Going to Summer Camp - A Memory of My Mother

I stood next to my bed folding tee shirts and shorts, while my mother bustled in and out of my room bringing me more things to pack into my suitcase to take to Camp Toccoa. We had spent all day yesterday with a marking pen and iron-on labels, making sure my name was printed on every item and labels ironed onto all my clothes. Even my socks had my initials, JLC, printed in black magic marker on the toes.

Mama helped me arrange my clothes in the suitcase, shoes on the bottom, then shorts, a pair of jeans, shirts, and finally pajamas on top. My socks and underwear were tucked neatly in the side pockets. All my toiletries nestled in a brand new pink plastic carrying case, which lay on top of my clothing. My blanket roll contained everything I needed for my bed and shower- sheets, a blanket, two towels and wash cloths,and my pillow, all wrapped up in an oilcloth which would protect my bed and me from the damp ground when sleeping under the stars - a Camp Toccoa tradition - all rolled and tied neatly with a strong rope. We checked off each item from the list from Camp Fire Girls Headquarters as we carefully packed. We didn’t want to forget anything I’d need for my week at summer camp. Finally finished, we left the suitcase unlatched for last minute additions and made sure the bedroll was tied securely enough to stay intact during the two hour train ride from Atlanta to Toccoa.

I was excited about going to camp. I was eight years old, and ready to spend a whole week at camp, even the nights! My sister, Molly, was already at Camp Toccoa, where she was a counselor-in-training for the summer, so I wouldn’t be totally on my own. However, I was a little apprehensive about being away from Mama and Daddy for seven days and seven nights. I decided that I needed a photograph of my mother to take with me, so that I wouldn’t forget what she looked like while I was away. As I searched through Mama’s desk drawer where she stored her keepsakes, I realized how old both she and Daddy looked in the photos stored there. People often mistook Daddy for my grandfather because of his snow white hair, and Mama was what her friends called “salt and pepper” gray. I was the youngest of five children, stretched out thirteen years apart in age, so they really were old compared to my friends’ parents.

Finally, I found what I was looking for--- a portrait of a lovely young woman who looked a lot like my Aunt Lois, Mama’s youngest sister. Mama smiled when I showed her the photo, and confirmed that it was a picture of her and not Aunt Lois. She told me that the picture had been taken when she was a student in nursing school before she and Daddy got married. She said that it would be fine for me to take the picture with me to camp. I carefully sandwiched it between two tee shirts in my suitcase to keep it safe from breaking. Ready for a week at summer camp, with the photo of my young mother going with me, I snapped the latch shut.