Shabbot-O-Gram: 8/1/25

Dear Camp Kingswood Families,

When I was a camper, I used to lay in bed in my cabin, reading the names of the campers graffiti’d on the walls. I’d think about what the girls from 1932, or ‘67, or ‘85 would have been doing, and I’d fall asleep with the comfort of knowing I was a part of a legacy that mattered.

What is it about writing your name on a wall that speaks so loudly to kids at camp? Why is it that my best friend would show up each summer with a giant pencil case full of Sharpies, with the sole purpose of putting her name and years at camp in as many places as possible?

At its core, graffiti is about leaving a mark. It’s a way of saying I was here. It’s a declaration that you were a part of something that mattered. It’s a hope that someone in a future summer will be lying in bed reading your name, and you will be known. We want to be a part of the story.

Because deep down, we all want to matter.

We want to be seen, remembered, and known—not just as a name on a wall, but as someone whose presence meant something. Your reputation is how you’re seen, built on your actions and behaviors. Your legacy is how you’ll be remembered after you’re gone. At camp we talk about how every day is an opportunity to shape both.  

While some marks are physical, carved into a bench or scribbled under the Arts & Crafts table, the more lasting marks aren’t written with Sharpie. They’re written through how we show up. By how we treat others. By how we make others feel. By how we translate our own experience to help shape those of the campers who follow us. 

I saw it in action yesterday in a moment that nearly made me cry.

Rebecca, a junior counselor, has always lived for the Gym & Dance Show. Since her early camper days, it’s been her thing. At least one solo always, and of course a few group numbers. This summer, we joked about her being in the show, but she knew it wasn’t her turn on stage. Instead of stepping back, she stepped up. She spent the week helping her campers learn their dances, cheering them on, and passing down her love for dancing in front of camp. She spent the day in the New Rec living her best Dance Mom life helping her campers prepare, and when her Olim camper walked on stage for her solo, Rebecca was on her feet shouting, “That’s my camper!” with the kind of pride that tells you everything you need to know. Passing along something she loves, in the most authentic way. I know her campers will remember her love and support, and one day they will be cheering on their own campers, channeling their inner Rebecca. 

One more story, because this topic has been on my mind all week. A few days ago I was having a conversation with a Chalutzim camper about something she was wrestling with. She was trying to make sense of that tension between wanting to live boldly, without worrying what people think, and still caring deeply about how she’s seen. The truth is, it does matter. Especially in high school. Our reputations follow us. They shape how others treat us, and how we feel about ourselves.

We talked about that quiet, anxious feeling—What if people are talking about me behind my back? What if I’m being judged?

I asked her gently, How do you want to be remembered at camp?

Do you want to be known as the one who’s always in the know of gossip? If so, that often comes with the reputation of not being trustworthy. Are you the one who’s always walking up to flag at 8:05? Odds are you’ll earn the reputation of always being late, even if it’s just sometimes. If you blow off the handle whenever you get out at 9-square, other kids may not want to play with you. 

If you want to be seen as someone kind, or someone who makes others feel seen, or someone who lifts people up, then what are the actions we’re taking to live like that? Not in the big, dramatic moments, but in the small ones that we think no one notices. 

Because the truth is, people notice.

Our reputation isn’t something we declare. It’s something we earn, quietly, over time, by showing up consistently as the kind of person we hope people will remember.

The gift of camp is that every summer, we get to show up as the next version of ourselves. Every camper here has grown since last summer. You can feel it in the bunk, at the table, in the way they walk through camp with just a little more confidence. Everyone’s choosing what kind of mark they want to leave behind—and the best part is, the Sharpie isn’t what matters.

Shabbat Shalom from Bridgton. May this week be one where we remember that we are always writing our story, and that the next chapter is already being read by someone younger who’s watching.

With love,
Jodi

P.S. I’m thrilled to share that registration for Summer 2026 opens this Monday! As a giant thank you to our current families, we’re holding our 2026 tuition at 2025 rates. You’re the heart of this place, and your trust means everything to us. 

We’ve also extended each session by a full day (yes, more camp!) and our two-week program is now a full 14 days each session. Why? We’ve seen time and again how the real magic happens just after the comfort sets in, and we want more of that!

Thank you for being part of the Kingswood story. Let the next chapter begin. 💙