As the temperature climbs and the air gets thick every summer, I can’t help but think of camp. I’m something of a year-round evangelist for summer camp, although I haven’t attended one in over fifteen years.

Camp was where I discovered who I was out from under the watchful eye of parents and classmates. It was where I got my first real taste of independence, where I made friends easily and learned that other kids thought I was funny. Although my parents could only afford to send me for one week each summer, that one week consumed my thoughts for the entire year.

Summer camp is a temple for all the joys and dramas of childhood and adolescence. Emotions always run high (for better and for worse), and every experience is heightened. I distinctly remember the first summer I went when I was eleven years old, thinking that this is what it must feel like to be alive.