Letters to the Editor (From the Editor's Mom)

One of the best parts of attending summer camp as a kid was receiving mail from back home.

Sitting at the breakfast table in the camp dining room, I watched with anticipation each morning as the counselor went to collect the mail for our cabin. Of course it was never the cool thing to act excited if the counselor happened to toss me a piece of mail from home. But boy, I couldn't rip into the envelope fast enough when I was alone.

I'd savor the list of questions from Mom, the simple, one-sentence re-assurances from Dad, and the sincere teasing from my brother.

But receiving mail from back home didn't stop there.

It was a tradition in my family that--whenever someone left on a trip--those of us left behind would sneak mail into the traveler's luggage. We'd write little notes of love or appreciation and sneak them between the shirts or shorts or shoes.

And no matter how many times I traveled, it always caught me off guard the first time I'd lift an outfit and discover the envelope with my name on it waiting to be opened. Throughout the week, a half a dozen other notes would surely be uncovered.

(I always wondered if Mom didn't have a second motive for sending these notes when we were kids: to be sure we changed our clothes every single day.)

Tonight, on the verge of the trip of my lifetime, I revel in my family's consistency. Although Mom didn't go through my luggage this time (and hallelujah for that since my suitcase is looking more jumbled than I'd planned) she did hand me a bag of letters to be read on my trip--names and "to read" dates written clearly so I won't tear into them all at once.

I suppose, among other things, I can be thankful she knows I'll change my clothes.