it before deciding to share with your child. This one may be more for me than anyone else.

Kate and I ‘received the torch’ from the Seffer and Lustig families in 2009. They had built Weequahic from the ground up starting in 1953.

We dug in and started building on the wonderful foundation and traditions (Tribals, Olympics and more) the Seffer and Lustig families created while instituting some of our own (Campfire by Sly Lake, GAC, Swim the Lake and more.)

No matter what, though, no matter who is running camp or how long the sessions or what names of the color war teams are – it’s all about the kids and staff.

The people are what make camp – then, now and forever.

Claire

I first met Claire in her home outside of Philadelphia. Then, as now, we met with every family prior to camp. I remember her being quiet and interested with a twinkle in her eye.

When she told me soccer was one of her favorites, she leaned in and her face got serious and excited. I could tell this young lady was a competitor. Creating a life with Director Kate and spending so much time with Associate Director Sue, I know the type well.

Claire started with three weeks – the Tribal session. After two summers, she was one of the first to switch to ‘Olympic’ session. A few of her friends had moved to Super Six and she had another commitment early in the summer.

This was the first of the lessons from Claire – the courage to be flexible. We had always hoped a camper would change things around in order to make both their busy summer lives and camp work… but we didn’t think it would happen. And for a 14-year-old girl to do it?

Claire knew what she wanted and she just did it.

Saying No

The second lesson happened either that or the next summer. I’m hazy on the timing but not on the lesson.

True to form, this young lady was a fierce competitor at Weequahic. Always first to join a team, compete with other camps or within Weequahic. She wanted to move, to exert herself all the time.

Prior to arriving back at camp late in her time with us, her mother called to talk about her concussions. Claire had dealt with a lot of them. Her mother was (rightfully) concerned and wanted to know how they’d affect her at camp, especially with her athletics.

Now, we were always scratching and clawing to grow camp. At the time, I was definitely a ‘yes’ person, at least to the parents and the kids.

I didn’t want to say ‘no’ to anyone and I didn’t want to upset anyone at any time. So, we accepted her back within some strict guidelines. Claire was on board… kind of.

That summer, I had to say ‘no’ to a lot of her questions. When she came up teary to me, pleading to play and compete, I had to say ‘no’ for her safety. When she enlisted her counselors – who loved the girl – I had to say the same thing.

It’s hard to see anyone who wants to compete and play so badly and tell them ‘no.’ Especially when you want them back as a CIT. But ‘no’ it was, and it was the correct call.

Sometimes (a lot of times, actually) ‘no’ is hard… and correct.

Friendships Across the Bunks

I’ll be honest – I was pretty old-school when we started at Weequahic. When girls used to tell me some of their best friends are boys or guys tell me, ‘We are just friends’, I didn’t really believe them. I’ve read enough about evolutionary biology to be dangerous… and a little cynical of those answers.

Claire taught me differently, especially with her friendship with Budow. They were tight. They were buddies. They loved each other in a way that true friends do, with trust, care and vulnerability.

Their special friendship opened my eyes to see so many others of these friendships at camp between our campers. Funnily enough, when I asked a CIT last summer about what camp had taught them, she answered ‘Guys and girls can really be just friends. I love that about this place.’

Me, too. We humans need connection and care. Claire and Budow represented the best of this.

Final Lesson

When Claire graduated as a CIT, cried her last tears in the Rec Hall and departed camp, I lost touch with her. A wonderful camper, someone who stood out amongst the pack, and… well, I turned my focus to the campers in front of me rather than those in my past.

This was and is a mistake. And one I intend to rectify.

Had we stayed in touch, I would have known about her matriculation to a great university. I would have known about her work within healthcare, her continued connection with Budow, how her faith and connection to Judaism continued to flourish. That she had been sick and that the complications were growing.

Time is doing what it does… moving forward. We will all have hard moments like these in a well-lived life. Sad? At times, of course. And full of beauty and laughter, lessons and love. If we only see the bad or challenging, we aren’t really looking.

We are going to miss Claire. She was a bright light in the world and one who taught me many things. Thank you, Claire. We are better for having known you.