Deb Aronson

A Place To Belong

First appeared in Illinois Alumni magazine in May 2002 under Profiles

Once upon a time, Lynn Schreiber Price ‘77 COM was like every other kid in her Skokie, Ill., neighborhood. She attended Miss Kurzweg’s second-grade class at Middleton Elementary. She had two best friends, Barb and Darleen. Price’s mother, Jackie, was a homemaker. Price’s father, Alex, worked as a glazier, and his handiwork — art glass pieces and fancy mirrors — decorated their otherwise simple home.

One day that comfortable world shifted radically.

“Dad [is] never home early,” Price recalled thinking when she found both of her parents present when she came home from school. “My first thought was something was wrong with my parents.”

Price’s parents sat her down and explained that she was not, in fact, their biological daughter but a foster child who had lived with them since just a few months after her birth. Now Price’s biological mother was asking to see her. Oh, and by the way, the 8-year-old Price had an older sister, Andi, who lived in another foster home across town.

In that instant, Price went from fitting in to being different.

“I remember walking across the living room and sitting in a different chair, separate from them, and not wanting to hear what they were telling me,” she said.

As a grown woman, Price has worked the last eight years to quell the shocks and smooth the wrinkles that may spring from foster childhood. Camp To Belong, a Price creation, offers a place for separated foster siblings to reunite, create some shared memories and bolster the youths’ belief that they can make it in the world.

Almost 600,000 children are in foster care in the United States, and the number grows annually. Some are there because of abuse, others because parents are unable to adequately care for their child. Price’s mother, for example, had had a nervous breakdown when Price was a few months old; her father had abandoned the family. When Price was 8, her biological mother sought contact after recovering from her illness. Ultimately, Price lived the rest of her childhood with either her mother or the Schreibers — Price’s mother was never quite well enough to regain custody, but she refused to grant permission for Price to be adopted.

According to foster care experts, approximately 75 percent of siblings in foster care are separated from one another. The sibling bond — key in any family — provides a shared sense of family, belonging and identity. While foster children, for various reasons, may not be allowed to have contact with their parents, the children may be able to gain that sense of belonging by spending time with their siblings.

“Kids in foster care [may have] no parents … [and] often they haven’t got uncles, aunts or grandparents, but they will have their siblings for the rest of their lives,” said Cynthia Sweet, a social worker at Catholic Social Service in Champaign. “It can be an important relationship if they can maintain the ties.”

Price eventually came to both deeply love her sister, Andi Andree, and to recognize the importance of siblings to one another (“They are your longest relationship in life,” Price often says). She founded her weeklong camp in part to make sure other children in foster care will grow up knowing their siblings in a way she and her sister never did.

“I made up my mind early on to take control of my destiny,” Price said of being a foster child. “No one could stereotype me as a failure.” National statistics were not in her favor — foster children are more likely than the general population to drop out of high school, suffer low self-esteem and lack of direction and end up suffering the same instability and dependence on public assistance that their parents did.

At her camp, Price often uses herself (a telecommunications executive for 20 years) and her sister (a special education teacher) as examples: “If we can do it [go to college, raise a family, have a career], so can you,” Price tells the campers. “Live your dreams.”

But the 8-year-old Price was not ready to be an example to others. Instead she purposely kept her status a secret. She didn’t tell her closest friends and barely acknowledged her sister’s existence.

The first meeting between Price and Andree as children did not go well. The girls couldn’t have been more different on the outside. Price had straight hair, wore designer clothes and lived a comfortable, middle-class life. Andree had curly hair, wore overalls and T-shirts and lived in a working-class neighborhood of Chicago.

“I remember meeting in this cold, stark office. Everything was gray and laminated,” Price said. “I was there with my foster mother, my biological mother, the social worker and Andi. I was so aware of my foster mother, whom I considered my real mother, being there and not wanting to hurt her by calling this other woman ‘Mommy.’”

Andree, like Price, had lived with a single family her entire life but had always known she was in foster care. She had not been aware, however, that she had a sister.

Andree also remembers that first meeting. “I don’t usually have a vivid memory, but I can picture first meeting Lynn — she was a little thing — with her long, straight hair and bangs, looking out from behind the caseworker saying, ‘You’re not my sister, you’re not my sister.’ I knew from that first meeting that I wanted to get to know her, but she didn’t want to get to know me at first.”

But years later as an adult, a more positive Price returned to the world of foster care as a court-appointed special advocate to help foster children. Because she had gone through the system and spoke openly about her experiences, Price gained instant credibility with both the children and the social workers. “I originally volunteered because I thought I could learn,” she said. “I didn’t realize that I also could teach.”

Price recognized two things: one, that children in foster care deserve to have as normal a childhood as possible; and two, that children crave being with their siblings, even if bickering and anger hover on the surface.

“Think back to how you grew up,” explained Henry Over, msw ‘89, of the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services. “But now, picture your siblings separated, sometimes by 25 miles, and the only time you get to see your siblings is when your mom and dad visit. If they don’t visit, what then? It’s always important to promote healthy relationships, including that sibling bond.”

“I believe kids deserve their sibling relationship,” Price said. “You will get out of foster care, and you will be looking for that relationship one way or another.”

A camp seemed like a perfect setting to address both issues. “Any kid can remember a camp experience growing up, even if it’s day camp or art camp,” she said. “A weeklong camp means the children get a good amount of quality time together.”

Within three months of her first idea, Camp To Belong (CTB) became a reality. In July 1995, the first session of CTB was held at the University of Las Vegas, close to where Price lived at the time. Instead of tents, the 32 “campers” slept in dorm rooms; instead of mountains and forests, the environment offered elevators and cement. Despite the unorthodox setting, the camp was wildly successful and was repeated the next year. The third year, the camp moved to the Rocky Mountains, where more conventional camp activities, such as horseback riding, canoeing and rafting, could take place. Since then, some regional camps, in addition to the Rocky Mountains one, have also been organized.

CTB hosts about 100 children every year — a small fraction of children in care but a transformative experience for most of the participants. One year, during the opening night campfire, a teen-age girl sat on the outskirts of the group saying, “This is stupid, this is stupid.” Then Price got up and spoke. “I grew up in foster care,” she said, “and here’s my sister. I didn’t live with her when I was growing up, but now we’re best friends.” The teen-ager sat straight up, said, “That’s cool,” and changed her entire attitude.

“I believe we’re here to help each other, to make a difference in the world,” said Andree, vice president of CTB. “As soon as we are done with camp I know I’ve made a difference … . We have given them memories; you can’t ever take those away.”

As young adults, Price and Andree’s relationship was transformed in a single weekend. When Andree was in college she invited Price, who was still in high school, for a visit. Price was terrified, but she went.

When Price got to the campus, Andree asked her, “Can I introduce you as my little sister?” When Price agreed, Andree remembers, “That just felt great.”

“That visit changed our relationship,” Price said. “We were together for the first time by ourselves with no adults. It was our first opportunity to be with each other on our own terms. We realized that there was lots to like about each other.”

The next year, Price became a student at the University of Illinois, where she spent “the best years of my life,” she said. “I was in a sorority. I enjoyed my teachers, worked at a radio station and on a magazine and bartended at Kam’s. I was on my own, outside the scrutiny of the system for the first time.”

That constant scrutiny can be burdensome to foster children. CTB offers an oasis where the status of separated siblings becomes a non-issue.

“At camp we’re all in the same boat; it’s like a different world,” said Amber, 14, a CTB camper. “I’m the only foster kid I know at school. I don’t make a big deal about it, and I’m not ashamed, it’s just that it takes explaining. My friends don’t really get it. My brothers and I go a long time without seeing each other. At camp we’re free to do anything. Camp To Belong is like a second home. I can breathe deep and relax. Lynn makes me feel warm and safe. You know that no matter what you tell her, she’ll like you.”

Amber lives in Wisconsin with her sister, Heidi, who is 15, and her foster mother, Jen Bronsdon. The girls were separated from their older brothers, Dustin and Chris, five years ago, when their mom was no longer able to take care of them.

Bronsdon, who is both a foster parent and a social worker, first heard about CTB in a magazine article. “Reading about these siblings being together just brought tears to my eyes,” she said. Soon after that, she inquired about applying.

All four children were able to attend the Illinois camp that ran in 1998. “I know the kids were excited beforehand,” said Bronsdon, “but immediately after the first session was when I first realized what a neat thing it was for them to be all together. I’ll always remember that because they were so excited and bubbly when I came to pick them up.”

The four siblings have participated in three camp sessions, including two in the Rockies. Amber, Heidi and Dustin took part in a fourth that Chris couldn’t attend.

But even in the well-run setting of CTB, siblings don’t get along all the time. And Price recognizes this, embracing the sibling bond in all its complexity.

“If they’re angry, we let them be angry,” she said. “A good day is when everyone is saying what they want to say.”

Based on her own experiences, Price knows to look beyond the fighting. For example, one year a pair of sisters quarreled the entire camp session. Price learned afterward that one sister told the other that their brother had been adopted, and they wouldn’t be able to see him any more. (Once a child is adopted, legal rights to sibling visits are lost.) The sisters fought because one didn’t believe or didn’t want to believe the other one’s information.

Beyond the shared week at camp, CTB finds other ways to maintain sibling ties. Some of the camp crafts are designed to be given as gifts to family members. By far the most popular such project is making 6-inch-square pillows bearing a sibling’s message. One pillow reads: “Dear Dustin, You have always been able to make me laugh when I am sad, make me happy when I’m mad. You are my brother, friend, future and past, Love, Heidi.” Or “Dear Amber: When you get lonely you can call me anytime. I’m just a phone call away.”

Price, who only began drawing a salary for her camp work in 2001, is running CTB with the help of a part-time assistant and the support of her sister and other family members (including her husband, Chuck, and their three children: Addison, 15; Tanner, 13; and Jamie, 12). All the camp counselors are volunteers. The camp fee, which covers food and lodging, is defrayed by donations. This year Price also is running a camp in California and one in Maryland.

Even as CTB expands, Price dreams of the day when the need for CTB is gone. “My goal is to close the door on CTB because that will mean all siblings will be living together, or, if they’re not — because there are situations where they shouldn’t — that they can be in contact with one another, that it will be their choice,” she said.

Price has certainly faced her share of skeptics, both inside and outside the foster care system. Who could imagine she could get permission for foster children to cross state lines, much less take airplanes, to attend a camp? Who could imagine that siblings, who may have quarreled constantly in front of social workers, would get along for an entire week?

But Price’s vision has carried the day. Although struggling financially, CTB has received an enormous amount of recognition. Within just a few years of its founding, Price was honored by President Clinton as one of only 18 recipients of the President’s Service Award, the most prestigious presidential recognition given for volunteer community service. In 2000, she received the “Live Your Life” award from the “Oprah” television show, which came with a $50,000 prize and an appearance on the program. Price also recently received the L’Eggs Hosiery “Women Who Shape Our World” award, whose past recipients have included Marian Wright Edelman, hon ‘93, of the Children’s Defense Fund.

Despite their lack of shared childhood memories, Price and Andree’s bond has grown stronger over the years. It’s a bond that neither sister takes for granted.

“Lynn is in my heart; she’s a part of me,” said Andree. “We know each other’s deepest secrets.”

The sisters joked that CTB provides a means for them to spend a solid week together — they even get to share a bedroom, something they never did growing up. No doubt there is a lot of whispering in their cabin after “lights out.” They still have some catching up to do.