One girl had a case of Evian water shipped to her cabin.
One dad sent surgical scrubs to everyone in his son’s bunkhouse.
And one camp director decided things had gone far enough when he opened a parcel and discovered the camper had received a cell phone.
The humble care package shipped to summer camp–once the stuff of Archie comic books and illicit home-baked cookies–is increasingly being stuffed with expensive luxuries and even electronics, prompting fed-up administrators to impose strict limits and even all-out bans.
“It’s all about the parents topping one another,” sighed Jay Jacobs, head of Timber Lake Camp in New York’s Catskill Mountains, which now restricts children to one delivery every other week–and only then from an approved vendor. “But people still find ways to break the rules…. So now we’re like the customs department. Everything has to be inspected.”
On the verboten list at many camps: TVs, PalmPilots, CD players, walkie-talkies, designer clothing.
“We’re all fighting the same battles,” said Jacobs, a 41-year veteran of the business. “But the camp directors I really feel sorry for are the ones who have cell service in their area.”
For a generation raised in affluence, being weaned from upscale toys is a challenge, even with a dawn-to-dusk slate of swimming, canoeing, hiking and water-skiing.
But transforming a log cabin into the family den ratchets up peer pressure and defeats the purpose of camp, many directors said.
“This should be a sanctuary from all that,” said Rodger Popkin, head of Blue Star Camp in Hendersonville, N.C.
The avalanche of gifts also can foster a competitiveness that is “very destructive” to the group dynamic, Popkin said. To thwart such excess, he has imposed a strict quota of one package per four-week session. If a second parcel arrives, it is returned.
“There can be some hurt feelings–especially when both a divorced mom and dad send packages,” Popkin said. “But we had to do it because parents couldn’t–or wouldn’t–limit themselves.”
Don Cheley, owner of Cheley Colorado Camps in Estes Park, has had to confiscate about a dozen cell phones from campers in recent years, either sent by parents in care packages or smuggled into duffel bags.
“Game Boys, CD players, electronics … that’s not what camp is about,” he said. “It is about building community.”
The problem began building in the mid-1990s, according to directors, who said they’ve been reluctant to confront such a touchy subject. But the nation’s heightened state of alert following Sept. 11 has provided an opportunity to rein in the lavishness while also protecting campers’ safety.
Citing security concerns, Camp Chi in Lake Delton, Wis., will no longer accept packages unless they come from one of three approved vendors or are ordered through the camp’s own canteen.
“Given all that has transpired in America, this is one reasonable precaution we could put in place,” said Ron Levin, director of the camp, run by the Jewish Community Centers of Chicago.
At Sealed With a Kiss, one of the vendors approved by 650 camps, including Timber Lake and Camp Chi, the new policies have kept the phone ringing and Web site humming. Owner Julie Winston expects the firm’s 55 employees to ship 17,000 camp packages by summer’s end, an increase of 15 percent over last season, she said.
“It’s a different world today,” said Winston, who started her venture 19 years ago with working mothers–not bioterrorism–in mind.
Prices for the packages start at $28, which typically includes a plush toy, puzzles, games and an item for bunkmates to autograph.
Parents’ reactions mixed
Linda Cosby of Glenview said she chafes at being limited to the three companies on Camp Chi’s list. In the past, when she sent parcels for her sons, she took pride in choosing items that reflected their individual interests rather than some generic tchotchkes.
“If this is really about anthrax, why not ban letters?” she asked.
But Shelly Marks, whose son is at Blue Star, applauds the tighter rules–especially the one-package-per-session limit–as a blow against consumerism. “Camp should be about doing, not getting,” the Homewood mother said. “What will kids want next? A mint on their pillow?”
Not surprisingly, Jeff Marks, 13, does not share his mother’s enthusiasm. Over the years, the largess to his fellow campers has included Super Soaker water guns and Christmas lights for adorning the cabin.
But he begrudgingly concedes that the limits have merit. “Some kids get packages almost every day, while other kids hardly get anything at all, so I guess it’s good … that kids don’t feel bad.”
Camp officials said setting limits has another benefit: streamlining an increasingly cumbersome inspection process. Because each box is opened to search for contraband, the job of handling, screening and distributing an ever bigger pile of parcels has turned into a logistical nightmare in recent years.
Even seemingly innocent items can wreak havoc in a communal living situation. That stash of Snickers doesn’t look so benign to a child with a life-threatening peanut allergy, and it may lure prowling animals.
Candy in shampoo bottles
Rules against sending food are nothing new–nor is the brazen way in which many parents ignore them. Directors said it is common to find stuffed animals whose contents have been surgically removed and replaced with M&Ms, or shampoo bottles that have been washed out and filled with jelly beans.
And no sooner are new rules in place than campers discover ways to circumvent them. One creative type figured out that packages addressed to staffers sail through the mailroom without a second look, so he made sure his mom sent three dozen brownies to the counselor–who, of course, demanded a cut of the action.
And those approved vendor boxes? Campers send home the empties–so parents can refill them with smuggled goods.
Chalk it all up to the “age of indulgence, ” said Jacobs of Timber Lake, where the tab is $7,250 for an eight-week session.
“It’s not the kids that have changed as much as the parents,” he said. “They’re looking much more to micromanage every aspect of their kids’ lives. They want to be involved in the makeup of the cabin, even the placement of the bed. They want their child to get special treatment, but they’re not helping their kid. Camp should be about being treated like everyone else.”
