Musing About ...

by Lesley Misko

Shrieks filled the air, one after the other, as each jumper plunged through the cold water and began to splash around to keep warm.

It was the daily ritual of day camp swim time, every weekday afternoon for the eight weeks of the summer season. The Catskill Mountains’ high altitude brought a nightly chill and most sunny days barely grazed 85 degrees, so the water in the large pool was always at the very least, “refreshing.”

The other day camp counselors and I were relieved when the sun shone brightly because swim time required no creativity on our part and was easy to supervise. When swim time was over, the camp day was over, and we were able to return to our own lives though we did have to give some thought to what activities we could do with our campers the next morning.

My campers were the “older girls.” They were between about eight and ten years old – young enough to want to be entertained by camp activities, but old enough to think lots of activities were “boring” and “stupid.” Making jewelry boxes with popsicle sticks and key chains by weaving plastic strips of different colors together was no longer likely to grab their interest.

Susan (top row, left) and Laurie (bottom row, left)

Most days we got through it and managed to keep busy, my campers and I, but other days, I felt like my $50 salary for the whole summer was horribly unfair. At those times I tried to focus on the coming weekend when the guy whose ring I wore on a chain around my neck, would make the two-plus hours trek up from New York City, where he worked during the week.

Those Catskills summers were quirky. You lived closely with the 25 families who rented bungalows, many returning summer after summer. But when Labor Day came around, everyone left after exchanging hugs, and returned to their city lives that were shared with a whole different set of people. The next summer, everyone would arrive July 4th weekend, buzzing with excitement to see each other again and catch up on the ten months spent apart.

Sometimes summer life in the Catskills intertwined with winter life in the city. Two of my campers lived and grew up around the corner from me in the city. Of course, our lives diverged because of the age difference between us, but periodically we would encounter one another. Somewhere during those years Susan and her family moved to Allentown and Laurie remained in NYC, and we lost touch, but then like so many others we reconnected via Facebook in more recent years.

Susan has just retired from a long and successful nursing career and Laurie is a published author, playwright, and publicist.  It gives my life a hard-to-describe sense of balance and closure to be in touch with them once again. We all know the core of one another… the person we were before we became what life needed us to become. It warms my heart when they call me “Les” because that’s who I was  back then.

And still, to this day, around Labor Day, if I close my eyes and let my thoughts drift, I can hear those shrieks once again and if I inhale deeply, I can smell the chlorine in the water and the coconut oil suntan lotion and in my soul, it is summer in the Catskills once again.

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