Free Web Hosting Provider - Web Hosting - E-commerce - High Speed Internet - Free Web Page
Search the Web

I by no means deny that this is, in my case, true. However, this summer, as I prepared to enter my final year of high school, a most curious and interesting thing happened. It was as if the metaphoric gates to my formative years reopened for one week to allow, at the least, necessary maintenance; at the most, complete renovation. When I first learned of the possibility of traveling across the country for a Youth to Youth conference, I agreed with a hesitant "okay," reasoning that any other decision would prove a disappointment; when I stepped out of the concourse seven days later, I was prepared to state my beliefs on any subject with clarity and unwavering confidence and to treat all people with the utmost openness and respect.

Youth to Youth is a phenomenon which defies general description and classification. It is, on the most superficial level, an organization whose goal is to encourage middle and high school student to lead healthy lives free of the dangers of drug use. However, the power, and, often, the magic, of Youth to Youth lies far beyond that. Because it draws willing students of varying social, cultural, economic, and geographic backgrounds together in a positive environment, it fosters friendship, understanding, and growth. The freedom and opportunity to be oneself and speak one's mind abound. Liberated from the confines of local stereotypes and assumptions, friendship, emotion, and growth transcend all limits: the ultimate drug-free fun.

From the moment I learned of the opportunity to travel to Claremont, California, until the final deadline, I had less than seventeen hours to make my decision. After much debate, I came to the conclusion that a decision to refuse the chance would likely be one I would regret for the rest of my life; the money I needed, I reasoned, would just come. The rest of my planning was, by necessity of time, similarly haphazard. I began fundraising frantically, patrolling hallways and bus stops after school and during exams with my ever-present box of one-dollar king-size Hershey's bars. Twice I set up camp at the local grocery store for hours-long candy-hawking marathons. Still, despite my continual doubts, and with the help of a few generous donations, I was able to pay not only the seven hundred dollars for flight, conference, and activities, but an additional two hundred for food and (mostly Star Wars-related) souvenirs.

cannot remember events from the conference, which was held on the campus of Claremont-McKenna College and lasted four days, in their correct chronological order. Instead, it has become a series of vignettes imprinted in my memory and life, a blur of hugs, laughter, and inspiration. I remember my roommate, Crystal, who had just come from a six-week college-prep camp in Alaska, not even stopping at home before flying to California. I remember my ten-person "family group," where we talked about our cosmic hopes and fears while sitting in a back-rub circle. I remember Erin, a younger girl who stopped me on the first day of the conference to compliment me on my Queen Amidala keychain and who became my honorary little sister for the remaining three days. I remember the opening ceremony skit, in which the thirteen other participants from New York and I reenacted a Youth to Youth conference from the 1980's to eighties music, complete with period clothing and makeup. I remember the pickup game of capture-the-flag, New York versus Colorado, we played at ten PM the night we arrived. I remember the outdoor pool party the first night of the conference, when conference-goers from California, Kansas, Colorado, Canada, Alaska, Maryland, New York, Grand Cayman, Guam, and Japan cooperated to form aquatic congo lines that more than spanned the length of the pool. Most of all, I remember the joyful tears of the final family group and the closing ceremony, where we simultaneously mourned the passing of the conference and celebrated the memories and friendships we had forged.

The conference ended on a Wednesday; the other New Yorkers and I, eighteen in all, moved to a Best Western closer to Los Angeles, which became our base of operations for the next day and a half. Thursday morning we set out via city bus for Universal Studios Theme Park, planning to leave at four that afternoon for Santa Monica Beach, where we would go swimming and watch the sunset. In reality, we didn't leave the park until almost seven, and we didn't arrive at the beach until nine, long after the sun had set. Although we were certainly disappointed, it by no means prevented us from swimming. We hadn't traveled this far not to go in the ocean! Being short on time, Leah, Liz, and I ran into the water in our clothes. Unable to believe that we were actually in the ocean, we tasted the water. We had arrived!

In retrospect, I believe that swimming in the ocean our final night in California was possibly the most powerful, liberating event of the entire trip. Many of us had never been to the ocean before, and the sensation of being swept toward the shore by a wave was incredibly forceful -- belittling, awe-inspiring, freeing. For most of us, it was our most intimate encounter with nature. It was simply each one of us and the largest ocean in the world.

I have already begun reaping the benefits of my experience. When staffing a local Youth to Youth conference two weeks later, I dealt with the problems I faced with much more maturity and composure than I otherwise would have had. I transformed my rather uncooperative family group into a veritable family of eleven students from Western New York. I unabashedly wore Princess Leia-like "cinnamon" buns over either ear one day, good-humoredly laughing off the numerous stares I received. I became much more of a presence than I was otherwise accustomed to being, fulfilling the true meaning of "youth staff." When I returned from the conference, I applied for several jobs, one of which came to fruition, with a degree of assertiveness entirely new to me. I am friendlier, more approachable, and less judgmental than ever before -- and only because, in a pinch, I followed my gut instinct and went to California.