Maine’s Camp Waziyatah was established in 1922 and it’s where Disney filmed the reality television show “Bug Juice.” This year, nearly two decades after the first episode aired, television crews were shooting again on drop off Day for a Bug Juice revival. Griffin and Ado pretty much ignored them.
They pretty much ignored me too, running off to check out the two water ski boats at the dock, the quaint cabins with old school metal framed bunk beds, and the wooden dining hall that sounds like thunder, I imagine, when full of a couple hundred kids. When I walked in it was quiet, almost empty, echoing how my heart was feeling on the day I would leave my kids behind.
I’m not too worried about them being homesick-their cousins Tia and Sasha are campers too so they’ve got family. And lots of new friends. By the time they get home in one month, Griffin will be doing airborne 360s on his wakeboard and Adrian, I am sure, will be slaloming on a single ski. But both let me kiss and hug them as much as I wanted when we left. They knew I needed it, and I think they needed it too.
We took the long way home, down country roads with exotic names like Moose Look and Dagger Hill. Ethan cranked up the song Dancing Queen on the radio and we sang along–we aren’t young anymore, that’s for sure, but we were feeling free and having a pretty good time, perched on the edge of a different kind of summer. Right before the town of Leeds, Ethan hit the brakes hard.
“Look at that!” he said.
Out the window was a Tyrannosaurus Rex wearing white tennis shoes as it wobbled its way across a field full of dandelions, a Barney-sized head glowering over a Barney-sized body.
“Where’s it going?” I wondered. There were no kids around. There was nobody around. Just a beautiful field with an old barn at the back and a man dressed up in a blow up dinosaur suit. For a moment, I badly wanted our boys back with us, wanted them to see the T-Rex and hear them laugh. Then, the country road curved sharply and a new stretch of life was coming right at us.