Monday Memories of summer camp
Have I ever told you about summer camp? Americans have had a long love affair with the camping experience, both the organized and informal types. My mother told stories of camping as a little girl with her parents in the 1920s. They packed their cooking utensils and tents and strapped the dog's carrier to the running board and headed for Nebraska where they owned property. The family also attended a summer camp in northern Indiana, Winona Lake.
When I was a child, my parents never camped or even took family vacations. However, our little town, Forreston, where we lived until I was in 6th grade, offered "summer recreation" about which I have extremely fond memories. Today it would be called a day camp. The school and grounds (there was only one building for both elementary and high school) were open for crafts, sports and games. We played volley ball and bat mitten in the gym, and soft ball and running games outside. We made those necklaces and bracelets from colorful plastic coated strings, wood burning projects, weaving, and pottery. There were team sports, but summers were pretty hot, so I remember also sitting in a circle under a shade tree for quiet games. I think I only walked 2 blocks to get there, and spent most of the day with my friends. It was all supervised by adults and I don't remember them being at all intrusive or controlling--they just organized things and walked around with clip boards (in my memory). For the 1940s, I think it was a pretty progressive way for the town to look after the children (and we all had mothers in the home since few women were employed, so that wasn't the purpose).
Our house at the star, school at the squareBut the absolute best event was rolling our swim suits in a towel, boarding the school bus at the school and driving the 30 miles to Sterling (singing the whole way) which had an outdoor pool. I couldn't swim but I loved splashing around and screaming. Then on the way back, when we were all famished and reeking of chlorine, the driver would stop at a road side ice cream stand and all the wet, bedraggled children would stream out of the bus and get in line for a Sugar Daddy or an ice cream bar. Since I never got these treats at home, I probably thought this was the best part of summer camp!
But we children also went to summer church camp at Camp Emmaus east of Mt. Morris, IL. In 1950, when it had only been open a few years, the costs were about $11 a week and
I blogged about it two years ago. My older sisters must have attended as soon as it was opened. We had campfire, singing, vespers, Bible study, crafts, and great food. Not only was I a camper there, but I was also later a junior counselor and a junior cook. The camp looks very much the same today, and is managed by Bill Hare, who was a camper when I was. My brother was the camp manager when he was in his mid-20s.
From my scrapbook, 1950, with both my name and town incorrect
Camp Emmaus 1953, Sara and me (on left)
When I was in high school, maybe about 15 years old, I attended a School of Missions camp on Lake Geneva in Wisconsin with a few other girls from my community. It was interdenominational and more study oriented, although there were water sports. In the photo of our cabin I recognize me, my sister Carol (back row left), her friend Dottie (they were 2 years older), and my classmate Priscilla. We apparently brought dresses along to wear for church. That's me in the front with the hoop and white 2" heels (fun to wear on gravel streets). The other photo is Priscilla and me, dressed for typical camping activities.


My husband attended Boy Scout camp for several years when he was in elementary school. He doesn't remember its name (when he was little he thought his mother's name was "Mom" too), but knows it was near Indianapolis. His parents, always a bit ahead of the curve, bought a cabin in Brown County, Indiana, when he was about 14 years old, so from that point, the outdoor camping experience was to help with the Christmas trees and the family cabin.
This is getting a bit long, so I'll have to write about my childrens' camp experiences at another time.
Banner photography by Donald Kinney.
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