I ran away from home one day. I don’t remember why, I just remember going. I lived on Beachwood back than, so the walk to the YMCA wasn’t a long one. Anyway when I got the “Y” I told someone (shepherd?) that I was running away, and asked if he could give me directions to phantom lake camp (I had just spent a week there). H was of course taken aback “you can’t run away to phantom” and I think he said something about calling someone, so I left. I had a feeling I might know the way, or at least I should be able get myself close, so I started walking. I made it as far as the corner of East and Broadway. (About two blocks) when a sheriff pulls up and asks me where I was going. “I’m running away to phantom lake” I tell him. He asked me if I knew how to get there, I said no, so he gave me a ride. When we got there, it wasn’t the way I had remembered it. There were no kids playing, no counselors doing their thing. Just empty “lodges” and a couple of grown ups. I remember talking with someone about making it on my own, that I thought I’d be okay, and I remember him telling me I could stay if “I earned my keep.” I said “I will”. Well, I didn’t quite know what “earn my keep” meant, but he soon began to show me. The work wasn’t brutal, it was just unending. By the end of the day. I found myself lying on a bunk, asking myself if this was what I really wanted. My spirit wasn’t broken, I was just hungry. So when the man from Phantom asked me if I really wanted to run away, I tiredly said “no, I want to go home”. I don’t remember how I got home, no one ever talked about it. I just remember the sheriff and the man from camp trying to teach me a lesson. I wonder what those hard nose, true blessing in disguise type of people that guided me that day must think of today’s “feelings are god” type of society. And if they ever realized that they touched at least one dumb kid’s precious life. Sometimes, our kids just need to learn a lesson.