One of the highlights of our trip to Cape Cod was a visit to S.’s summer camp, Wingate Kirkland, which, in a sense, is where he grew up. He spent 10 summers there, starting at age 8. I’m learning that camp is kind of a thing in the Northeast. Everybody went to camp.
I went to cheerleading camp (which doesn’t really count) and smart-kid camp (the Kentucky Governor’s Scholars Program), which does count but it was only one summer. GSP was five weeks, and I never wanted to leave. It’s not surprising, then, that after visiting Camp Wingate Kirkland, I want to go there! Like next summer. And every summer thereafter.
It’s the quintessential camp complete with a lake, a beach, a frog pond, a frog bog, a campfire, soccer fields, a basketball court where S. dominated (by his own account), a first aid cabin called “Redwood” (guess why), where S. once woke up from a concussion after
flying too close to the sun falling on the basketball court, and a barn-type gathering place known as the “Leoj,” which is the founder’s name spelled backwards, duh! There’s also a pet pig (mini), a new addition since S.’s time, and the cutest darn cabins you ever saw (one of which still has S.’s name and those of his bunk mates scrawled on the wall)! It was like I’d died and gone to camp heaven, that is how perfectly campy Wingate Kirkland is. We had a great time!