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Camp Robin Hood congratulated itself on setting a superior example for young women by upholding a great many values my parents didn’t trust: rigid discipline, team spirit, Presbyterian church services on Sundays, grace before meals, and letter grades on everything from athletic prowess to bed-making. I have no idea why my mother chose it for me. Maybe the brochure featuring grainy-looking black-and-white photos of smiling campers on horseback or on stage reminded her of her own childhood camp in Vermont.

1990 was a big year. At the beginning of it, I caught Donnie Wahlberg’s sweaty shirt at a New Kids on the Block concert. At the end, I turned 16 and helped my parents negotiate their divorce. The middle brought the National Bridge Championship in Boston, where I fell in love with the city and fell in love with a boy for the first time. It’s also where I learned that my mom is a really big fish, however peculiar the pond.