Above my desk I have a framed newspaper article that I wrote ten years ago when I was a newspaper reporter. It's about a wonderful place called Camp Laurel. Located in the San Bernardino Mountains, near Big Bear Lake, it is a year-round camp for children living with HIV and AIDS.
The short time I spent covering this story left me with years of reflection and both wonderful and disconcerting thoughts, to the point that tonight I find myself still thinking about the little girl who refused to go and play with the other children.
We were up on the football field when I noticed that a young girl--she was no more than eight or nine--was seated a hundred yards away from all the action. I decided to approach her and ask her to join in the games, even though I wasn't really a part of the games, since most of my job as a reporter just entailed observing and asking questions--especially after the helicopter stunt I pulled.
When I asked her why she wasn't playing, she said, "Just because," but that wasn't good enough for me. There was a real reason, one that forced me to keep asking the same question a little differently each time. Finally, I said, "Come on, I'll go play with you. Let's go." The reply she gave me will stick with me for the rest of my life. She said, "Why bother, I'm just gonna die anyway."
I have this article above my desk because it serves as a reminder of why I feel I was put on this earth, which is to help those children who feel hopeless find hope. And that is the main focus of PROJECT CHILDHOOD--that through a continuous celebration of life, we will come to value life.
Eventually, we walked hand-in-hand to the football field, but I, too, still find myself wondering the same question many of you are probably wondering, and the answer is, I don't know. I just don't know. Who knows, maybe her beautiful face will show up in one of your entries.
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