My grandson Jack is bold about venturing into new arenas. At age 7, he announced he was ready for sleepaway camp, and by the time he turned 8, he thrived in a woodsy environment in Maine, more than 3,000 miles away from what was then his home in the Bay Area. Today he’s passed his 11th birthday and a full summer of overnight camp is his happy place.
At age 7, his sister Lucy wanted no part of sleepaway camp but said “maybe next year.” Now 8, she has since committed to 4 weeks at a camp in the Pocono’s, much closer to where they live on Philadelphia’s Main Line. As Jack has told me, “Lucy is still young.”
Like their mom, neither child has insisted on going to a camp where they know other children. As I’ve told them, the purpose of camp is to meet new friends and try new activities. I’m hoping that Lucy, a child who went racing fearlessly down a slide into a big pool at age 2, will this summer feel more comfortable swimming with her face in the water.
Their grandmother is another story. I smile when people tell me I’m “courageous” or “crazy” for driving from Boston to Philly on a somewhat regular basis. “Why don’t you take the train?”, they say. They offer similar comments about rowing my racing shell solo down the Charles on days windy enough to deter some of my contemporaries. Ditto for traveling abroad, these days with a group.
While enthusiastic about going away to college, going to three different elementary schools and junior high school left me with major anxiety about experiencing change. Even if the change represented an improvement!
Happily, since my daughter and her family have moved back to the East Coast, I have mostly been able to avoid the anxiety of flying, which in my case has nothing to do with worrying that the plane might crash. It has everything to do with worrying that an airline snafu will leave me stranded in the St. Louis airport with few if any decent food options.
Unfortunately, my latest orthopedic malady makes it painful to sit behind the driver’s seat of my Suburu for extended periods of time, and has required that I now think of using Amtrak to get back and forth from Philly. This will push me out of my comfort zone for sure, and not so much amid concerns about delays which are just as likely as traffic snarls that can turn a 5.5 hour drive from Philly to Boston into an 8 hour trip.
When I drive, I don’t have to worry about missing a train or identifying the correct track for my departure. Nor need I worry about the Uber or Lyft driver not showing up. When I drive, I can put all my clothing in a suitcase, and throw everything in a laundry bag for the trip home.
This morning I looked at the Amtrak schedule from Boston to Philly and found it daunting at first. But it’s not rocket science and one of my biggest worries – carrying my suitcase up and down steep flights of stairs has proved unfounded, thanks to the Americans with Disabilities Act. My arrival and departure stations each have elevators.
Just to make sure I don’t screw up a non-refundable online Amtrak billing, I have asked my son-in-law to take a look at what I’ve done.
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