Why do I agree every year to be the Head Men’s Counselor for Camp Zenith? Why would any person in their right mind want to supervise over 250 high school age boys, and 22 college age counselors? I know one thing for certain. Sanity has nothing to do with it.

Around 2:00 this morning I received my annual call. The annual call is generally worded something like this: “You have ____ number of campers out of their dorm rooms.” “They are ________ . ” The last part of the sentence has a little variation. “They are running toward the girls’ dorm.” “They are streaking through the boys’ dorm area.” Last night’s call was: “They are swimming in the fountain in their boxer shorts.” What a pleasant thought…. Some poor university donor no doubt contributed a lot of money to build a large decorative fountain in front of the campus. The money was probably given in the name of a faithful saint from the past. These boys had the nerve to defile this adornment to the campus by swimming in the fountain in their boxers. How nice…

The youthful offenders were racing back to the dorm when I intercepted them. I called for them to stop, but my commands went unheeded. I could not believe that authortity was being defied. The chase was on. They were shocked. How could that old man keep up with them? I barreled down on them up the stairs, and we nearly collided in front of their dorm room. After a brief, but fruitful investigation, I determined that there were additional offenders at large. We finally found them about 3:30 this morning hiding out in another camper’s dorm room.

This afternoon I served as prosecutor, judge, and prison guard. I had my 6 first time offenders pick up trash in the dorm rooms as punishment. We all relived last night’s activities. Laughter replaced the more serious tone from the wee hours of the morning. They asked me: “Did you ever do this kind of stuff at camp?” “Of course not,” I quickly said. They were not buying it. I told them about toga football games in hotel parking lots at school functions. At that point, it was obvious that we were bonding. I also told them that I did not grow up going to church camp. “I did not grow up in church,” I told them. They actually looked thoughtful for a moment…

I think I realized at that point why I come back every year. I want those kids to have the opportunity that I missed. Church camp is a place to build memories that will last a lifetime. And, if the truth be known, I have yet grow up. No wonder I bonded so quickly with the youthful offenders. We are all in good company with one another. I think I will commit to coming back next year, but sanity has nothing to do with such a decision!