The summer before seventh grade, I met a boy at NJY Camps. Years later, he became my husband. Now, our son is making his own camp memories, just like we did.
I was 11 when my mom took a position at NJY Camps. During the school year, she worked in the Fairfield office, but for the summer she had to live at camp. That meant, for the first time ever, I’d be going away to camp, too.
Because she needed to be on-site before campers arrived, I spent the early days wandering camp with nothing much to do. One afternoon, I stopped by her office. She began introducing me to her coworkers, including Amy, a woman she’d already become fast friends with.
Amy smiled and said, “Oh, my son is here too. Let me introduce you.” We walked to the front office in the main building, where a boy stood at the window. “And this is my son, Robert,” she said.
Robert turned around, and all I saw was floppy brown hair, freckles, and those dimples. I thought he was adorable.
That first summer, not much happened between us. We’d see each other in passing, maybe at an activity or walking across the grounds, and occasionally hang out exploring camp. But our families quickly became friends. Over the years, we’d get together for holidays and dinners, and I always loved visiting his house. We even attended some youth group trips together, including a memorable one to the Hayden Planetarium. I remember we stopped at a Jewish deli; he held the door open for me and bought me a Snapple.
Time went on. I went away to college, and our paths drifted apart. We didn’t see each other for years, until I was 21. My mom hosted a barbecue, and Robert was there. This time, the timing was right. That day was the start of everything. We never looked back.
We built our life in Rockaway, NJ, and eventually welcomed a son. It was always our dream to send him to NJY Camps, so he could have the same kind of Jewish community and formative experiences that had shaped us.
Last summer, our son met a little girl at camp who became special to him. Their friendship blossomed just like ours had, except with FaceTime calls and Roblox games between a kid in Rockaway and a kid in Brooklyn. Our families have become friends, getting together throughout the year.
Watching him make those connections, sharing laughter, Jewish traditions, and the easy bond that only camp can create, feels like seeing our own story come full circle.
Because for us, NJY Camps wasn’t just where I spent my first summer away from home. It was where I met my husband, found my best friend, and started a story that’s still being written today.