A summer camp symphony of dribbling basketballs, screaming leaps into the spring-fed lake and bugle reveille floated into a pavilion where boys sat cross-legged in a circle, whispering to one another. Some wore white plastic masks, to hide the feelings their words conjured up. Some just stared at their shoes.
One small, skinny boy took a deep breath, then spoke. “Well, um, when my teachers and friends and family were all at my dad’s funeral, it felt really nice,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “They were all really nice and helped me, and that felt good.”