A. Brandt
Mrs. Benedict
Honors Junior English
September 4, 2007
Turn Out the Light
As easy as I thought writing this paper would be, it is proving to be as emotionally demanding as the event that is about to be encompassed in these next paragraphs. It is an annual ceremony, which comes to life each summer and has laid the foundation of the standards I live by today. Now, I know many of you are going to be writing about incredible journeys and exotic places, but the story I am about to tell is of the inspiration brought to me from a camp not three hours away from home. Nestled deep in the somber woods of northern Arizona resides a camp with more meaning to me than the whole world itself. I call it heaven, but most call it Camp Grace.
Camp Grace is a soccer camp unlike any I have attended. Away from home, and any type of civilization, all you possess is yourself, a hand-full of personal necessities and 50 or so campers all striving to achieve the same goal: to have as much fun as humanly possible in the short space of seven days. And we always did. Whether it was making kitchen raids at two in the morning or covering ourselves head to toe in camouflage paint and running rampant through the forest wielding water balloons in pursuit of terrified counselors, we never failed to have a good time. Looking back on it, some of the stuff we did seemed pretty dangerous, for instance, it never really occurred that seeing who could keep their finger on the rattlesnake longest was a possible life-threatening activity. Then we found out that the Camp Director, Scott had already killed and beheaded the snake! But hey, we were kids, what did we care? It was bliss; there can be no other way to describe it.
I have been attending camp since I was a wee little tyke of eight years old. It was my first time venturing out of mommy and daddy’s protective arms and seeing life through my own eyes, instead of through those who had always told me how to view life. Camp was an opportunity to get away from the corrupted city life, and into a world of friends, learning and love. My parents left me feeling quite terrified at the idea of going an entire week without seeing them; but at the end of the week, Scott and the camp had worked magic on me and I was brought to tears at the thought of leaving. It is something that cannot be explained in words. I am sure there are many soccer camps across the world, but not one of them touches lives like Camp Grace. I was eight years old and it birthed in me ideals that I still carry today.
I am now 16, and am a Counselor in Training at camp. I have been going to camp for eight years, and to this day, I do not believe there is a more life touching changing place in the world. The place touches hearts, I do not know how, but I have seen it work its miracles on the most hardheaded kids. Kids show up the first day and don’t want to talk to anyone; pouting because they are missing parties and other events back in the city. By the end they are singing, dancing and being what they are truly at heart. A Kid. It is a place where you don’t have to worry about your reputation; a place where you don’t care who is watching. No one cares if you are cool or not, up there you are one word: family. The bonds kids build with the other campers, Scott and the rest of the staff are unbreakable. You grow as a person, and learn to accept people for who they are and not what they look like or how they dress and who they hang out with because you all look the same when you turn out the light.
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