In a few short weeks, your sons are coming home. And they will likely, after dinner, pick up a tablet or some form of device to entertain themselves. But here, after dinner, it’s not even a thought or consideration that technology may enter their day. We are at a point in the summer where our boys don’t even think about it.
On an average of five nights per week, when the camp isn’t coming together for a scheduled all-camp activity like our fireworks, plays, or campfires, we have organized freeplay we call “hot stove.”
There isn’t an activity on the schedule, yet the campus somehow becomes even more alive. Across camp, footballs are flying through the air, basketballs are bouncing on the courts, and frisbees are sailing across open fields. No one organizes these games, they simply happen.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard a camper look around and say, “I’m bored.” That observation has less to do with Takajo’s busy schedule than it does with the simple fact that camp remains one of the few places where boys are allowed to be boys. No phones. No iPads. No endless scrolling. Instead, boys create their own fun. They invent games, settle disagreements, include the younger camper who’s standing nearby hoping someone will ask him to play, and learn how to entertain themselves as well as each other. Those moments may seem ordinary, but they’re quietly teaching lessons that don’t appear anywhere on the daily schedule.
We often think of our program as baseball, tennis, sailing, waterskiing, woodworking, ceramics, and countless other activities. Those are certainly the vehicles through which our boys spend their days. But, beneath every activity is another curriculum altogether. A baseball game teaches resilience after striking out and humility after hitting the game-winning run. Living in a bunk teaches patience, compromise, and respect for others. An older camper inviting a younger boy into a pickup football game teaches kindness and inclusion. None of those lessons appear on a schedule, yet they are among the most valuable parts of the Camp Takajo experience.
They’re also passed down from one generation of campers to the next. Our youngest boys naturally look up to the older campers. They notice how they shake hands after a game, encourage a teammate who made a mistake, treat their counselors, and carry themselves around camp. But, nobody hands them a leadership manual. Instead, leadership instincts come naturally to our boys because of how they are bought up at home and how it’s reinforced in their summer home. Every camper becomes someone else’s role model. Today’s Crow hopes to be tomorrow’s Hawk. Tomorrow’s Hawk aspires to become an Eagle. Every stage of camp provides another opportunity to lead by example, until one day those same little boys find themselves as Okees, unknowingly inspiring the next generation.
It’s no accident that many of our most treasured traditions have endured for generations. Whether it’s gathering around the Council Fire, singing the Alma Mater as a camp, retelling the story of how the MJG Playhouse was built, or competing in Olympics, these traditions remind our boys that they are part of something much bigger than themselves.
When I watch those spontaneous games at Hot Stove, I’m reminded that some of the most important parts of camp aren’t planned at all. They’re simply what happens when boys are given the freedom to play, the opportunity to belong, and the example of good people to follow.
