Camp RYLA

If my parents needed something done for their projects outside the home, they would typically enlist Loyd or me to do it. I previously detailed how my Mom roped me into being an escort for the DECA Sweetheart Pageant. My father also pulled this stunt.

Dad was in the local chapter of Rotary and at one point, served as President for a year. In 1980, Rotary Club chapters in New Mexico and West Texas decided to start a weeklong leadership camp to take place every summer in Glorietta, NM. My Dad "volunteered" me to represent Artesia The intent of Camp RYLA (Rotary Youth Leadership Achievement, I think that's what the A stood for) was to promote learning better leadership abilities among young men. But that wasn't what happened.

It became the usual battle between the Alpha and Beta Males, similar to what took place in high school all the time. Everything was fine at first, but once the determinations were made as to which class each person belonged in, it stopped being about leadership.

However, I have to admit I brought it on myself. This was one of those times I should have kept my mouth shut. I was trying to be the funny guy and wound up the strange outcast. On top of that, I was the youngest participant. Everyone else was going in their senior years. I was the only junior.

The camp featured a lot of speakers talking to us about aspects of leadership. The only one I remember was this one guy who did the Jesse Jackson chant. Aside from the presentations, there were team competitions and other sport-related activities. They had a shooting range. It is the only time in my life I have ever gotten to fire a handgun. I was lucky and got to shoot the only automatic pistol they had. I found out that while I had good aim with a rifle, I couldn't aim at all with a handgun. I guess I'm lucky that none of the other participants were crazy. It would have been real easy for someone to get a gun, turn around and shoot a few people.

A couple of funny things took place that week. For the softball tournament, they instituted the "one pitch" rule. This meant you got one pitch. If it was a strike, you were out. If it was a ball, you walked. If you hit the ball, it went into play. During the first round, we figured out the pitcher for our opponent couldn't really pitch, so none of us swung at the ball. We all got to walk. I actually got to score the first run. During the last inning, one of the batters connected and I actually caught the ball in the outfield and ended the game. But my hero status didn't last very long.

One day during lunch, I was doing something with my spoon. The next thing I knew, I no longer had it in my hand. Somehow, I had flipped it up and it went over to the table behind me and landed in someone else's food. He didn't seem too happy, but at least it didn't splatter food all over the place.

On the last day, Mom and Dad came to pick me up. I told them I had a good time. A week later, I had to make a presentation to the Rotary Club about what took place at the camp. I didn't go into the bullying, hazing and harassment. I wanted the members to feel like their money was well-spent.

Five years later, I got a piece of mail from Rotary. They wanted me to reflect back five years about my experience with Camp RYLA. This time, I told them everything that took place and how it wasn't very different from going to school, expect that there weren't any girls there.

Many years later, Loyd told me he was jealous that I got to go to that. I told him he didn't really miss much.

So, I was glad that I got another week away from my family, but I disliked how my high expectations for the camp were squashed by situations that I encountered every day at school.