Fat-free ice cream. Sugar free-candy. Low-carb apple pie. Are you salivating yet? Probably not. Manufacturers and weight-conscious home chefs often try to make desserts “healthy” by removing one key unhealthy component. Unfortunately that single ingredient is usually the difference between a completely satisfying, delicious treat and a lackluster, mediocre letdown. Desserts just don’t feel like dessert if they are not able to be dessert, in all of their sugary, fatty, carby goodness. So how can the health conscious among us enjoy dessert responsibly? Just let desserts BE what they are!
What do I mean by this? Desserts that are packed with preservatives (like shelf-stable cookies) or have had the fat or sugar replaced are often just not satisfying. This leads us to eat more of them, hoping to find the satisfaction in the 20th bite that we weren’t able to find in bites 1-19. If we just let desserts BE and make and eat only those with wholesome, natural ingredients (like pure cane sugar, butter, whole grain and regular unbleached flours, high quality chocolate, all natural peanut butter, etc.) and consume no more than 150 calories of the sweet stuff a day we will be satisfied, happy, and believe it or not, probably healthier.
In our culture of instant gratification, convenience is everything, and the constant quest for improvement, kids can often get lost in what they “could” or “should be.” They remove parts of themselves to be more appealing to the masses (just like the low-fat cookies) and can often end up unsatisfied and unhappy, missing the truest version of themselves without even realizing it. One of the greatest values kids can learn at camp is how to just BE what they are. With the array of different activities, different types of staff and campers, and a whole bunch of fresh air, camp helps kids get rid of the preservatives and substitutions and be the truest, most delicious version of themselves. And when they come home, revealing an aspect of themselves you always suspected was there, go ahead and eat them up- no portion size is too big!
For one idea of a wholesome, simple and satisfying dessert, try the recipe for the peanut butter cookies below.
1 cup creamy, all-natural peanut butter
1 cup evaporated pure cane sugar, plus more for rolling the cookies in
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking powder
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line 2 large cookie sheets with parchment paper.
- Mix peanut butter and sugar together with a wooden spoon until well-blended.
- Beat the egg and add it to the peanut butter, along with the vanilla and the baking powder. Mix well to combine.
- Pour additional sugar onto a plate. Using a tablespoon, scoop balls of dough and lightly roll in the sugar. Place cookies on baking sheet about 2 inches apart.
- Using a table fork, gently press the tines into each cookie, flattening them. Turn the cookies 90 degrees and press the tines into the cookies again, making a crosshatch pattern.
- Bake the cookies 10 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool 5 minutes on cookie sheets.
- Using a spatula, transfer the cookies to a cooling rack to cool completely.
Last summer, I packed everything that was on the packing lists, plus extras. You want 12 pairs of socks? Here are 15! Hiking boots optional? Come on kid, let’s go to REI! I was a zealot. I could not be found in my house without the Sharpie in hand.
Fat lot of good it all did me when one kid was homesick. Beyond homesick—he was utterly, incorrigibly miserable. For weeks.
To his credit, he’s giving overnight camp another try at his request: a different camp, and a shorter session. And as I pack him, I know now that the physical packing we’re doing is nowhere near as important as the mental and emotional packing.
He’s scared. And you know something? So am I. I’m scared of him being unhappy again, of getting calls every day from the camp about how unhappy he is. It was a semi-traumatic experience not only for him, but also for me.
So how should we emotionally pack for camp this time around?
1. Don’t avoid talking about homesickness: talk with your child about being away from home before your child leaves. Watch the camp DVD or go on the camp website together. When you talk about potential homesickness—whether your camper brings it up or you do—it’s important to be enthusiastic and optimistic.
WHAT YOU SHOULD SAY: “I’m so excited to hear all about what you do at camp! You’re going to get to try things that you never get to do at home.” Talking with your kid about activities at camp is a great thing. It’s also a chance to convey the message that the best way to get over homesickness is to be busy, whether it’s talking to other kids in the bunk or going out and trying waterskiing for the first time.
WHAT YOU SHOULDN’T SAY: “If things don’t work out, I’ll come and get you early.” This is a big no-no. You think you’re doing your kid a favor, but in fact, you’re implicitly sending the message, “I don’t think you can really handle things on your own.” Remember: you are not sending your kid alone to storm the beaches of Normandy under rapid machine gun fire. You are sending her for a camp experience: it’s designed to be a good time. It’s also designed to be a setting for her to learn how to cope with and handle her own problems. Don’t take that opportunity away from her.
2. Ask your camp if they can connect you with another camper for a phone or Skype chat session. This will help your kid get a real sense of what camp is like—and maybe, as a bonus, to have one friendly face that’s recognizable on the bus!
3. Tell your kid homesickness is totally normal. If you miss something or someone when you’re at camp, that’s actually a really nice thing—it means that there is something or someone about home that you love! I’m planning on breaking out my old letters from my mom to me at camp— which reveal that I too was a crying, sniveling mess.
4. Reassure your camper, letting them know everything at home will be okay while they are gone. When you send letters, even if you spent the morning crying about missing little Billy, please don’t write that in the letter! Write positive, news-laden letters that reinforce the idea that things are great…while not sending the message “everything is even more amazing without you here.”
Did that help? Are you still nervous? Me too. Feel free to send me tips! Sigh.
For the last four summers, whenever my wife, Cynthia, and I have put our son, Jonah, on the bus to sleepaway camp we have experienced one of those rare moments couples share: we not only find ourselves on the same page, we find ourselves on the exact same line on that page. We see in each other’s expressions an identical mix of anxiety and relief. We are concerned about how our son will fare, of course, but we’re also free. Yes, to turn this into a very bad joke, we are free at last!
Still, our particular sense of emancipation has to do with the fact that Jonah, who has autism, is a constant in our everyday life. As we are in his. (I’m sure Jonah, once he’s on that bus, is equally relieved to be on his own and free of us.) Every member of a special needs family is well-acquainted with the joys and stresses of what is, after all, an extremely heightened kind of inseparability. Call it Togetherness Squared. All of which may explain why when I first talked to Sid Milech, director of Montreal’s YM-YWHA Harry Bronfman Y Country Camp (YCC), about a new program he’s inaugurating this summer called the Special Needs Family Camp, I had my doubts.
The program, one of the first of its kind in Canada, will make the facilities of the YCC, located in Quebec’s scenic Laurentian Mountains, available to special needs families for a long weekend in mid-August, after the camp’s regular summer sessions are done. Every family will have a cabin to themselves and be able to participate, as families, in the camp experience. That includes the special needs kids themselves, who will be accompanied by a “buddy” provided by YCC, the siblings of the special needs kid, who will participate with their peers in a wide range of camp activities, and, finally, their parents. Again I have to confess, this sounded to me, at first hearing, like a remake of The Shining—a family all alone in a cabin the woods. Still, the more Milech explained how the program works the better this kind of family togetherness started to sound.
For one thing, parents will have a lot of time to themselves during the long weekend, time to enjoy the camp’s surrounding and time to spend not worrying, for a change, about what their kids are doing and how to structure their time. Milech is still assembling his staff for the session, hiring “buddies” and counselors. He also has a psychologist and a Montreal rabbi, with a background in special needs, on board. It’s the best of both worlds, Milech explained when we talked. “This is meant to be a family holiday, a supervised holiday, true. But, most of all, it is intended to give everyone a break,” he said.
Milech’s Special Needs Family Camp is closely patterned after Tikvah Family Camp, a program run by Camp Ramah in New York’s Poconos region. Tikvah Family Camp started six years ago and Adena Sternthal has been its director for the last five years. It also takes place in mid-August, after the regular camp session is done. That’s when Sternthal makes room for 15 to 20 families, primarily families with kids, between four and 13, on the autism spectrum. Sternthal has come to appreciate how much Tikvah Family Camp means to its participants.
“Visiting theme parks and other more typical vacations aren’t always easy for families with kids on the spectrum and for a lot of our families this is their only real vacation. The parents are always telling me this is what they talk about all year long,” Sternthal pointed out. “They also tell me how amazed they are to have the chance to see their kids do things they never thought they could do, like being out on the rope course or enjoying the water. For our part, we want the special needs kids to experience things they haven’t experienced before. We will take them out on the water, in a rowboat, for example, and if it takes two hours to do it, to make them comfortable, we’ll wait. We’re not going anywhere.”
One of the unexpected consequences of Tikvah Family Camp, and Milech expects this to be the case in his Special Needs Family Camp too, is the way parents from these families bond, develop their own unique kind of togetherness. “We provide them with connections with other parents who are in the same boat,” Sternthal added.
Then she related a recent anecdote that illustrates the impression Tikvah Family Camp made on one family, in particular. “Last year was their second summer with us and at the end of the weekend, after everyone had said goodbye, this family came to my office and asked if they could speak to me. I thought, ‘Oh, my God, what happened that I didn’t know about, am I in trouble? Instead, they handed me an envelope. Inside was cash and a lot of it. They said they wanted me to have this money so another family who can’t afford the camp can come next year. I became a mess at that point. So when you ask me how the families feel about this camp, there’s your answer.
For more information on Montreal’s YCC Special Needs Family Camp, visit their website here.
For more information on the Tikvah Family Camp, visit their website here.
I can’t wait for my daughter to go to camp and learn how to talk to boys.
My parents claim I walked into my room at 13, picked up my swatch phone and didn’t reemerge until I was 17. There were concerns that they would have to surgically remove that thing from my ear. Now as my daughter is entering that same phase, I actually wish she would pick up the phone. Her conversations are all done through texts—it’s like Pavlov’s dog waiting for that bing to come from her “friends.” I wonder if this can even be considered a conversation:
What r u doin’
Hangin with DK. Bball. U
Like my insta pic
Put me in ur bio
C u ltr
Yup, they are besties. She will see this same boy when we are out doing an errand in town and they’ll give each other that teen head tilt greeting and maybe mumble something that resembles a hello. God forbid they should actually talk to each other, especially when they’re with their parents no less (apparently, it is totally uncool to have parents—unless 12 kids need to be transported somewhere or accompanied to the midnight preview of Fault in Our Stars then it is completely acceptable).
As it turns out, this social media stuff isn’t all that social. We have a generation of kids that can barely muster the courage to call each other to borrow a forgotten text book, make an after school plan or chat long into the night pushing the limits on bedtime (maybe if we played up this part, they would be more apt to do it.) Thank God for grandparents and other relatives that still use a landline or my kids would never have learned how to have a conversation on a phone. I make it a point of teaching my kids how to talk to adults—they thank their coaches after every game and practice: if they can’t find their size in a store, it is up to them to ask a salesperson for help and as soon as they could; they order for themselves in a restaurant. But I can’t teach them how to talk to boys.
I married one of those guys I talked on the phone long into the night. And learned how to talk to him, and other boys, at camp. In this video we made to talk about camp one of the girls says “the girls are my sisters; the boys are like my brothers.” Truer words have never been spoken. We learned to swim together, ate together, lead song session together. Everyone is cool at camp. What made us different and unique was celebrated, where in middle school we may have been made fun for the very same thing. We learned how to be part of a community and get things done—and sometimes that included sharing secrets of who liked who.
Even if these days our main form of communication is just a text to share old song lyrics that popped into my head or just to say I am here for you when you need me, I consider my camp guy friends some of my closest based on those early years. I hope my daughter will be able to build a foundation like this too, creating deep friendships that last a lifetime.
Yes, yes, I know…there is a woman in Manhattan who will pack your kids’ bags for camp for around a thousand dollars. No, seriously. I read about it in the New York Post here. They’ll get the “right” sheets of the appropriate thread count, as well as all the bunk-decorating paraphernalia/crap one could possibly imagine. Gotta use up that $1000 somehow.
In the piece, “social researcher” Wednesday Martin says there’s a new crop of professionals who hyperfocus on catering to the administrative aspects of child-rearing. “Women who are Type A, hard-driving, competitive career moms—that is, being a mom is their career—can hire staff, assistants, professional organizers to help them do it better,” she said.
Isn’t it strange how it’s a mark of status in our culture to outsource things? Rather than cooking a delightful dinner for ourselves, a truly fancy celebration is marked by going to a restaurant – or, to take it up a notch, by hiring a personal chef to come in and whip up magic. There are tons of industries set up so as to take advantage of our latent insecurities—”I can’t cook an amazing meal, but some person who trained at Le Cordon Bleu can!”—and, of course, our latent laziness.
If you look at camp as a whole through this kind of lens, it might even seem that we are outsourcing our parental duties for the summer.
But this isn’t the case.
Camp is a testing ground for our kids to be themselves in a way that they simply can’t be at home. Their friends, their families, and even we, have our own perceptions of our kids that aren’t so easy to shake. “Oh, he’s the oldest—he’s the responsible one.” “Oh, she would NEVER take a leading role in a musical: she’s so shy!” At home, they struggle with their regular roles in family, activities and school, and with parental expectations. In contrast, camp is a place to experiment with one’s self, free of preconceptions and expectations, and to have fun.
So why, then, do I think it’s important for kids to be involved in packing for camp, rather than outsourcing it to someone who can do all the dirty work? Because believe me, I’ve been Googling the “right” socks on the Internet for about a week now, and definitely have better ways to spend my time.
Camp is perhaps the most independent your child has ever been, up until this point. And packing for camp is a chance to teach them that independence comes with responsibility.
Don’t get me wrong—my kids are 9 and 10, and I’m not prepared to let them pack entirely for themselves. I am, however, prepared to let them do the first round and to check their work, as it were (“Yes, soap is not an optional item.”).
Packing together also provides the opportunity to talk about any questions or concerns about camp, and to address them with your child. And when it comes down to it, I’d say that’s worth well over $1000.
There always was the honeymoon. Then people started taking babymoons—a trip when they were pregnant, before their world was turned upside-down by a kid. Now I am getting ready for my seven week long CAMP-MOON. Obviously, I think camp is the best thing since sliced bread for all the right reasons—kids come home more independent, they develop new skills like leadership and community building, they’re better swimmers and can zipline with the best of them. They are more engaged Jewishly, may have led a service or sang a blessing, or were just in the company of great role models. And then there are a few more reasons, selfish ones, that we often don’t talk about.
I love my kids—with every ounce of my being. I love kissing their heads after they are fast asleep, I love how they cheer me down a ski mountain and I return the favor by cheering from the sidelines at umpteen softball and soccer games a year (we won’t mention the trips to the ER , really, I could live without those). I even love the late night questions. Tonight I got hit with “Mommy, we don’t believe in Jesus but we believe in Chinese medicine, right?” and “If twins are born at 11:59 pm on Monday and 12:01 am on Tuesday are they still twins? What if those days were New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day?” (Thank you, Google for confirming that they still are twins. Apparently my saying so just wasn’t enough).
Even though I long for all of this when they’re gone, I love sending my kids off to camp so I get the chance to reconnect—with myself, my friends and my husband. Who are we kidding? By reconnecting I really mean, eating. That bus pulls out of the parking lot, and my husband and I whip out our restaurant wish-list and start making reservations. Come on, anyone that just packed two kids for camp (while holding down a full time job) definitely deserves a cocktail. We have been waiting 10 months for this (live 10 for 2!).
So maybe it is a little more than a gluttonous journey through NYC’s finest. It is the time my husband and I have to actually have a conversation that doesn’t revolve around logistics, grades and rules for texting that we can barely enforce. We fall in love with each other all over again. These few weeks give me time to carve out real conversations with my girlfriends, not just a call them from the train to confirm that one of us is pawning off our kid on the other that weekend so we don’t have to pay for a babysitter.
Sure I miss my kids, miss their sleepy morning faces and shuttling them around from place to place. Even though I swear I won’t, I scan those camp pictures like every other Jewish mother. But I cherish the time I have with my husband. I love not having to make a train and run through the station, praying I make it to a game to see my 10 year old pitch. Each day will inevitably start the same “Honey I can’t possibly go out again tonight” A green juice for breakfast, a salad for lunch and by 3:00…”a two-top please! We are on our camp-moon.”
It’s been almost a year, yet I still can’t quite forget the odor that permeated the car as we drove my son home from camp last year. He’d been away for almost four weeks, and though the day was pleasant up in the Hudson Valley, he requested air conditioning in the car. We obliged and closed the windows. Not five minutes later, the smell presented itself.
“What smell?” my son responded. I looked in the rearview mirror at him to see his smile, but saw none. He was genuinely curious.
“Hon, is it possible that you packed a dead animal in your bag?” I asked. “Or maybe an animal crawled into your duffel bag and died there? Because it smells unbelievable.”
“I don’t smell anything,” he responded, without a trace of sarcasm. “And no way, Mom, nothing died in my bag.”
“You realize,” my husband muttered to me as he turned off the air and cracked the windows, “that means this is a smell he is USED to.”
I turned around in the front seat to get a better look at him. And was immediately sorry I had.
The boy had taken off his shoes. Correction: he had taken off shoes that I didn’t recognize. These were shoes that were gray and hideously disfigured, pockmarked by holes, stains and unidentifiable sticky things. I’m sad to say that the socks underneath them were similar in both color and condition.
“My GOD! PUT THOSE SHOES BACK ON!” I said as I held my nose.
“You think it’s the shoes?” my son said with genuine curiosity. He leaned forward to sniff them, like a patron at a fine dining establishment presented with a particularly esoteric vintage.
“DON’T SMELL THEM!” I practically yelled. “Yes, it’s the shoes! Or maybe the disgusting socks! Didn’t the camp have laundry?”
“Yes,” he replied. “But I only used it for my dirty stuff.”
I shuddered, thinking of what awaited me in the “clean stuff” duffel bag. “But whose shoes are those?” I asked. “What happened to the shoes we bought the day before you left for camp?”
“Huh?” he responded. “Mom, these ARE the shoes we bought the day before camp.”
Reader, I can assure you that the sneakers I had purchased for camp were bright blue with a streak of orange. These shoes looked like they had emerged from Pompeii. And then fallen victim to a mudslide.
I tell you this story as a reminder to both you and I as we prepare to Pack for Camp, an activity involving multiple Sharpies and often multiple trips to Target and online shopping locales of your choice. The morals of this story, which we should take to heart in these times:
1. Assume nothing you send to camp will return anywhere near the condition in which you sent it.
2. Except, in my case, the unopened shampoo bottle. But that is another disgusting story for another day.
3. Therefore, there is no real point to getting “nice” things for camp. Camp isn’t supposed to be about things anyway.
4. When they eventually come home from camp, do yourself a favor and open the duffel bag outside. While wearing a hazmat suit.
Here in New York, the temperature is eking up into the 70s, and after continuous blizzards this winter, I couldn’t be happier! This weekend I celebrated as most New Yorkers with tragically little closet space do—I took out my summer clothes. And amongst the sundresses and tank tops, I found the cutest white skirt that definitely didn’t belong to me. OOPS. You see, last summer’s camp visits brought me to southern California, and I was in need of some white clothing for Shabbat. I was in a bit of a bind, so I happily accepted when a fabulous friend (and old bunkmate!) offered to lend me a white skirt. And here we are, one year later, and I still have that skirt. (Sorry Melissa!)
And then I laughed. How many times did I come home as a camper with clothing that didn’t belong to me? I remember my mom’s frustration when it came time to do post-camp laundry and she’d find shirts and dresses that she’d never seen before. “Why do I even buy you summer clothes?!” she would say. But trading clothing was just a part of camp life. Most Friday afternoons were spent finding a Shabbat outfit from a bunkmate’s cubby before someone else called it. And sometimes, if you liked it enough, if you were really lucky, that friend would let you take it home with you.
Those were my most treasured items of clothing. Looking back at photos, I’m sure it wasn’t that I looked any better in them; I was an awkward pre-teen all year long. But wearing them reminded me of faraway friends and gave me the courage to “try on” something new. And though not always as tangible as a dirty shirt, that’s the important stuff I brought home from camp every summer. At a time in my life where every day was a new (and sometimes scary) adventure of figuring out who I wanted to be, my summers at camp provided a safe place for me to try new activities, practice being “me,” and yes—try out some new clothing styles.
So if you send off your kid this summer with a duffel full of new camp clothes, only to find what looks like someone else’s return, take a deep breath. Maybe those new white sheets were perfect for tie-dying, or the hoodie you bought was the latest victim of paint twister. Or maybe your kid exchanged lucky socks with their new best friend. Whatever comes home in that bag, know that they are the remnants of a summer well-lived. They are the reminders of new skills, new interests, and new friendships. They are the physical proof that your kid tried something new. And no doubt they will be smelly. Wash those things quick.
If you attend a pre-camp orientation session, or meeting with a camp director over the school year, I guarantee you will hear these words. In any audience of such a gathering, along with the cookies and coffee, there will be the following four attendees:
The Wise Parent: The wise parent is the one who has had three children attend the camp in question before for multiple summers. These parents already know that this camp is perfect for their children. In fact, they have already booked tickets for a childless trip to Europe departing within hours of the camp bus pulling out of the parking lot. They will ask questions relating to whether or not the camp’s policy on electronics has changed from previous years, and whether there have been any changes to the campus over the year. Their questions reflect their knowledge, not their lack thereof.
The Wicked Parent: This parent is usually not in attendance at such events, but when he or she is, he or she is 100% sure that their little star is going to be the cream of the crop at camp. They are positive that the child will love the camp, whether it’s because they themselves went there or they too really want to book the childless trip to Europe. They are unwilling to consider that perhaps their child isn’t ready for a full summer away, or perhaps their child has been trying to tell them as much for weeks. They have no questions, because how the camp handles homesickness is something that concerns other people—not them.
The Simple Parent: These parents have never sent their child to this particular overnight camp. They have no idea that they have to fill out approximately 1,000 pages of forms, notarized and in triplicate. They do not understand that packing is not going to be a rush job to be done the night before. They have never sat watching an episode of Game of Thrones while simultaneously labeling 300 pairs of underwear with a Sharpie. They ask naïve questions like, “Will my kid have a good time?” to which the answer is, “Yes.”
The Parents Who Do Not Know How To Ask: These parents have never sent their children to overnight camp, or perhaps have a newborn child at home. In any case, they have no idea what questions to ask. They are stunned when people debate whether or not the camp policy on iPod Touches should change—it is news to them that the camp has such a policy and, also, they also do not really understand what an iPod Touch is. They wonder why there is a packing list—can’t parents just figure out what a kid will need over the summer? At these meetings, it becomes increasingly clear to these parents that they in fact have absolutely no clue what their kid will be doing at camp over the summer, or what he needs in order to do it. Before they leave the meeting, they will take the email address of a Wise Parent, and hope for the best.
For the last few days, I’ve been walking around the house singing and dancing more or less in tune and in time with the Pharrell Williams song “Happy.” The reason is simple and seems, at first glance, rather materialistic.
You see, my wife, Cynthia, applied for a First-Time-Camper Grant for our son, Jonah, from a program called One Happy Camper and she got it. We received a $1,000 credit towards Jonah’s stay at sleep-away camp this summer. His eligibility for the money hinged on four facts. First, he’s Jewish and lives in Montreal where Federation CJA (Combined Jewish Appeal) partners with the Foundation for Jewish Camp in sponsoring the program. (Similar partnerships have been set up in close to 40 other communities across the U.S. and Canada.) Second, Jonah is going to a Jewish camp this summer. Third, he doesn’t attend a Jewish Day School. And, fourth, he will be attending camp for longer than 19 days, or a full session, for the first time. Those are the questions Cynthia spent a few minutes answering the online the other morning at OneHappyCamper.org. By the afternoon, Jonah’s camp had received the money on his behalf.
And while the $1,000 is great, it’s not the money that has me smiling and singing off-key. It’s the fact that it was so easy to get. I’m a writer who has both received government grants for projects and served on juries for other writers applying for those grants. I know how complicated most bureaucratic procedures can be. I know how much time and emotional energy it can devour. I’m also the father of a son with autism, as I’ve mentioned here before, which means my wife and I have spent a fair amount of time, spare and otherwise, jumping through hoops, filling out forms, and cutting through red tape just to get our son the services he requires. With One Happy Camper, the premium that was put on ease and simplicity was what my family appreciates most. Oh yes, my son’s autism was not a factor one way or another in this funding, which was also nice for a change.
“We want to make this as easy as possible for families,” Veronica Klein told me when we spoke the other day. Klein is a professional associate at the Generations Fund Jewish Camp Initiative, Federations CJA, and has been overseeing the One Happy Camper program in Montreal since 2008. “The idea behind the grant is to offer it as a kind of coupon, a spark or incentive for someone who does not attend Jewish Day School but who can still be able to experience that immersive quality of Jewish life at camp.”
Klein describes herself as a product of the Jewish summer camp experience as well as the Montreal community. She started going to camp when she was 12. That led to working with the community and working with kids here in Montreal and in the U.S. Klein could also be the poster person for the proven long-term impact and influence Jewish summer camp appears to have on its participants. Research seems to show that Jewish overnight camp can turn kids like Klein “into spirited and engaged Jewish adults” and “lay the groundwork for strong Jewish communities.”
“Camp is fun,” Klein adds. “But it’s not just flip-flops and canoes. Statistics bear this out. For example, kids who attend Jewish overnight camp are 10% more likely to marry inside their faith and 25% more likely to contribute to a Jewish charity. A program like ours is just another way to invest in the Jewish future.”
For me, it’s even simpler than that. I’m just pleased to know that there’s a good idea out there being executed efficiently. And because it is, my family and I are all happier campers.
For more info on One Happy Camper, visit their website here.