Overheard at the pool:

"Look at us playing water polo, a bunch of us fucking kids from the hood!"

I was cheerleading an exciting game of water polo for guys that have rarely been able to even swim in their lives. In fact, a young man about 19 or 20, did not know how to swim and was getting lessons from a fellow camper. There's a heck of a lot of colorful language being thrown around these parts, but frankly, I feel right at home. These are the grown up versions of the kids at my elementary and middle schools, and they're so inclusive and welcoming I feel like an insider, despite being the whitest, blondest thing in these parts. Though there continue to be issues with them in groups (think gang references, fights brewing), and they've only been here 24 hours, I am certain this week will have a great impact for some of them.

I combed out a camper's hair to check for any remaining nits, and while making conversation with him, I asked if he'd gone on the night hike with his brother. "No," he replied, "I did some freestyle rap with some of the other guys." As though that's a totally normal thing to do, and for me to hear.

Tonight's activity was "Crossing the Line." If you don't know what it is, I'll explain it a bit next time. For now, I'm going to bed, digesting the night's activity. Hint: it reduced most of a room of over 100 young men to tears. Incredibly moving.