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Love Letters ... To Camp

Truth Thursday

One of the few visceral memories I have from my days at Camp Hillcroft was the time I received a long letter from my father, in which he spoke to me as if I were already much more grown up than I felt.  I don’t remember the actual words or content of what he wrote, only that it made me feel special and loved and very, very close to him.

I believe some of his thoughts were about how much I prattled on about the boys at camp, and how he was worried that such trivial thoughts would trample my intellectual acumen and even more importantly, get me hurt. He was and is a quiet philosopher, my father, even though, as anyone who knows him knows, he couches it in biting sarcasm and quotidian wit. But underneath it all, he is a deep thinker who deeply loves and cares about those few people he lets into his life. 

I’ve been thinking about that letter, long lost in the detritus of many moves, as I write to my almost-12-year-old son at camp this summer. This is his third summer, and his longest stint yet – he will be away from home for six weeks.

We are into Week Three, and to date I have sent him one letter that was mailed in time to be there when he arrived, one letter right before I left for an overseas trip, one postcard from said overseas trip, and another letter just today.  None of the letters I sent were deep or meaningful. They were newsy, breezy.  All the experts tell you not to tell your child you miss them when you write to them – and the fact is, I don’t. Not really.  As I tell my family anytime I go on a work trip, I don’t miss anyone for the first week. Then, in the second week, I start to get a little ache.

Not the Corner Office

Truth Thursday

Halleluyah.  An article about mothers who work outside of the home that doesn’t focus in on the so-called “mommy wars” about SAHMs and WOHMs.  One that doesn’t force our hand in the “lean-in” debate. One that doesn’t say that you can’t have a rewarding career without giving up a lot at home, and vice versa.

Instead, the New York Times article last week, entitled, “Coveting Not A Corner Office, But Time At Home” describes my ambition to a tee.  I want a rewarding career, one in which my work is valued and I enjoy my organization’s mission and think my colleagues are interesting, dynamic, complex people with whom to work. I want some modicum of recognition for a job well done, and for a career with a long trajectory of relative success. 

But I don’t want any of it to come at the expense of my family life. My home, with my spouse and children within its four walls, is the sanctuary of my world. I love those four people more than anything else, and their happiness, well-being and success is one of my key objectives. I want to be there as much as I can to enjoy their company, make them dinner, accompany them to their various activities, and cheer them on when they play soccer or field hockey, or win an award, or need a shoulder to cry on, or fail a test, or take a big step in their own ongoing life stories.

I am one of the most fortunate people I know, because I have found a way to have both. Between my more than a decade of consulting work, and now, with a flexible and family friendly office and an understanding supervisor and staff, I have been able to carve out a work life that gives me what I need in the office, as well as supports my need to take care of my family. It almost never asks me to choose between the two.

Liminality

Truth Thursday

We gazed at the moon, and heralded the end of Shabbat, the day of rest. We blessed the wine, the candlelight, the scents of the earth, put our arms around each other’s waists and welcomed a new week with a song I used to sing in a whisper to my children when they were young:  "shavua tov, shavua tov -- a good week, a week of peace, may gladness reign and joy increase."

It was a beautiful bar mitzvah ceremony and party, on the night of the fullest, brightest moon of the year, and, coincidentally, on the summer solstice, so it was also the longest day of the year, and the one with the most light.

For me, it harkened back to the darkest, shortest day and night of the year, just six months ago, when I was sitting on the precipice of change.

I’m still not sure what has been the hardest transition for me, in this season of many transitions. Moving back into full-time work, with office and managerial responsibilities? Turning 50? Lying in wait for my oldest child to graduate from high school and begin his college career?

These big three seem to have all collided … and colluded to make me feel very unsteady over these past six months.

Independence Day

Truth Thursday

I did not grow up with an appreciation for our country. My family was not patriotic in any way. In fact, we were probably a little anti-patriotic.  Although my parents were too old to really be part of the counter culture, they both cared about issues of social justice and fairness, and in those days, the Left did not embrace the flag.

It wasn’t until I worked for a pro-immigration advocacy organization that I began to understand and appreciate the great privilege it is to live in this country, and the great lengths to which people from all over the world will go to come here and try to build a life here.

During the time I was in that job, our own world came toppling down, and 9/11 was a moment where everyone, no matter their political stripes, believed in America. It was the moment when the Democrats reclaimed the flag as a powerful symbol of what it means to care about your country in a way that mirrors my own upbringing – with a deep devotion to equality and justice for all. 

In my next job, I had a co-worker from England who became a citizen, and I went to his naturalization ceremony.  Over 800 people from all over the world had their names called out as they intoned the pledge of allegiance to this nation.  And just last month, I attended my son’s high school graduation ceremony where over 700 teens took their place in the world as young adults – with well over half of the graduates bearing names from foreign countries.

This is a great country. We are so fortunate to be a nation of immigrants, to be a safe haven, and to be the world’s largest democracy. We are lucky to have freedom of choice in terms of where we live, how we pray, where we send our children to school, how we dress, eat, and live our lives. Yes, there are many problems, not the least of which is the enormous divide between wealth and poverty.  But the hope and the promise is ever there – the opportunity to do better, rise up, become successful, and live a good life. 

Egg on Toast -- Plus

Meal Monday

It's not always easy to come up with a nutritious, tasty breakfast. Duh. There's the cereal route; the very green juice route, the coffee and doughnut routine, etc. But as I was sitting in the dermatologist's waiting room the other day, flipping through Shape Magazine, I happened upon the exclusive three-month plan, "The Beach Body Diet." 

I ignored most of it and went immediately to the recipes. Mea culpa, I tore out the page and made this Breakfast Bruschetta the other day. It's good for breakfast, but we had it for lunch and it was delicious. The key, as always, is using the freshest and ripest ingredients (we had farmer's market eggs, fresh baked rye bread, a perfectly ripe avocado and rosemary from my backyard container herb garden).

Delicious and oh so good for you.

Breakfast Bruschetta

1. Toast whole grain sourdough or rye bread.

2. Spread each slice of bread with 1/2 mashed avocado, sprinkle with lemon juice and sea salt.

3. Top with a fried egg, fresh rosemary and ground pepper to taste.