A half-hour into her first summer at camp, 7-year-old Destiny Cooper had lost her luggage but found her big sister.
The little girls were beginning a week at Camp Connect, which reunites siblings who live in separate foster homes. While counselors searched for the suitcase, Desiree Cooper, at 9 a more seasoned camper, eased her sister's jitters and showed her their bunks.
"This is your bed," she said. "I will make it for you."
Desiree and Destiny are among the 60 children participating this week in the camp run by the Baltimore County Department of Social Services. Youths come from across the metropolitan area each summer to catch up at campgrounds in New Freedom, Pa. For many, the gathering, now in its 10th year, is the only family reunion they get to experience.
Desiree, Destiny and three siblings who were also at the camp, live apart; the two girls could not recall when they last had a chance to play together.
"This is not a forced visit, where these kids can talk to each other for a few hours," said Judith Schagrin, camp director and an assistant director for children's services at DSS. "Here the children go through the day doing things together. … They are bonding here and building memories for a lifetime. Who doesn't remember the fun vacations of childhood?"
According to national statistics from the Child Welfare League of America, as many as 75 percent of children in foster care live apart from their siblings. Many do not see each other regularly, Schagrin said. Social workers often organize visits, but those usually occur within a limited time frame and in a more structured environment.
Camp offers an informal atmosphere, she said.
The campers arrived Tuesday on an air-conditioned coach bus, a trip Schagrin said is itself a rare treat. A throng of 30 volunteer counselors greeted the campers at the entrance to the 45-acre campground near Interstate 83, then organized the children into smaller groups that kept siblings together.
Ashley Angel, 14, came from Hagerstown to spend time with her 17-year-old brother, who lives in Baltimore.
"The really cool thing here is that everybody is in the same boat," she said. "Everybody understands what our life is like."
Christian Chisolm, 16, gushed over her 9- and 11-year-old brothers.
"I love everything about camp, but most of all spending time with my two little brothers," she said, and chided the boys about their shaggy haircuts. "They have gotten so tall!"
Some campers, like 18-year-old Billy Atkinson, have come to Camp Connect every year since it started.
Atkinson said the camp is an annual ritual for him and his twin sister Keyona, who have lived apart in foster care for 11 years. He plans to return next year as a volunteer.
"My sister and I never saw much of each other, until we came to camp," Atkinson said. "Here we are family and we have come to know other kids as family."
Schagrin remembers his first visit fondly.
"He was just a little boy, a foot shorter than his twin sister, and all over the place," she said. "It has been such a joy to watch him grow into a caring, competent young man."
His sister's part-time job conflicted with the camp this year, but counselors volunteered to drive her back and forth from Randallstown to New Freedom so she could participate in most events. The twins will be seniors at different county high schools this fall and are planning on college, Atkinson said. His most recent foster parent is one of his teachers.
In a decade of camps, Schagrin has seen numerous bumps, sprains and stitches. She has spent a few nights keeping watch at a nearby hospital's emergency room, but she has never encountered a homesick camper.
"Many of these children have no real home to miss," she said. "But they have siblings, and for many of them that will be the longest relationship of their lives."
Campers fell into easy conversations about plans for the week, excited that go-carts are back on the schedule. Many were eager for a trip to Hershey Park and anxious about the new center where they'll try horseback riding.
To meet a 2-to-1 ratio of campers to counselors, Schagrin cajoles co-workers into volunteering. At 68, the oldest volunteer, Jim McComb, called the summer week "the best work of my life."
Volunteers forgo the comforts of home and stay with the campers in cottages that lack amenities like air conditioning and private bathrooms.
"I loved camp when I was a kid, and this is like reliving it for me," said Sarah Jonczak, a caseworker volunteering for the week. "Here you are not a social worker. You step out of your hat and make sure these kids can be kids."
Sheila Kalatzis, also a social worker and counselor, grew up in foster care herself — separated from her four siblings.
"I like being a kid with them. I wish this had been around when I was a kid," Kalatzis said. "The only gathering I can remember is when one social worker took the five of us to the Towson mall."
At the pool, Joseph Betts, 18, tried to coax his 15-year-old sister into the water, but bowed to her protests against dampening her carefully coiffed hair. The two, who had not seen each other for three months, sat in the shade and talked instead.
"I have never been to a camp and wanted to see what it was like," he said. "Mostly, I wanted to connect with my sister. We have a lot of catching up to do."
By the time campers gather around a bonfire Saturday night for a farewell barbecue, Schagrin said she felt sure the campers would renew family ties. She doled out disposable cameras and encouraged lots of picture-taking. Every Christmas, she sends each camper a framed family photo along with a holiday card featuring a traditional group shot.
The children will board the same motor coach Sunday for the drive back to Baltimore.
"It's all fun," Atkinson said. "Nobody cries here until they have to leave. They stop crying when I tell them they will be back next year."