Abandoned Memories of Youth

Last night, I met a young lady my son was taking to an event later that night.  We talked, and I found out that she had grown up not far from a sleepaway camp I had gone to for several years in Northern New Jersey.

Memories of youth can be pleasant.

Sometimes, though, memories of youth end up in a not so good place - ruined, vandalized, and published by abandoned places explorers on You Tube.

Here's my story:

I grew up in a New York City housing project, and by the definition of a particular non profit, my family was considered poor.  So I was eligible to be sent to a sleep away camp in Sussex, New Jersey, opened in 1924, and run by a Jewish Fresh Air Camp association (yes, I was a Fresh Air child - of sorts). Its attendees were "orphans and poor children".  Mel Brooks, among a handful of famous people, went to this camp.

The camp closed in 2005, and has been extensively vandalized.

In researching this throwback, I found that the site was finally sold at auction last year, and may be reopened as a nonprofit children's camp for children from Korea.  However, a quick Internet search hasn't dug up anything as of the end of camping season 2017.  I did find, on one of the Facebook groups devoted to Camp Sussex alumni, a post that not much has been done as of this past June.

One can only hope that, by next year, this may not be a nostalgia backfire.

Here's one of my several posts on this particular memory, from several years ago:

Another Reason Why I Can't Go Home Anymore

One more reason why trying out nostalgia can bite you in the you-know-where.

I sometimes surf around Facebook and type in stuff from my past, just to see what comes up.

Today I decided to type in the name of my sleepaway camp.  It wasn't just any sleepaway camp.  You see, as a child of public housing growing up in the Bronx in the early 60's, the fact that my parents didn't own a car, and their income made me a disadvantaged urban youth.  Luckily, I didn't know that growing up and I wouldn't have cared.

Through a elementary school friend, I found out about a camp in northern New Jersey called Camp Sussex. A good childhood friend went there.  She lived in a different housing project so was disadvantaged, too. Since she was going, I wanted to, also.  Three weeks away from home.  It would be my first time away from home, at this camp for poor kids.  So poor, we weren't even expected to bring our own clothes.  The camp provided them.  The camp provided everything, including transportation from Manhattan.

I went to camp and a couple of things happened that first day.

First, my friend treated me like I didn't exist.

The second was, I was massively homesick.  I ended up in the infirmary overnight, as I had somehow worked myself into a fever.  Literally.

I was shown a lot of kindness there, and reported to my bunk first thing the next morning.  I never looked back.  I survived being snubbed by my "friend" and made other friends.

This camp was located in a then-rural area of northern New Jersey.  It was surrounded by beautiful hills.  There was a lake [Lake Glenwood].  There were hiking trails (rumored to contain quicksand pits and lethal snakes).  There was the opportunity to put on a camp musical.  Every dinner, before the prayer (yes, there was a religious element to this camp) we sang "Be Kind to Your Web Footed Friends".

We woke up to "Reville", made our bunks, had an inspection, watched a counselor raise the America flag.  We listened to "taps" at Lights Out.

Many of the camp counselors were college students.  I became friends with one in particular, a student at Bryn Mawr [a women's liberal arts college back then, and still today].  We wrote to each other for months after that session but lost touch.

I had my first crush at Camp Sussex, and my first "boyfriend".

Years later, my cousin married someone who had gone to Camp Sussex.  And at work, for several years, I sat near a former Camp Sussex counselor.  Problem was, she was born the last year I went.  So we didn't speak about it much.  Now, I wish we had.

Anyway, I had known that the camp had never quite changed its mission, but had gone through bad times and finally closed around 2005.  There were hopes to turn it into a sports camp, an "education through sports" camp.  Derek Jeter's father was somehow supposed to be involved.

Well, on Facebook, I found out, as Paul Harvey used to say, "The rest of the story".

The closed camp has been severely vandalized.  It was alleged that the local police had never been too happy about the camp being there (I guess we disadvantaged kids polluted the place?).   Over the years, the rural area had become urbanized and the local youth had their way with my beloved camp.  The camp hadn't been secured, anyone could just walk in, and the police didn't seem to care too much. (in all fairness, I only know one side of the story.)  Bottom line, it would take over a million dollars just to get the camp fixed up enough to even begin about reopening.

There were pictures on Facebook showing the damage. (there's even a 3 minute short on You Tube documenting some of the damage.)  My heart broke, seeing those beautiful hills for the first time in over 40 years. And, on two Facebook sites, I saw discussions among some of over 400 people who belonged to a fraternity of former campers, counselors and even administrators.  They loved Camp Sussex.  I loved it in some ways, too, because it showed me there was a lot more to life than the streets of the Bronx.

Know what?  I wish I could find out how all of us "disadvantaged youth" of Camp Sussex turned out.  How many of us are professionals?   People who have made life better for others? (The talented Mel Brooks was one.)  And, for how many of us, did Camp Sussex make a difference?

I wish I didn't know about the vandalism, though.

Sometimes you just can't go back home.  How I sometimes envy people who can!