This commentary is by Oliver Egger. He has spent 11 summers, six as a camper and five as a counselor, at Camp Lanakila.
When my parents told 9-year-old me that I was being sent for seven weeks to Lanakila, a summer camp in Fairlee, Vermont, I thought I was being punished. What had I done wrong? But after they mentioned that it was an all-boys camp, the panic really set in. I imagined military drills and pushups in the rain.
I arrived that first day holding onto my mom like she was a life raft. “You must be Oliver!” a booming voice said. “I’m your counselor this summer.” I looked up toward the voice, craning my neck to reach the face, shrouded in flowing black hair and a foot-long beard, of this giant of a man. He was more terrifying than my worst nightmares. Oh no. I turned to my mom and begged her to take me home.
But it didn’t take long for my counselor, Jacob, to subvert my expectations. He was gentle, thoughtful and truly himself. He was an expert on Viking runes and would talk about it with an unselfconscious passion. He was absurdly strong, a gift he put to use as a walking tree house, carrying a dozen 9-year-olds at once. He was an explorer and knew all the flora and fauna of Vermont.
Jacob’s swamp explorations loom largest in my mind. He’d lead a group of boys into the murky and fly-infested bog beside Lake Morey. “We are going to conquer this swamp!” Jacob shouted, channeling the Vikings he so reminded me of. Onward we followed between the cattails.
We would emerge from our adventures caked in mud and tallying up the leeches we peeled off our bodies. The boy with the most leeches would get a hand-carved staff by Jacob. The winner that time — 16 leeches — got our cheers.
I couldn’t have said at the time why I loved such experiences so much, but looking back, I think I know now: this was a model of masculinity that was wholly new to me, one that showed me that you can be a leech-covered, mud-caked bear of a man without sacrificing sensitivity and wonder.
I have since spent 11 summers at Lanakila and what draws me back is being able to be what Jacob was for me: living proof of the simple but powerful truth that, as we often say at camp, there are many ways to be a man.
The state of young men in America today can hardly be described in glowing terms. They are far behind women in terms of education success in grades K-12 and in enrollment and graduation from four-year college. In addition, men are lonelier than ever and, as of 2022, die by suicide 3.85 times more than women.
While this data captures concerning disparities, they have been rarely discussed, leaving many men feeling resentful of mainstream culture. However, former president and now President-elect Donald Trump has had no qualms capitalizing off of male grievances for his political gain. Whether through his hailing of authoritative leaders or his courting of “manosphere” influencers, Trump has offered young men his own shamelessness as an antidote to their resentment. And men — as the massive gender gap in election results illustrates — love him for it.
According to Richard Reeves’ book, “Of Boys and Men,” much of young men’s struggles can be traced to a rapidly changing culture that is eroding their understanding of what it means to be a “good man.” A decline of male role models, caused by the shrinking number of male teachers in the classroom and the erosion of male spaces, means young men aren’t receiving the guidance they need.
The loving single-gender space of Lanakila became a safe incubator for me to work through that central question of what kind of man I wanted to become, simply by offering counselors that uniquely exemplified what manhood can mean. While Jacob looms largest in my mind, there were dozens of others, each exemplifying an assurance in their own brand of masculinity: Angus playing the mandolin; Nick chopping wood; Jordan painting, and so many others.
Predominantly male environments are often feared as incubators of the worst instincts in men. And I understand why, given their sexist history. But intentionally cultivated male spaces, including summer camps like Lanakila, sports teams, or boy’s groups in schools, can be a bulwark against young men’s ever increasing slide towards loneliness, resentment and extremism.
If we fail to offer them these spaces and the role models they can produce, young men will inevitably look for them themselves and find sorry excuses in Trump or the misogynistic influencers that helped uplift him, yet again, to the presidency. It is not some original sin in boys that draws them there, but a need for guidance in an ever-shifting world. And who can blame them?
A few weeks ago, at the funeral for the beloved long-time director of Lanakila, Barnes Boffey, I saw Jacob again. He gave me his signature bear hug and told me he was proud of the man I’d become. I thought then of what Barnes often said, “To be a man you have to see a man.” I was lucky to have Jacob as one of many such men for me.
Read the story on VTDigger here: Oliver Egger: Summer camp and the value of male role models.