If you attended summer camp as a kid, you probably think that your camp was the best. Did you go to KLC? If not, you’re simply wrong. It wasn’t its gorgeous setting that made the Camp, my camp, the best ever. Any words I can conjure up will not pay justice to the rolling hills and countryside, but its physical splendor pales in comparison to the wonderful folks who came together to form our community. Most of us were returnees. Not one or two summers, but year after year we kept coming back. Directors, counselors, kitchen help, custodians [anybody remember Bob Jennings?] and campers alike returned. Cold winters in New York and Philly were warmed by formal reunions. I was unable to attend the last reunion five years ago, but I hope not to miss the next one. Maybe we can come together and gather around the Totem Pole and once again cheer on the Green Team. Are Alan Sacks and Judy Race still Team Leaders? Is Dick Trout on the Waterfront. Marge, how’s he doing? Craig Pearson? Hoagie Bock? Davey Kristol? Johnny [H-a-double r-i-s-o-n spells] Harrison? Louie Naleboff is gone. Uncle A is gone. Chuck Smeren, too. Victor [Froggy] Gross died in Viet Nam. Andy Goodman, the Freedom Fighter, also died a hero’s death. Milt Blatt passed away a few years ago. Sue Berger also passed. And last week I read that my old bunkmate, Phil Karr, died. I’m deeply saddened. RIP Doberman.