The image to the left is the nametag I wore in summer camp when I was twelve years old. The camp at the Warren Willis Youth Camp in Leesburg began every morning with toast, peanut butter, and apple butter. The day was filled with activities—arts and crafts, discussion groups, plenty of recreation time—swimming, boating, and a perennial favorite—tetherball. In the evening we gathered for songfests and inspirational messages. The experience was useful also because being away from my parents for a week came with an implicit message that I was growing towards independence. My parents saw this as an opportunity for me, and were always glad that I could participate. Now I understand that they probably delighted in getting a little break from the kids. Of course, the idea that they might desire such a thing was inconceivable to me at the time.
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