My wanderlust began at the tender age of two. My brother Jimmy, considerate sibling that he was, came down with pneumonia. Our doctor insisted he spend the winter months in a warm climate. Jim and I were never fans of cold weather, particularly those often brutal winters in Chicago.
The opportunity to spend winter in a tropical climate was the best holiday gift I could have received. I don’t know if we ever made the connection, but of the four siblings in our family, the two, who as toddlers spent one balmy winter in Cuba, are the ones who for over fifteen years have lived in the warm climates of Las Vegas and Houston.
Here's an old photo my mom had of Jimmy and me enjoying Varadero Beach. I'm the healthy looking one.
My parent’s friends were rather shocked at their choice of Cuba as a Caribbean getaway… even pre-Castro. However, at the time Miami was very expensive. So, my mom found a cottage in Varadero, a resort town in Cuba’s province of Matanzas. At the time, it was one of the largest resort areas in the Caribbean. My parents were fortunate that the cottage was large enough to accommodate a nanny. We were not so thrilled, since the only English she spoke was “No cookies, no candy.”
MY VERY FIRST GIRLFRIENDS GETAWAY - by Elena
I left home for the first time without my parents the summer of my ninth birthday. It was going to be a two month stay at Camp Birch Knoll in Phelps, Wisconsin. My neighbor Donna and I joined forces to attend. I’ll never forget waiting for the train at the station in Wilmette, Ilinois with my fellow girl campers. Some of us had tears in our eyes as we clung to our parents. Others hid their tears, trying as hard as they could to show they were strong. Then there were the "cool girls," acting as if they didn't even know their parents. They looked instead for their friends. The look in their eyes said not only that they didn’t want their parents to worry about them, but also that they were mature enough to take care of themselves. Who were they kidding?
Those of us girls who had never been away from home without our parents were terrified. The rest just wanted their parents to think they weren’t.
Donna and I started camp that first year knowing only each other. Yet it didn’t take long before we developed friendships with the other eight girls in Cabin Two…a.k.a. "Beaver’s Nest." Camp was a place where we could learn how to swim, synchronize swim,
horsebackride, water ski, and even take a few trips a summer to popular tourist sites not far from Camp Birch Knoll. One summer, we traveled to Mackinaw Island, Michigan….no one makes fudge like they do. At the end of the summer, we put on a broadway type show. This gave us the chance to try our chops singing or seeing whether we had two left feet while trying to dance.
For those of you who don’t think you could survive eight weeks without boys, you always have the option of reducing the number of weeks you spend at camp. For those of you who see the benefits of spending eight weeks at a girls-only camp, fear not. We had two socials a year with boys' camps. 
Furthermore, I can’t think of any of my camp friends who would have given up the opportunity to learn all of the above mentioned activities without worrying about boys making fun of us.I’ll never forget some of the pranks we pulled. There was the time we rounded up all of the bras in each cabin, tied them end-to-end, and hoisted them up the camp flagpole. And then there was the shoe heist. Early one morning we rounded up all the shoes we could find and lined them up in straight rows spelling out “Camp Birch Knoll.”
Sure we took a “lickin,” but it sure was worth it. We were given what we considered the worst punishment possible. Once the culprits were found, we (I’m not saying that I was amongst them, though I’m not saying I wasn’t either) had to go to the Camp Director’s office. Just one snarly look from “Pops” was enough to render us nine year olds scared to death. Apologies were given and accepted. None of us wanted to find ourselves there again. (even though some of us hadn’t gotten the prankster out of our systems, yet.)
I encourage all young women to spend some time, whether it’s locally or away from home, developing that special bond. While it may not necessarily be unique to women, there is often in our DNA a particularly exceptional closeness that binds us together from the time we’re kids through adulthood.
Donna and I went on to spend five more summers in that same cabin. Those are memories I wouldn't trade the world for.
p.s. I welcome input from any of you girls/now women, in our cabin… Ann Dee, Barb, Linda, Margo. Are any of you out there? What are your memories?
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