I can read your mind, and then change it
Camp means adventure, joy for kids who have never needed it more
This pandemic is making me psychic.
I’ll prove it. I will now use ESP to remotely view you and read your mind. Ready?
OK. I don’t have a crystal ball, so I’m using this empty bottle of Grey Goose. I see you now. Oh, my. What happened to your hair? You haven’t showered since ... Tuesday? You’ve spent more time cooking in the last three months than Gordon Ramsay did in 2005? This viral threat has infected your soul and you’re stressed and anxious and having weird dreams and bingeing Netflix and quite sure you’ll never again wear anything but jogging pants?
OK. Now you’re glancing at your wallet. Your eyes are narrowing. You’re thinking, “Is this psychic imbecile really trying to hit me up for a few bucks to help send an underprivileged child to summer camp during an outbreak when I have a million other worries?”
Short answer: Yes. But I get the reaction.
To be honest, when I heard the Star was proceeding with the Fresh Air Fund this year, it felt a bit like we were trying to hand out sunscreen during a monsoon. Summer camp?
During a contagion?
But at the risk of violating the Star’s confidentiality agreement, I’d like to share a line from an internal email about the Fund that landed in my inbox on Thursday: “This year may feel different but we’re doing the same thing: preparing for a brighter future for our city — and the children.”
This is why I love this crazy place. Screw you, COVID-19. The Fresh Air Fund was established in 1901, when Wilfrid Laurier was prime minister and Ed Sullivan was a newborn in cloth diapers. This tender project, powered by the kindness and generosity of Star readers FOR 119 YEARS, has navigated world wars, the Great Depression, geopolitical change, terrorism, national crises, previous pandemics and even the Kardashians.
Has the coronavirus sideswiped life as we knew it? Yes.
Is it going to run the Fresh Air Fund into a ditch this summer? No.
All children have been rattled by this brutal disruption. I’ve noticed my twin girls’ resting faces have morphed from buoyant to resigned. There is an emotional heaviness to them.
Their world got turned upside down.
But then I think about the kids, unluckier than mine, already in quicksand before life did a somersault. It’s heartbreaking. For some kids, school was the only structure. For some, there are no backyards to play in during quarantine. There are no gadgets to ease the tedium of lockdown. There are no virtual recreational classes. There are no social bubbles to burst the loneliness of this pandemic. There are no texts and bake-offs and bike rides.
There is just isolation and despair.
I get that summer camp sounds ridiculous at this time.
But for those kids, it has never mattered more.
Canoeing? Fishing? Arts and crafts? Hiking? Roasting hot dogs and marshmallows? Telling ghost stories over open fires? Learning new multimedia skills? Meeting new friends? Staring into the night sky and suddenly dreaming of new possibilities?
I’m always amazed by the number of people who can’t remember what they had for lunch yesterday but can recount in vivid detail how they learned in childhood to tie a fisherman’s knot or identify poison ivy at 50 paces. One of those quotation websites has three pages devoted to famous people quipping about summer camp, including The Rock recalling his horseshoe-throwing dominance, Buzz Aldrin on space-flight inspiration and Idina Menzel on the confidence she found in staging theatre shows at a young age.
You can’t put a price on that. Well, you can. The fundraising goal for the Fresh Air Fund this strange year is $650,000. The Star’s charity works with more than 100 residential and day camps, each determined to safely kick-start memorable experiences and give kids a break from the grim uncertainty. And if some camps can’t open this year, donor funds will be used next year.
You have nothing to lose and the kids have everything to gain.
If this pandemic has robbed us all of our creature comforts, imagine what it is doing to the little people who never had any. Imagine how much further ahead a city gets when fewer are left behind.
I feel another psychic wave coming on: thank you for brightening the future.