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An Occasional Post

Summer camp: Part two

Summer camp, part two
It is decades later. Many. Too many to think about. But I still dream about camp, and these are happy happy dreams, not at all like my frequent nightmares. I still have friends from camp—friends who remember more about my life than I do. And I still miss camp.

A few months ago I woke up and said to myself, “Leda, you are going to organize the camp reunion you’ve thought about for years.” So I did, and I am. (We all talk to ourselves, don’t we? Please say yes.)

Here is one of the glories of the internet, my friends. People can be found! You already know this. But I have turned into one of the world’s great detectives, if I do say so myself. It’s not just facebook and google.  Read More 
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Summer camp

Once upon a time, before most of you were born, I had the amazing good fortune to be sent off to summer camp by my parents. I was seven; the camp was eight weeks long. We had no money, but the polio epidemic surged through Washington (DC), my parents both worked full time, and my mother suffered attacks of cluster headaches, probably the worst pain known to humans. So they pulled together the funds; I’ll never know how.

Camp Lakeside –and this is not an exaggeration—changed my life forever. Why? Where to begin? A start: Read More 
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