With Parents Weekend just around the corner, I can't help but be reminded of parents visiting weekend at summer camp. That long-awaited weekend of above-average quality food, off-campus leave and of course, candy by the truckload seemed to be the be-all and end-all of the entire summer. Visiting day at camp meant the menu changed abruptly from peanut butter and jelly to nice salads and delicious barbecues. Everyone made their beds or folded their clothes a little bit more neatly and some of the usual suspects even brushed their teeth (maybe). However you prepared for it, visiting day was something special.
Parents drove up early in the morning, the most gung-ho ones arriving well in advance of the first morning activities, the stragglers coming in just moments before morning assembly. Starting at seven in the morning, a crowd of eager campers would gather at the upper baseball diamond -- an ersatz parking lot of sorts -- in rapt anticipation of the hood of their family automobile coming around the bend. Of course, my parents liked to cut things as close to the wire as humanly possible, and there was scarcely a visiting weekend when I wasn't up there on that hill for hours, my eagerness steadily driving me crazy. But alas, I digress.
When the 'rents finally arrived (literally seconds before assembly), I was greeted with hugs, kisses and, you guessed it: more candy than I could possibly hope to carry. In the early days, they might even have one of brothers in tow for the little brother sleepover. The day's events would progress like business as usual with campers being encouraged -- though usually somewhat unsuccessfully -- to attend all their activities as on any other day. Having raised me with a strong sense of responsibility and commitment (parent call), it was understood that I would be present at all of my activities come hell or high water -- even if I was the only camper who hadn't yet skipped town, likely for the environs of the nearby mall. Lunch involved some sort of elaborate barbecue intended to dazzle the taste buds, not to mention convince the parents that we were actually being fed. Come evening, I was granted a reprieve from the "delicious" camp food and my parents and I would go out to a nearby restaurant. Overall, the picture you should be getting is that visiting day was sweet.
Up here at Camp Dart-mouth, Parents Weekend has a similar effect. Although we no longer salivate at the thought of those big bags of candy, the summer atmosphere and the prospect of seeing our folks and possibly our siblings combines to create an equal form of anticipation. We straighten up our rooms, do our laundry, make our beds and hide the beer. Just kidding. But seriously -- no one dares confront the motherly wrath that is sure to ensue in the face of a cluttered or untidy room. Yes, we are dragged by our parents to an a cappella concert or a talk about off-campus experiences that we would really rather miss, but are rewarded in due time with a dinner at Murphy's, Jesse's or some other fine dining establishment. The respite from DDS is welcome indeed.
Even though Parents Weekend may mean canceling a game of pong you had planned for a while, it's well worth it. Hey, you might be lucky and your dad could be in the mood for a Saturday afternoon game -- you never know. Parents Weekend affords us a rare break from the week-in, week-out rhythm that we settle into up here. If nothing else, the weekend offers us as all a nice chance to marvel at the folks who begat our weirder friends. That really never gets old. In any event, get psyched; at the very least, you'll definitely get a nice dinner out of all of this parental brouhaha.
As you have probably all figured out by now, I'm psyched for the weekend -- impending a cappella concerts notwithstanding. I will be waiting on whatever Dartmouth's equivalent of the upper baseball field is -- the Hanover Inn entrance, possibly -- eagerly awaiting the arrival of the familiar silhouette of our minivan with my parents and, hopefully, lots and lots of candy inside.
