My first summer at Kinderland was in 1956.  I was almost 10 years old, and I had already been schooled by a current camper that I needed a nick name.  Philip became “Flip” and the name stuck.  My parents shielded me from the worst of those times but even so, I knew that the spectre of McCarthyism haunted the country when family members lost jobs and careers, although we would rarely speak of it.  Black folks were also under siege: Emmett Till had been murdered the previous year and a picture of his mutilated body appeared on the cover of Jet magazine. I had never seen anything like that before.

I was homesick my first day at camp; Laiche Gellman, our group leader, came into our bunk that night and sang to us and told us stories.  It was the last time I felt homesick that summer. 

In the following four weeks, I discovered people like me--- lots of them.  I didn’t know it at the time, but I had already developed a worldview; a worldview that was shared by staff and campers at Kinderland.  My folks were union organizers; I heard union songs.  My folks worked for racial justice and human rights; I heard names like Paul Robeson, Harriet Tubman, and Mahatma Ghandi.  My mom spoke Yiddish; we sang Yiddish songs.  I felt at home.

My deepest affinity for Kinderland came years later as an adult and the voices of progressive change grew louder and more insistent in our nation.  It was then that I came to deeply love and appreciate what Kinderland represented for me: A safe place to be me.  I was Black, I was Jewish, and I was Queer.  Although the Queer Flip never emerged as a reality in those days, (I acknowledged that when I was 18 years old), there was always a place for me here.  My nascent same-gender-loving nature expressed itself in a long-standing bromance with a fellow camper.  No one at camp batted an eye.

Kinderland is a state of mind that I’ve tried to carry with me everywhere: A place where there is no violence; where there are no oppressive ideologies; where there are no “outsiders,” where stated values translate into deeds, where art of “people making” has free reign.

For eight summers of my childhood, Kinderland provided relief from the hot city and the cares of the world while supporting me in becoming a better citizen of the world.  My parents, Albert and Dora, sacrificed financially each summer so that I could attend.  One summer, they borrowed money so that I could go; another summer, they couldn’t afford to send me.

I’m forever grateful to my folks for those eight summers.  In return and in their memory, I would like to make the Kinderland experience available to other kids like me.

I hope you’ll give generously to my Scholarship Fund and thank you.

Flip

“One grateful camper making a way for another.”