Tag Archives: Camp Cayuga

Camp Cayuga!

Chloe has been Cayugaed! We attended Camp Cayuga’s open house in the rain today and she’s ready to go. She’s already chosen the bed she wants to sleep in (either the top bunk or one of the single beds in the corner by the door), met up with her pen pal and worn her new Cayuga sweatshirt.

How things have changed since I went to sleepaway camp. Chloe will have the luxury of toilets and showers in the bunk (I had to walk to a different building – not so much fun in the rain, or the cool morning air), and a huge range of activities from which to choose, including trampoline, trapeze, riflery(!), archery, horseback riding, swimming, scuba, tennis, ceramics, etc. etc. etc. Pretty crazy.
The guide also told us that the counselors, not the kids, are responsible for cleaning the bathroom area. I assume that’s because of liability issues – heaven help us if this coddled generation of children is exposed to chemicals in cleaning products. When I was a kid, no one cared about exposing us to chemicals – we had to clean the bathrooms ourselves while the counselors looked on and inspected our work. How times have changed. I think she’ll still have to make her bed, but I’m not even 100% sure about that.
Can I go to camp, too? Maybe I’ll quit my current job and apply to be a camp counselor. Or start a camp for adults who are nostalgic for their adolescent sleepaway camp days. That’d be fun.

Sleepaway Camp!

It’s confirmed. Our to-be-9-year-old Chloe will be attending sleepaway camp for two weeks this summer. At a lovely place in Pennsylvania called Camp Cayuga. She is so excited (and perhaps a little bit anxious, too) about the prospect of going to this idyllic place in August, she can barely contain herself.

I must say I’d be excited if I were her age. Sleepaway camp has certainly changed since I went 30 years ago. My camp had a lake. It had a pool. It offered arts & crafts. We even had the trip to Hershey Park. But there weren’t any classes in circus arts. Nor was there an extreme trampoline, or any trampoline, for that matter. Other than the cot mattress. Scuba diving? Forget about it. And I sure is hell never saw a flying trapeze at my camp.
What’s not to love? It’s friggin’ Club Med for kids.