
When I first came to TAF, I was ten years old: incredibly shy and really quiet. I didn't trust people easily and I rarely talked in anything louder than a whisper. My parents had signed my sister and I up for a summer camp to "get us out of the house". They dropped me off at Oakwood Hall, told me they'd be back Saturday night, then left. Walking alone into the dorm, I felt extremely alone. A girl, who later was my suitemate, came up to me and started talking about inconsequential things. That girl became my first friend at TAF. She showed me that everyone there was really friendly. Still, as the week passed, I stayed withdrawn unless I was with my friends. I didn't try to talk to others, or share stories during small groups until the last few days. Once I did, though, I was surprised that people actually listened as if what I was saying was important or worth thinking over.
I came back from TAF extremely happy that I'd went, but also incredibly disappointed in myself. Why hadn't I opened up sooner? Why had I kept up my walls and not let others in? I told myself that next year, I'll trust others and share from the very first day.
Over the years, I really came to love TAF and what it did for me. Every August, I would arrive home after TAF with tears from TAF blues, missing all the campers, and exhausted from lack of sleep. But I’d be a little more confident, a little more outgoing, a little more knowledgeable.
In the summer of '06, I accidentally made other plans to travel out of the country during the week of TAF. I told all my TAF friends that I wouldn’t be going and sulked for a bit. Then I got over it: I was fine. That year, I stopped communicating with some of the TAFers. I found other things to do with my time rather than reminisce about old TAF memories.
As TAF 2007 approached, my parents sat me down and told me that this TAF would be my last. They hurled reasons at me: it was too expensive; it was a waste of time; it was an excuse to hang out with friends for a week. Leaving TAF for the first time four years ago, I'd imagined I would be devastated when the time came for me to leave TAF for good. For some reason, though, when my parents made that decision for me, I was okay with it. Sure, I would miss being able to see friends from St. Louis, Boston, Chicago, wherever. But I wasn't miserable about it; it was as though I wasn't feeling the "taflove" anymore.
Sunday afternoon came and stepping off the bus to Manchester, I found myself filled with anticipation. I still had low expectations for the week, but I was strangely excited. Getting tackled by hugs the moment I walked into the dorm really made me feel as though I was missed and wanted. The warn welcome I'd received actually made me re-evaluate my thoughts about TAF.
Monday passed by so slowly. By the end of the day, I was really tired, but satisfied. Even though every activity we did felt like it took forever, I truly enjoyed going through the different workshops and activities. I also felt like my small group could really become close to each other and share personal experiences we normally wouldn't say. That possible closeness was a good part of the reason I had decided to come back. So far, TAF was exceeding all the low expectations I had.
That night, I stayed up talking in a friend's room. I listened to them voice their thoughts about TAF. From the way I had reacted to my parents earlier that summer, I thought I would've also been complaining about TAF and how I didn’t like it, but instead I just listened. For some reason, I didn't feel that way anymore.
Somehow, within the 24 or so hours I had been back at TAF—back on Manchester campus, back in the Union's JH room and Oakwood's comforting halls, back amongst my Taiwanese American friends—something had changed. I realized that I missed TAF...a lot more than I thought I could. I missed the hugs. I missed the openness and individuality of all the campers and staffers. I missed just being in this friendly, safe environment. After skipping TAF '06, I had convinced myself that I didn't need TAF. I'd pretended I was completely okay with the fact that these were the last 7 days I would ever spend with TAF. But I'm not okay with it. I don’t want this to be my last year. I don't want to leave this wonderful, beautiful place forever. I hope that I'll be able to convince my parents that TAF has changed my life positively and inspired me to become a better person. And maybe that will persuade them to allow me to come back.
Leaving TAF Sunday afternoon was incredibly difficult. Hugging my best friends goodbye, I started to cry. I was pretty surprised, since I wasn't a very emotional person and I absolutely never cried in public. However being back at TAF for the first time in years had broken down all the barriers I had inside. It's funny, crying in the real world, back at school, was seen as a weakness, a flaw. Yet, for some reason, when I was at TAF, surrounded by friends, it was all right. So in a way, TAF taught me that it’s okay to cry.
I genuinely love TAF. So often, I hear this said by campers and I wonder what that “taflove” really is. Why does TAF leaves such an impact on our hearts? Some people love TAF because of the open and trusting atmosphere. Others love TAF because they’re free to act how they want without people already having formed opinions of them. I love TAF because every person that goes is different from everyone else, but we all have one thing in common: our heritage. That characteristic is what allows us to really connect with other campers and form lasting bonds which make TAF special. When I’m at TAF, hugging my friends or having small group discussions, I feel as though I matter, as though I belong.
I want to go back year after year. Even though I know that it isn't possible and sometime in the near future, I will have to stop. But I want to experience that week of fun, laughs, tears, and lessons over and over again. I want to receive the hugs from TAFers, the kisses from friends, and the piggyback rides from everybody else every year. I miss each and every person at TAF because all of them bring something different and special to TAF. I wish I'll always remember the memories I get from TAF. I wish that I'll stay in touch with my friends forever because I love them all so much. I really wish that I won't be forgotten as just another camper; that I contributed something unique to TAF; that I was able to make someone else's TAF experience just a little bit better. Someone once told me that "Home is where the heart is." TAF is my home away from home. TAF is where I've met some of the greatest people in my life. TAF is where my fellow TAFers have not just become my closest friends; they've become my second family.
Joyce Jih, 14, Junior High program, 4 years at TAF