Sum, Sum Summertime

Carefree days on the beach. Ice cream, lemonade and cookouts every night. Afternoons lazing by the pool. Making new friends and maybe developing a vacation crush. Mini golf, drive-in movies, building sand castles. Yes, it's summer.

Wouldn't it be awesome if the next 10 1/2 to 11 weeks were all of the things up there in that glorious first paragraph? They could be, if it weren't for...camp.

No, I'm kidding. Camp is awesome! Well, most of the time. I had a great time every summer when I was a kid. My dad ran the camp at my elementary school, which was literally a 50-foot walk through my backyard. He was a teacher in a nearby town, so had summers off. In addition, he'd worked for YMCAs in various locations, so he was a master of motivating and entertaining kids of all ages.

We played tons and tons of softball, sometimes against camps from other elementary schools in town, as well as regular games of Capture the Flag. There were arts and crafts, which I never really enjoyed, and quieter activities like chess and checkers. We had bike parades and story time, played basketball and four square and went absolutely crazy for the slip-and-slide. The last week of camp there was a town-wide jamboree in which we competed in track and field events against other camps, followed by a cookout and an awards ceremony. It was fantastic.

I don't remember any bad days at camp, but I'm sure I had some despite the fact that my dad ran the place, my older brother and sister were there, along with a lot of my neighborhood friends, and the counselors were really nice. Let's face it, camp can be a hassle sometimes, no matter who or how old you are.

My kids started going to camp when they were still in preschool. Over the years they've gone to numerous other camps. For the most part, Amelia has enjoyed her time at a private school summer program and one at her elementary school. The Girl Scout camp she attended last year, however, drove her to tears a few times. She didn't like the amount of outdoor time they had, and was a little freaked out about a bee hive near some of their activities. Also, she didn't know anybody in her group, although she had a friend in an older section.

Owen mostly enjoyed his camp experiences through elementary school, all of which took place at the same private school near us where Amelia went to camp for a few years. He met a few friends and had fun swimming and playing some of the sports. He had a handful of rough drop-offs over the years, but the counselors and camp director were for the most part adept at helping him get back on track.

Once Owen hit middle school, however, camp, like school itself, became more difficult (see February 6, 2016, "In the Spotlight").

He no longer wanted to go to the private school camp, which was fine. I talked to a woman who'd worked closely with him while Owen was in elementary school, and she mentioned a camp that she ran every summer. Kids could choose their own activities, which sounded good to us and to Owen. Rather than having to mix sports with other things he liked to do, Owen could tailor his experience. He chose woodworking, photography, computer lab and making music on the computer as the things he wanted to do for a few weeks in July.

The camp director, Jenny, let Owen visit a few days ahead of the opening, so he could meet a few teachers and get the lay of the land. The camp was held at the middle school near our house where Owen had just finished 6th grade. It was a familiar place to him, which was good, but also the place where for the last six weeks of that school year, he'd refused to go due to his anxiety.

Needless to say, he struggled with camp. He spent short amounts of time in the building, walking around with Jenny and checking a few things out, but not attending any of the activities he'd selected. As a result, he and I spent a lot of time together, doing various activities but also hanging around the house. I was frustrated, but felt terrible as I watched Owen struggle.

Last year, after 7th grade, Owen was once again signed up to attend this camp. His school year had been another roller coaster ride, culminating once again in his refusal to go to school the final five or six weeks. He signed up for similar activities at camp, and met with teachers ahead of time. This time, he managed to take part in the Mythbusters class several times over three weeks, but that was it.

This was progress, albeit a slow advance. Owen had difficulty expressing just what it was that made him so anxious about attending camp, although it wasn't hard for Beth and me to figure out. He didn't know any of the kids. He has a hard time introducing himself to new kids and adults. He likes to be in the safety and comfort of his own home.

Last summer I also signed Owen up for a few one-week camp sessions at the high school. I don't remember what their focus was, but something tech-y that seemed to appeal to him. I brought him in ahead of time to meet the teachers and see the classrooms, but when the time came for him to attend, he was just too overwhelmed with anxiety and doubt to get himself out of the house.

Which brings us to this summer. After struggling at the beginning of the year at his new school, Owen finally settled in nicely. He made friends, came to trust the teachers and enjoyed the class work, the occasional field trips and, of course, hanging out with the staff members' dogs.

He is once again scheduled to attend the camp where he was the last two summers. Given what a great frame of mind he's been in the last several months, I'd say his chances of making it through more than one class are better. I'll take him in next week to meet teachers and get reacquainted with folks he knows.

In August, he's slated to attend a two-week camp with a school friend. Held at a private school for middle and high schoolers that focuses on technology, the camp is likely to be filled with kids like Owen and his friends at school. He and his buddy and a few others will spend two weeks designing and building their own "robo cars." Sounds fun, right? Because he's doing it with a friend, and I've already taken him to the space and met the woman who runs the place, I think there's a good chance he'll stick with that program.

Also helping to convince me is the fact that this week he went willingly to another camp he'd never been to before. Held about 25 minutes away at the Mass. Audubon Society's Drumlin Farm, the camp is called Animal Apprentices. Owen attended camp with a friend from school, which was a big key for both of them. Owen likes animals, so this seemed like a natural fit. But he rarely feels comfortable doing new things, especially on his own.

After two weeks of sleeping late since the end of school, he didn't complain at all about getting up early again and schlepping off to camp. The first two days temps were in the mid- to upper-80's, so I worried about Owen, who does not like the heat. But since most of their work -- tending to rescued wildlife animals including rabbits, mice, a fox, a fisher and a turkey vulture -- was inside, all went well.

The second half of the week they focused on animals that live on the farm, including chickens and sheep. On Thursday they helped move the sheep to a new grazing area. They did the same for the goats. Owen even got to milk a cow!

Friday was Chicken Day, which was made evident when I dropped Owen off by the fact that the head counselor was wearing a chicken hat. Owen and his fellow campers collected eggs and did a few other tasks for the chickens. They also groomed a pony and a few kids had another opportunity to milk the cow.

Needless to say, he feels good about himself for learning new skills, and Beth and I are extremely happy to see him go off to camp without a complaint or outward sign of anxiety. No matter how the rest of the summer goes -- and I think it will go well for everyone in our household -- things are already much better than last year. And that will surely make for a much easier transition into the school year at the end of August.

"Dear Mr. Fred Lynn"

Ah, 5th grade! King of the Hill. Top of the Heap. A Number One. Life was good at Latimer Lane School in Simsbury, CT. I had a cool teacher, Mr. Cashman who, along with the other 5th grade teacher, Mr. Stepanian, used to play kick ball with us at recess. We had a "bubble hockey" table in the classroom, a bunch of us boys formed an informal club that, all these years later, I can't recall if it revolved around yo-yo's or cool erasers on the ends of our pencils. Or maybe both. I discovered that it was OK to like girls. I acquired the nickname Wiggy. We got to listen to some kid's 45 record of "Brass Bonanza," aka the New England Whalers fight song, which on the B-side had an epic fight between the Whalers and the Minnesota Fighting Saints called by broadcaster Bob Neumeier.

Outside of school, I played Little League, on the Yankees. I was (and remain) a huge Red Sox fan, so I wasn't initially too excited to play on the namesake of my team's hated rivals. But all that really mattered was playing my favorite sport with so many of my friends. I also played baseball with my older brother, Steve, and my best friend, Pat, and his brothers. We played on the school's field, and used a tennis ball instead of a hardball, so none of us younger kids would get hurt when the older guys batted. I loved to play shortstop, imagining that I was Rick Burleson, aka Rooster, my favorite Sox player.

At some point during the 1975/76 school year, we were given an assignment to write a letter to somebody famous and request a signature or token of some sort. Although Burleson was my favorite Red Sox, I chose to write to Fred Lynn, who in 1975 became the first player to win the Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Player awards in the same season, as center fielder for the Sox.

I don't recall how we obtained addresses for the people we wished to contact. These days, of course, it's easy to look up people and organizations online. Through some sort of educational sorcery, the teachers and librarians accessed the information. Wasn't hard to find the Red Sox front office address, I'm sure.

Let's pretend I have a copy of the letter that I mailed to Fred Lynn....

Dear Mr. Fred Lynn:

My name is Dave Brigham. I'm a 5th grader at Latimer Lane School in Simsbury, Connecticut. I have loved the Red Sox since I was born, because my brother and father like them. I play second base in Little League on the Yankees, but it's OK, because we're not very good. I watch your games whenever I can, which isn't often enough, because although cable TV has been around since the late 1940's, I have never heard of it and won't know of its glories and magnificence until the early '80s. In the meantime, I catch the occasional game on Channel 38, a UHF channel out of Boston that, through the miracle of science, arrives on my parents' black-and-white TV set in our rec room. But I digress.

A lot of times I listen to Sox games with my dad and/or brother, either at home or in the car as we travel around town or to such exotic vacation destinations as Cape Cod, New Hampshire's Flume Gorge and some YMCA camp in Torrington, CT, where some of my family got sick. Throw-up sick. Funny side story: once while we were at a swimming hole (do they have swimming holes where you're from?) in my town, my brother asked my dad if he could have the car keys so he could turn on the car radio and get the score of the Sox game. He turned the key to the right spot on the steering column and turned on the game, but somehow managed to bump the shifter into "neutral" and the car started rolling. Here's the funny part: I don't remember how this story ends, but everybody lives.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, can I have an autographed picture? You're awesome, you won the Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Player awards. Sure, you and your teammates lost in one of the greatest World Series of all time, and taught me my first lesson in professional sports heartbreak, a lesson that I have a feeling I will learn again in 1978, 1986 and 2003, although I suspect at least two of those years won't be your fault.

So whatta ya say, Freddy Boy?

Sincerely,

Dave Brigham

I waited approximately 8,000 years for a reply from the Great Mister Lynn. In the meantime, I played hockey in the classroom, flag football outside (we had a league -- a LEAGUE! -- and I was on the champion Rams, which was QB'd by my buddy Tyler Brown), day-dreamed about Cathy Ruddy and found myself wondering whether the United States Bicentennial celebration in July would live up to the hype. I mean, think about it? How do you honor 200 years of revolution, industry, slavery, repugnant race relations, the likes of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Henry Ford, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the Greatest Generation, George Carlin, the guy who invented the beer ball and so many other things?

Finally, the day arrived! The postman strutted into Mr. Cashman's classroom like he owned the place, and started flinging envelopes at kids' heads and yelling, "Mail, suckah!"

I ripped open the delivery, wondering how Mr. Fred Lynn had managed to fit a glossy 8x11, signed photo of his famous face into such a small envelope. I quickly scanned the boilerplate mumbo-jumbo typed neatly on Red Sox letterhead.

Dear [Insert fan name here]:

Thank you for your correspondence.

Sincerely, [Insert name of sports organization].

At least there was a picture...of the whole team. With Fred Lynn's autograph...stamped on the lower right corner.

Despite being let down somewhat, I knew that Mr. Fred Lynn surely hand-picked the team photo -- heck, maybe he even TOOK the picture -- and no doubt would have signed it by hand if he wasn't concerned with injuring his throwing arm, but surely he flipped open the stamp pad, grasped the autograph stamp firmly in his left hand, firmly pressed it into the ink and brought it down with authority on the picture that was destined to travel the Mass. Pike from Boston all the way to my school in little old Simsbury, CT.

So I've got that going for me. Which is nice.

End of Summer

We've had a good summer here at Casa de Brigahan, but I'm ready for summer to end.

The first eight weeks went by fairly smoothly -- with Owen in camp for seven weeks and Amelia for most of that time, plus a week on the Cape. I cruised along on my children's book and my memoir, took a bunch of pictures for my Backside of America blog, and got stuff done around the house.

But camp for both kids ended two weeks ago, and while we've had a lot of fun since then, last week dragged quite a bit at times. Owen and Amelia are ready for school, and I'm ready for them to go.

Two weeks ago, we had a great couple of days at the Sea Crest Beach Hotel on Cape Cod with my longtime buddy Andy and his wife, Pam, and two kids, Avery and Naomi, who were visiting from Seattle.

We all hung out on the beach quite a bit over the two days we were in Falmouth. Avery and Owen (both 10) were psyched to ride the waves on their boogie boards when we arrived Tuesday afternoon. Unfortunately, the waves didn't reappear during our visit.

Avery and Owen got along really well. They spent a lot of time playing games on their 3DS's, and just being silly with each other. Naomi, who's almost 8, was a good friend for Amelia, too.

And of course I had a great time catching up with Andy, who I hadn't seen in a few years. We hung out all the time in high school, and traveled the country together after college, and although we live 3,000 miles away we keep in touch pretty regularly. Whenever we get together, we pick up like we just saw each other the day before.

Beth and I had a really nice hanging out with Andy and Pam. After our time on the Cape, we split up for a day, as they went to Connecticut and we went back home. On Friday, I drove down to meet Andy at the annual golf tournament in our hometown in memory of a good friend of ours who died.

The two of us had a blast playing in a foursome with our friends Steve and Mike. We didn't play all that well, but it was great fun. Beth, Pam and the kids met us at the tournament for dinner. Afterwards, we all went back to our hotel, where the kids did some swimming and the grown-ups had a few drinks and hung out.

Saturday morning we convoyed up to Newton. That afternoon we hung out in Boston, checking out the waterfront, the Boston Public Gardens and then taking in dinner and a Sox game at Fenway.

The Sox lost, of course.

Before dawn on Sunday, our friends returned to Seattle. Everybody had a good time, so much so that both kids were a bit down in the dumps for most of that day because they missed their new buddies.

Beth left for a business trip the following day, so the kids were stuck with me through most of Thursday. Mini golf and the zoo were the highlights, but mostly we hung out at home, ran some errands, went for a long drive through the horsier western suburbs and listened to waaaaaaay too much pop radio.

And now school is upon us, tomorrow for Owen, Wednesday for Amelia. They're excited to go, which is good. Owen will be at the top of the school, 5th grade, while Amelia is starting kindergarten.

I honestly haven't figured out exactly what I'll be doing with my new schedule. I'll get back into trying to establish myself as a children's book writer, and return to the memoir I started four months ago.

I also have projects to do around the house, junk and old clothes to sort through. I also need to figure out a longer term plan for once Amelia starts 1st grade, at which time she'll be on a full-time schedule like Owen.

In the meantime, I still have a few boxes of popsicles to get through. Goodbye summer!

To the Top!

Owen finished school today, so I can now officially call him a 5th grader!

He had a great year, making strides socially and academically. He became part of a "gang" of six boys who hung out together in school, and at recess played a game called Chicken Monster. He invited the gang over for a hang-out party back in February, something that the kids loved.

He did very well with the MCAS standardized tests in both math and literacy. In meetings wit his teachers, we found out what a good friend and partner he is to everybody in class, and about the great improvements he made in writing, which has never been his strongest point.

The school year ended in strong fashion for Owen, as he performed as Augustus Gloop in a classroom production of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." The class put on the show for many of their fellow schoolmates, as well as for families on Thursday. Owen nailed his part and had a lot of fun rehearsing and performing. It was a great ending for a terrific school year, and puts Owen in a good state of mind as he gets ready for summer camp.

After a week off, he'll return to Fessenden Day Camp for the fifth straight year. There, he gets to swim twice a day, play a variety of sports (archery being his favorite), and partake in art, drama and woodworking classes. Amelia will join him at the camp for the second session, late July through mid-August.

Then in September it's off to 5th grade - top of the heap! He'll spend one year at his elementary school with Amelia, which will be good for both of them.

Happy summer!