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I volunteered with Kesem, a nationwide non-profit that works to support children through and beyond their parent’s cancer, during my freshman year. I’ve been involved with the Syracuse chapter of Kesem for nearly a year now, first becoming involved in the spring of my freshman year.

One of my friends dragged me to a meeting, and once I heard how much love people had for the organization, I knew I had to be involved. I had never really done anything service-oriented before, but it was always something that was in the back of my mind. When the opportunity to volunteer with Kesem presented itself, I applied to be a counselor for their flagship program, a week-long summer camp that is completely run by students. The goal of the camp is to give these kids, many of whom grow up far too fast due to a parent having cancer, the chance to be young.

Around the Kesem community, there’s a lot of talk about magic. It sounds ridiculous to type out, but I can fully say with my entire heart, I’ve never done anything in my nineteen years of life that was as magical as my week working at the Kesem camp.

During my time at Kesem, I met a boy named Jumbo, a ten-year-old kid who I met one August afternoon in the middle of the woods somewhere. Jumbo isn’t his real name, the same way my real name isn’t Frisbee either, even though that’s how he and the rest of the campers know me. At Kesem, nobody uses their given names. The children are given the chance to choose what they want to be called, something that gives the campers a feeling of choice over their identity. They’re not just kids whose lives are being torn apart by their parents’ conditions. Instead, they are Phoenix and Bubbles and Shark and Twinkletoes. They’re something they choose to be at camp.

Jumbo was in my yellow unit, a group of a dozen kids from nine to eleven years old. When I met him for the first time, he was shy. His parents had already dropped him off, and he was just standing around while other older campers were singing a camp song. I walked over to him, and the first thing he showed me was how his water bottle had this function that was like a shower stream.

Jumbo was one of the first campers I had interacted with — I was a rookie counselor and probably just as nervous as he was. I could’ve never known during that conversation about his water bottle, but this kid was about to change my life.

While it’s very similar, Kesem is not a classic summer camp. The connection between each of our campers comes from the unique experience each faced during their parent’s battle with cancer. This is why, while there’s some programming including campfires, sports and a lake, there are also events you won’t find everywhere else.

One example is cabin chats every night, which allots scheduled time for the members of each cabin to discuss whatever is on their minds. One night, a second grader will look at you across the dimly lit cabin and tell you about his favorite Nintendo Switch games. The camper next to him might ask what it means if his mom hasn’t been back from the hospital for a month or two.

A staple event of the camp is called Empowerment. Kids and counselors alike complete a trust walk — hands on each other’s shoulders, eyes closed — down to an open field where candles are set up in a circle. This is the time where anyone who wants to share their experience with cancer has the chance. We go around the circle, and tears start to flow. I was crying before anyone even started talking.

I sat next to Jumbo, this kid that I had only known for three days. He didn’t share — he was shy. He didn’t cry either. He just asked me to lie down with him to look at the stars, so we did. He told me about all the constellations he knew, and he told me about how he loves the stars his sister always told him about them. He said that she was too nervous to come to camp, but she’ll be here next year. He told me that Kesem changed his life. Jumbo changed mine.

I looked into the bright blue eyes of this kid, someone half my age that has gone through twice as much. The way he was able to come out of his shell and form a genuine connection with his fellow campers and the counselors through the week inspired me — at his young age, Jumbo allowed himself the grace of letting good into his life. If he was able to step out of his comfort zone, I can too.

Volunteering at Kesem has taught me so much about myself and what it means to give back to an underserved community. I never thought of myself as the type of person who could really change someone’s life, at least not until I worked at Kesem. Being able to be a beacon of hope for kids who have had it so tough is a really wonderful thing, and I implore all of you to find your Kesem.

Keep your eyes up — there are people who need help everywhere. Make the extra effort to find something you really care about, and find someone you think you can help. You won’t regret it. It’s truly magic.

Maurice Holtzman is a ​​sophomore, majoring in Broadcast and Digital Journalism

Published on March 5, 2023 at 11:36 pm