The Dirty Dollar

In 1982, I was a freshman at Dartmouth College. I received some great letters from my mother, but one was so special, I still keep it in my wallet 28 years later and counting. The paper is torn along almost all of its three creases. It’s still quite legible, and it still has a one dollar bill tucked neatly inside. I call this my “Dirty Dollar.”

The letter was dated “Saturday,” and I know it was in May (you will see why soon enough).

She began:

Hi,

Thank you for the wonderful Mother’s Day cards – both very appropriate (thank you for considering me your friend!).

Even as a clueless ‘shmen in college, I remembered to send her a Mother’s Day card. And yes, I still consider my mother to be my friend.She continued:

Today, Dad was in the woods getting dirt to plant grass seed over patches of the front lawn, & as he’s walking past a pile of leaves at the beginning of the woods, he spotted the enclosed dirty dollar. He figures it’s yours because you always raked leaves for him.

Admittedly, I still get a bit teary-eyed at that part.

Here’s the final part:

So, how about that, a lucky dollar for you. If you want to, save it, dirt and all. We went shopping for Dad today – he bought three pair of slacks and three shirts! How about that?
How are things up there? Good, I hope. Everything is fine here. We’re having dinner with Sally and John Mack tonight.

Love you, Mommy

A few years after I graduated, I absentmindedly left my wallet somewhere. Sure, I was upset that I had lost my license, which is a pain to get, some money (not too much in there) and maybe a credit card. But what truly bothered me was that I had lost photos of family and friends, and, in particular, my dirty dollar.

Several months had passed, and I received a call from a gas station in Framingham saying that they found my wallet. I jumped in my car to retrieve my belongings. Sure enough, no cash, but everything else was intact, including the dirty dollar. That was a very happy day.

A piece of Dartmouth stationery and an old, dirty dollar bill – priceless.

Cheerio but be back soon

Abby has been living at Camp Tel Noar for the past seven weeks. We have seen her twice. Else, our primary means of communications has been through letters.

As a camper, you write a letter because it is required. You write big, sometimes with markers and fill a small page. As a parent in the 21st century, I type my letters (mainly because my handwriting is horrid), and add photos. I want it to be fun and something she looks forward to receiving. I include the basics of who’s doing what, but I have learned not to ask too many questions because they don’t get answered. Sometimes I send a check list, which she can respond to and send back. Instead of saying, “I miss you,” I might write something like, “I know you’re having a great time” or “I hope you’re trying new things.” Also, including photos of her cousins or her brother “in case she forgot what he looked like,” lets her know she can still have a little part of home while she’s away.

One recent letter from Abby was particularly well written and very funny. This is the unedited version:

Hey,

Today, we had a day trip to York Beach. There, they had an amusement park, a zoo a beach, and a boardwalk. It was in York Maine. The waves were huge. The water ice cold. I bought a chocolate covered banana and maple fudge all for $6. I had so much fun. I miss you. I hope your having a fun summer. Make it last.

Xoxo
Abby

As a camper years ago, the summer flew, and I was sad to leave. I didn’t want to leave my friends and a place on a beautiful lake where I was active nearly 24x7 doing what I loved… sports, sports and more sports. I sprinkled drama, boating and other activities of course, but I loved the community and camaraderie of camp.
Sure enough, I received a letter from Abby the other day stating, “I am so sad to leave camp.” It is comforting to know she loves camp and is having the time of her life. At the same time, she didn’t say, “I don’t want to come home,” which makes me feel good. She can love to be in two places.

Unlike my camper days, Abby isn’t able to call home (unless something is really wrong). On the other hand, years ago, there wasn’t a great Web site called Bunk1.com which the camp uses to post photos and newsletters, to keep the parents informed of the goings-on. It’s fun to scan through the photos and suddenly see her beautiful smiley self appear. Sometimes she is in her Shabbat finest; sometimes she is dressed up for some sort of performance or camp activity.

With all of this, Ari has been loving life as an only child. He attends the Ashland Recreation Department day camp and has been working very hard on his baseball skills. He’s been heavy into his bird watching, and we’re having a lot of fun with him.

So the question remains, do I miss Abby? Hmm. Let’s review the pros and cons of her being away:

Pros: The house stays neat. There is no arguing between children. It is easier to remember to pick up one child from camp. It’s easier to handle just one child, leaving time for fun things for the adults. It is nice to spend time with my youngest child. When he is at a friend’s house or grandparent’s house, the parents get time alone. It is great practice for her and us when she goes to college, provided she goes to college and lives on campus.

Cons: She’s not here to talk with, go shopping with, argue with, clean up after, tell to stop bickering with her brother, tell to read. I can’t pick up a phone to say hi when I’m at work. I can’t drive her to her friend’s house. I can’t watch her new dance moves, or hear her laughter and beautiful voice. I can’t help her make a decision, or be there if she’s sad, or celebrate a success.

There might be just as many pros as cons but the value of the cons outweighs the everyday challenges of life with two kids. And should a parent really evaluate this decision so logically? Admittedly, when Abby first left, it didn’t quite sink in. We saw her only 10 days later when she sang the National Anthem at the Boston Lobsters, and then on Visiting Day at the 3 ½-week mark. We were busy. And although I would think about her, particularly when I’d pass by her very neat room, I didn’t pine away.

But as the saying goes, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Or “You appreciate something when you don’t have it.” I could go on and on with clichés, but the bottom line is she’s my little girl, and I love her. I know I’m doing right by her to send her to camp, but I miss having her around. It’s as simple as that.

Next year, Abby will likely return to her beloved Tel Noar, and her younger brother might be joining her for the second half of the summer. Two kids away at the same time. I had better start preparing myself now. Actually, before that, I need to prepare my washer and dryer for the onslaught of camp clothes.