So, we’re sitting around a campfire eating smores when a shirtless man with massive muscles stomps into camp carrying an axe. “Who stole my freakin’ wood? Who?” I look around for the adult who’ll handle the situation… I realize… it’s me. I walk up to him, put my hand on his sweaty back, and ask for a private word…

“Don’t touch me or I’ll split you in two!”

“Sorry. This is a program for … “troubled teens.” One of ‘em… made a mistake.”

“Now you’re making me feel bad!”

“It’s okay… This is how we learn.”

… I was slogging my way through the University of Michigan…  trying to figure out what animates me…Well, I land this gig, vanning around the Eastern states with 15 boys and 7 staff: caving, rock-climbing, rafting, I can’t believe they’re going to pay me to do this. But… what are they thinking hiring this 21-year old to lead the trip?

… One of the campers, Jimmy Jack seems to be hiding beneath his long, red hair. Miles points to him and shouts: “It was him!  He stole the wood!” But everyone knows it was Miles, the fleshy-faced 8^th grader who smells like rotting meat… and can belch in complete sentences!

With a little prompting (and a threatening look)… Miles returns the wood and apologizes.

But Jimmy Jack, fuming from the false accusation, attacks Miles with wild roundhouse punches. It takes three of us to restrain him… Part of me wants to let him go so Miles can get some natural consequences. But as the director of the program, I can’t really do that… Basted in sweat, breaded in dirt, tangled in red hair, I wonder what the hell I’m doing, pinning another human to the ground …

The saga continues: After whooshing through the whitewater of the Shenandoah River, the boys are showering at a public campground. Sawyer, this non-verbal beanpole of a kid, heads in after Miles… and runs out, retching… Someone had smeared feces on the wall… We had a painter in our midst. And I got a gag reflex!

I pull Miles aside and ask, “Why’d you do it?”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Come on! You gotta take responsibility so we can get past this thing… Miles?”

“FRED!” 

Ok, so I get creative with Miles … I lie…

“We’re going to just have to collect a sample of the poop and compare it to the DNA of all the campers; when we find a match, we’re gonna charge that person… thousands of dollars.”

Miles looks up at the heavens… “Member you said we should make good things happen for others? Well even though I didn’t do it, I’m going to clean it up …” I don’t have the strength to do any processing with him; I’m stuck on the fact that we both lie… to get what we need…

Next, we arrive at Cape Hatteras; it’s a humid 90-degrees and the boys are begging for a swim in the Atlantic. “Be careful out there,” I warn as they leap into the surf. Miles starts windmilling through the waves, but then… he gets sucked out into the ocean; he’s getting smaller and smaller. I freak out and splash into the water… while Miles swims parallel to the shore and breaks free of the rip tide…

Back on the warm sand, he smells like the ocean. He looks at me and says, “That was awesome!” I can’t help but give him a hug… And thank him for not drowning. Miles just saved all of us… from what could have been the most horrific moment of our lives. But, this was my fault. I failed to set appropriate limits. From that point forward, kids were only allowed in up to their knees… I was so ready to head home… Like Miles, I’d plunged into a body of water, without knowing the conditions…

… Well, all 22 of us survived the four weeks …  The young men swagger out of the van and into the welcoming arms of their families. And, when the last car crunches down the gravel driveway. See Ya! I’m left wondering: do I need to feed off the drama and trauma of others to animate myself? Did I make any kind of a difference with Miles or the other campers?

… Fast forward a few months and I receive a letter from Miles’ mom: I’m afraid to open it. She writes: “What did you do… to transform my son? Miles is showering more often, sometimes doing dishes without being asked… He’s still a pain in the ass, but he’s changing!” …

… Now I’m not gonna claim it was Miles who inspired me to get my teaching credential and serve for three decades in public education. But back in the day, Miles and I were both discovering the rapture of being alive… when you do awesome stuff… and make good things happen for others.