There are moments during an Okee’s final summer when you can almost see the transition out of camp taking place.
For years, these boys have looked up to generations of Okees. They watched them lead our community in singing the alma mater in the MJG Playhouse, they watched them captain teams, head up their camp families, and compete in the final events of Olympics. And then, almost without realizing it, our boys become those Okees themselves.
This morning, our entire camp gathered for one of our Olympic traditions, the Song Competition. Green and Grey filled the Council Fire Ring as each team performed traditional Takajo songs, our alma mater, and an original song written by their Okees.
After both teams had sung their four traditional camp songs, it was time for the originals. Grey was up first. Their captain pulled out his speaker and suddenly realized that he didn’t have his music device. In a competition where every fraction of a point matters, Green had an opportunity to benefit from Grey’s mistake. Instead, the Green captain immediately handed over his own music player. The Grey captain downloaded his team’s song and, moments later, his team was able to perform as planned.
It was a small gesture, but one that said a great deal. In the middle of an intensely competitive event, one Okee understood that there was something more important than gaining an advantage.
I always find myself watching our youngest boys during moments like these. They may be singing along, but their eyes frequently drift toward the Seniors around them. They watch how the older boys carry themselves. They notice the Seniors who put an arm around a younger camper, who sing with enthusiasm, and who seem to understand that this moment means something.
There is a lot we teach at Takajo. Through example, we build character and model our Arch Ideals such as integrity, tolerance, love, friendliness, self-reliance, and magnanimity. Our program is built intentionally to teach these values. But without the program being intentionally structured to foster it, our boys learn about stewardship.
Takajo campers spend many summers receiving everything this place has to offer. They are taught by counselors, encouraged by older campers, welcomed into camp families, shown traditions, and guided through experiences that slowly become part of who they are. Eventually, there comes a time when the responsibility shifts. The question becomes less about what Takajo can give our older boys and more about what they can give back to their community.
That thought was very much on my mind today when I invited our Okees down to my house for our annual cookout lunch. Over hamburgers and hot dogs, we sat together for more than an hour and simply talked. I have always enjoyed this tradition because there is no agenda. I give the boys an opportunity to ask me anything they want about camp, and their questions are always fascinating. They want to know why certain traditions exist. They ask about changes that have been made over the years. They wonder what the campus might look like in the future, what our administrative team might look like, and how decisions are made about our program. We talk about the Okee experience, the camper experience, and what Camp Takajo might become for the generations of boys who will follow them.
What strikes me is how thoughtful these conversations always are. These are no longer little boys asking when we might purchase another waterslide. They are adolescent young men thinking about a place they care deeply about. There is an Arch Ideal that speaks to this, magnanimity.
We often associate magnanimity with generosity of spirit—with being gracious toward others—but I believe there is something even broader here. Magnanimity requires us to look beyond ourselves. It asks us to recognize that we are part of something bigger and that, when given an opportunity to influence others, we have a responsibility to leave a community better than we found it. Our Okees had plenty of opportunities to demonstrate that today.
Shortly after lunch, Juniors and Seniors came together for the Whacked-Up Relay. More than one hundred events carried the relay across our campus. Younger boys sprinted, threw, swam, paddled, and raced while our oldest campers cheered them on. Eventually, as tradition demands, everything came down to the final pie-eating contest.
The attention naturally falls on the Okees in those final moments. They are older, they are louder, they are the ones carrying the flag across the finish line or sitting in front of a blueberry pie with the entire camp screaming behind them.
But, the greatest influence of our Okees during Olympics has nothing to do with whether Green or Grey wins. It is found in the way they react when a younger camper makes a mistake, in whether they congratulate an opponent, in the energy they bring to Song Competition, in the encouragement they offer during the relay, and in the example they set when emotions are running highest.
Our Okees have reached the point in their camp journey when younger boys are studying them in exactly the same way they once studied the Okees who came before them. Our Okees are stewards of our community. In just a few days, these boys will leave the shores of Long Lake as campers for the final time. New Okees will move into their bunks next summer. New boys will write the Olympic songs, lead the alma mater, captain the teams, and become stewards of the Takajo community.
Perhaps one of the most meaningful lessons our oldest boys can learn during their final summer as a camper in Maine is that their legacy will not be measured by the games they won or the points they scored. It will be measured by the example they leave behind.
