Clay Meredith

The older I get, the more shocked the looks on people's faces are when I tell them I am going back to summer camp. As somebody who has a passion for travel and whose ultimate goal is to see as much of the world as I can, I have ironically been spending my summers in the most isolated and repetitive way possible.

I vividly remember 12-year-old Clay sitting in the backseat of my Dad’s Prius being driven up the lane to Camp Pasquaney for the first time. I was so nervous to be away from my parents for seven weeks in rural New Hampshire that we had pulled over on the side of the highway for a vomit break, we were already running late. When we parked, I felt the urge to continue to express discontent with my summer plans by refusing to open the car door and rather sit and pout for as long as possible. I didn’t need to. Before I made my point, a 16-year-old camper was holding the door open, offering a hand to help me out, and immediately put his arm around me as he grabbed my bags out of the trunk. It took as little as 30 seconds to feel accepted into a place that has given me so much.

Seven summers later, I am going back for my second year as an employee on the council. It is incredible how many lessons and opportunities there are for someone in such a small place for a short period. In 2018, I was a timid kid who needed to find a community to help him come out of his shell. In 2022, I was a cocky 16-year-old who needed discipline, routine, and strong role models to follow. A year ago, in 2024, I was going into my first year of college and needed a reminder of who I was and how to use my gifts in a new community. A paid opportunity to practice being a leader and mentor, leaving full of fulfillment.

Who knows what is in store for me this summer? After all these years, I learned that you never know until you are taking action in the heat of the season. Although it will likely be my last, there is no doubt that the community on a small hillside above a lake in New Hampshire has shaped who I am today.