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Summer camps aren't just kids' stuff
In my youth, nothing spelled summer more than my box of stationery, stashed in a trunk next to my insect repellent, shorts, towels and bathing suit. Summer camp was the pinnacle of the illusion of freedom, albeit in a controlled environment. There I learned to swim and French kiss, and my parents learned only what I wrote on that pink paper and mailed home.
By Michele Bigley
June 13, 2010