Weepanomics Camp

Carmela Soprano: “Now go upstairs and do your math.”

Anthony Junior: “Algebra? That's the most boring.”

Tony Soprano: “Well, your other choice is sufferin.' You wanna start now?”

- The Sopranos

            Vito bumped me so he could be the first in the car as Brian, Christina, and I set forth on a journey to Economics Camp. Yes, you read that correctly. Economics Camp. Economics Camp is located in a Godforsaken land two hours south and west of Oakland County.

            Christina had given up a week of summer vacation to spend at Econ Camp, where perhaps right now she sits enraptured in the “Scarcity and Choice” class or the “Foreign Currencies/Foreign Exchange” seminar.

            All I have to say is that the teacher-of-the-year award should go to Kathryn Gustafson of Farmington High School. Who else but Mrs. Gustafson could get 17-year-old social butterfly Christina to take a week away from her gaggle of friends to discover the wonders of “Cartels and Competition?”

            Anyway, for some reason beyond what I can comprehend – I think someone told there’d be cute guys -- Christina had been looking forward to this for a long time. And I was anxious too, but for a different reason. With her at camp, and Nick and Beth living in Ann Arbor, it was going to be the first time that for a whole week Brian and I would be the sole Lord and Lady of the manor.

            I dreamed about what that would be like. We could do whatever we wanted without worrying about being role models. We could blast Billy Joel over the speakers, eat junk for dinner, and watch “Hung” on HBO -- you know, the dangerous stuff.

            The ride to camp was cheery, and Vito had a perpetual smile on his face. Christina thought it was because he was happy to see all the farm animals we passed, but I think he was relieved because it wasn’t he that had to go to Econ Camp.

            The college that housed Econ Camp was a stately place, very proper and serious. We left Vito in the car, got Christina set up in her dorm room, and then there was nothing left but to say goodbye.

            She walked us out the car, where I whispered in her ear that she could still break out while she had the chance. We gave each other kisses and hugs, and it was a nice moment.

            Brian and I drove off, and we weren’t on the road for one block when something primal, deep, and sad overtook me. I began to blubber like Lindsay Lohan running low on diet pills. Christina hadn’t been out of my sight for one minute, and I missed her like I’d been without her for four hundred years.

            So much water squirted out of my eyes that Brian had to pull over and wipe off the windshield, from the inside.

            “I don’t know why I’m crying,” I used an old napkin to blow my nose. “Probably the thought of Econ Camp is boring me to tears.”

            Brian patted me on the leg, “I think you’re crying because you realize your baby is almost all grown up.”

            “Yes,” I blurted out, “I think you’re right,” and a new set of tears exploded.

            From behind my shoulder I felt a wet tongue on my cheek. Vito! I had totally forgotten about him during my crying jag, he had been so quite in the back. He licked my chin, nose, forehead, and even my eyeglasses. He was so enthusiastic, his gesture so earnest, that now I laughed. My sad mood had passed on.

            I don’t know if it was because of Vito, or because with each passing mile we got farther away from the study of Economics, but once again I felt fine.