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When I was 10 my mother sent me to Pythian Camp in upstate New York.
It was July of 1974, I had never been away from home so I was bit nervous and filled with anxiety the morning mom and I boarded the F-train from Brooklyn over to Manhattan for the bus that would take me to Glen Spey, New York.
Fanny Hyman, our landlord at 228A Prospect Park West had a connection so she thought it would be a good idea for mom to send me away for a few days. At the time I was against it, I wanted to hang out in the schoolyard and play ball with my friends.
Sitting on the train clutching mom’s hand telling her over and over I didn’t want to go.
“You’re going to meet new friends,” she said.
Mom also added that I was going to love it. Yeah, whatever.
Camp was from from July 1 to the 18th. That was a long time for a ten year-old to be away. Plus I didn’t want new friends, I had enough at home.
When mom and I approached the bus I saw a bunch of kids hugging their parents and saying good-bye. They looked happy. Me? Not so much. I had tears rolling down my cheeks as mom kissed me good-bye.
“Use the postcards to write,” she said as I took my seat by the window and waved good-bye.
The trip lasted about two hours. When we arrived I saw a lot of trees and green grass, it looked like Prospect Park.
I soon realized camp was different. For starters I didn’t know anyone. I don’t think I talked to anyone the first day or two. My first friend was Freddie Levine, he was a good dude.
I was disappointed when I found out I couldn’t play basketball. It was arts and crafts. Hiking and Swimming. Things I never did back home.
First couple of days I wasn’t feeling it, I wanted to go home. Like Steve McQueen in the “Great Escape” I was mapping out ways to break out.
I was assigned Bunk #7. Uncle Dave was the counselor, he was cool. Think we were placed in tribes? As the week went on, I warmed up to everyone and actually had a good time.
One thing that stands out from the time there is the Olympic-type competition we had on the last day. There was one event where I was picked for some sort of relay-race, maybe it was a wheel barrel or three-legged race. Regardless, I do know they picked me because of my speed. We won. It was the best feeling I had all week.
When mom showed up on the last day with my Aunt Eleanor, I didn’t want to leave.
It turned to be a great couple of weeks.
About two weeks ago I received an e-mail from an attorney:
Good afternoon,
I am investigating allegations of abuse at Pythian Camp. I would really appreciate if you could give me a call at 845-598-4290 to discuss your experience at Pythian Camp.
I was like, “OH FUCK!”
Staring at my computer screen I read the message again. Is this for real?
I thought about it for a few minutes and tried to figure out what to do?
Hello,
I was at camp in 1976. I did not experience or hear of any abuse. I had the time of my life. It was a great experience for this “city kid.”
(I later realized I was at camp in 1974.)
The camp counselors were cool, so were the campers. No one ever messed with me. I do feel bad for any kid that went through any sort of abuse at camp.
Come to think of it, I’m not sure if I would send my 10 year-old kid to an overnight camp in today’s world.
Those were the days my friends…
Hope all is well. Stay safe and stay healthy.
-Steve
E-Mail: SteveFinamore@yahoo.com