Both of my sisters went to summer camp year after year throughout our childhood. I went once. I had a great time, enjoyed the week. But I never went back no matter how hard my parents tried to convince me. I had no interest. Now, many years later, I think I may know why.
We were nearing the end of the fun-filled week and were set to take our finals in canoeing. I had loved learning to canoe that week. In fact, the experience would lead to many more canoeing adventures, most often with my wife, two kids, and a dog or two along in our 15-foot Grumman. I had been quite a stellar canoer all week, zipping all around the small lake and navigating around the buoy course with ease. But on finals day, I was paired with a person I’d never canoed with before and I was assigned the bow.
Perhaps what I’d become most accomplished at that week was paddling furiously. My paddle powered through the water at near hummingbird wing speed, well at least from a 7-year old’s perspective. Unfortunately, my newly assigned partner somehow had gotten through the week without capturing the concept of steering, something that primarily happens in the stern where he had been placed. We zoomed nowhere. If I paddled on the right, he paddled on the right. If on the left, the left. We had mastered spinning in circles furiously while not really going anywhere. It seemed like forever until the instructor came out and rescued me.
What I couldn’t have known then but what I can clearly see when looking back now, is how at such a young age, I had at least subliminally discovered the futility of life. Of paddling hard, furiously at times. And yet not really going anywhere.
I have read the book of Ecclesiastes many times and during many phases of my life. Each time I find it frustratingly relatable. And I also am grateful. I feel for Solomon. He had to spend a lifetime coming to his conclusion of the meaninglessness of life, of spinning furiously but never really going anywhere. In beautiful contrast, I was blessed to learn that in just one day as a seven year old at summer camp.
And that must have been precisely, looking back now, why I never felt the need to go back.