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