There are camp-goers and there are non camp-goers. I am a camp-goer, and I was a repeat customer.

Texas has one of the most entrenched camp cultures in the nation, probably the world — it’s almost a subculture. I started going to camp when I was 10 years old and was fortunate enough to have returned each summer for the next eight years. I’ve never asked them, but I’m sure my parents treasured their childless lives during the five weeks we were off at camp as much as we loved being there.

Sure, compared to home, camp was a “primitive” way of living (no air conditioning for five weeks in the Texas summer, in my opinion, is indeed primitive.) It wasn’t uncommon for someone to fake a stomach ache just to get to visit the infirmary because it had A/C. (That was me.) But, the personal growth and developmental values I gained far outweigh the sweaty, air-conditionless days.

Tradition and the rivalries between Texas camps have been going on for well over 50 years. However, no matter which camp you attended or plan to send your children to — Ozark, Mystic, Waldemar, Longhorn, La Junta, Stewart, Heart of the Hills, Laity Lodge, Olympia, Rio Vista, Rocky River Ranch and many more — the lessons taught and learned are essentially the same, and of equal value.

Camp was a place I learned how to successfully live and work with a group, overcome shyness, and the most important of all, develop my social skills. I made lifelong friendships with people in other cities and people with different backgrounds.

I was networking and I didn’t even know it. Had I known, I would’ve had some business cards printed up … Meredith Riddle, Tribe: Tonkawa, Hometown: Houston, Cabin: Rough House, Activities: Advanced in Riflery, Deck Tennis and Fishing.

I’m a Mystic girl, and many of the characteristics that are me, the friendships, the self-confidence, loyalty, and independence came about during my summers spent there. Sometimes, during times of stress, I recall some of my happiest memories at camp sitting around the campfire, entranced by the sounds of the woods, the smell of the fire and the sight of the stars.

Those of us who've gone to camp can use these happy memories as a reservoir of strength in difficult times in our adult life.

When I went to camp, neither cell phones or e-mail existed. Now, in the digital age, when childhood has moved indoors, camp is probably considered not just primitive, but prehistoric.

In 2010, when everyone is in constant communication at ALL times, I can’t help but think it might be a good thing to practice distance, both physical and psychological. Sure, it’s hard for a kid to leave their parents and their hometown friends for five weeks, but think of the newfound conversations they and you will get to have, and their renewed appreciation of home at summer's close.

For me, camp was a stepping-stone to adulthood. And I often find myself wishing that adulthood more resembled camp. It wasn’t until recently that I grasped that wisdom is not rooted in the depths of Facebook, but at a camp along the Guadalupe River in the Texas Hill Country.

Think what a better world it would be if we all — the whole world — had daily reminders of the Golden Rule, were taught how to win with character and how to lose with character, and forced to take a two-hour nap.

I know I’ll send my kids when I have them.

Hopefully my kids can learn the same lessons I did, and maybe re-teach me how life should be.