Dad Adjusts to Summer Camp
Not An Expert, Just A Dad
by Jon Buzby

This summer, there will be thousands of kids leaving home for the first time, not to college, not on vacation, but to camp.

Most won’t fly or take the train, but be dropped off by Mom and Dad, sadly waving goodbye at the curb (Mom and Dad that is).

If we thought we could get away with it, we’d probably stay with them. Maybe in the room next door. Or we’d just park the car and sleep in it for a week. Anywhere as long as we could see them as soon as they wake up and right before they head to bed, to know they are safe.

My son is going away to camp this summer. I don’t even think it’s being “on his own” I’m worried about. It’s the fact that he’s going to be a four-hour car ride away having a blast while I miss and worry about him like crazy.

And my guess is, like most teenagers, the only time my name will pop into his head is if he needs more money.

He wanted to go last year but sprung it on me at the last minute and I said no. He was told if he wanted to go next year he’d have to plan ahead and save his money. I guess I was banking (no pun intended) on him not having his share of the fee. But he does, and this summer we’ll pack the car and head north. It will be a preview of college days to come.

He is headed to a lakefront cabin with a dock loaded with water toys. There will be sports games all day, camp fires at night. And did I mention girls? It’s a boy teenager’s dream vacation. His days will be spent running, swimming, laughing and having a grand old time. His evenings spent flirting I’m sure. Mine will be spent worrying.

He’ll sleep like a rock at night. Just not in his bed at home. There will be trained counselors, just like I was during college summer vacations. He’s in great hands up there. They just aren’t mine.

It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for him. Just not with me.

I expected many questions from him about going away alone with at least a slight show of nerves. I’m getting none. He’s going into this trip with no fear. It reminds me of his first time on ice skates. He skated circles around me then; it feels like he’s circling the globe without me now.

I guess I should be happy that he’s excited to go and in some ways proud that I’ve raised a child mature enough to take such a grownup trip. Maybe when he gets back I will be. It seems like just yesterday he couldn’t go anywhere without me loading him in the infant carrier and clicking him in.

And then he graduated to the booster seat, the seat belt in the back and then finally the front seat. Next year at this time he can drive himself to camp if he chooses.

I guess it’s time to let go — at least for a week. It will be the longest week of my life.
But I also realize just the first of many long weeks ahead.

Soon it might be summers at the shore, then semesters at college, and eventually, he’ll be away forever, coming home only to visit with his family.

Each night the week that he is gone I’ll pop in the empty bedroom next door and stare at the empty bed. I’ll close my eyes and trust he is safe and hope that when his head finally hits the pillow several states away, maybe, just maybe, he might miss me just a little (or be thinking about girls).

I sure will miss him — a lot. It’s tough letting go, even for just a week.

But it’s also probably time. Summer camp can be a great way to let your child experience being away from home, and an even better way for parents to get used to it.

I think.

‹ Jon Buzby is a nationally syndicated columnist and father of two sons who lives in Wilmington, Del. He can be reached through his Web site, www.jonbuzby.com