Some people come to college with dreams. Others glimpse that sliver of heaven once they've arrived. Still others only hear the beacon of their true calling afterwards, after the ink on the diploma has dried and the mortar boards have long since been tossed. Philip Lilienthal '62 is perhaps the living embodiment of how those of the latter category often turn out the better for their diverse experiences. As the founder and director of numerous summer camps in South Africa for children with first-hand encounters with AIDS, he has had an uncommonly rich life which has brought him to places and things unimagined in his halcyon college days of old.

Not everything is illuminated

Lilienthal admits that his years at the College weren't as awe-inspiring as he had thought they would be. "I probably would have learnt a lot more if I had had more life experiences," he said. "I didn't have many real 'ah-ha' moments in the classroom; I just assimilated and generally absorbed the experiences, but didn't often see them as significant at the time they're happening." Although he wouldn't realize it until much later, one of those occasions would lend definition to his future work.

Lilienthal recalled a chapel session, when guest speaker Dr. James Robinson, a recipient of the students' charitable contributions made to an organization called the Chest Fund, left a deep impression. "He ... just blew everyone away. If he had wanted us to go to Africa at that very moment, we would have," he said.

Although Lilienthal didn't visit the continent that year, he eventually would, with the Peace Corps. "The Kennedy years were very powerful, with a president coming in with fresh ideas, speaking to young people without what often otherwise seemed like rhetoric, with a program. He was very influential, and you could tell: the Peace Corps was the thing that attracted us most in those years," he said. That infectious optimism of the period colored the world in rainbow tints.

Around the developing world

The Peace Corps sent Lilienthal, newly minted law graduate from the University of Virginia, to Ethiopia, and later to Thailand and the Philippines. His perspectives were drastically altered; he was finding his calling. "I thought it was just a marvelously exciting time," he said. "We tend to be so isolated, so parochial in America sometimes. It was really educational to see ourselves through the eyes of Ethiopians, the eyes of Thais, the eyes of Filipinos."

While in Ethiopia, Lilienthal had an experience that would change his life. It was here that he realized the American notion of summer camp could be exported. After hearing that Lilienthal's family had managed Camp Winnebago in Maine for generations, Peace Corps staff members asked if he would start a camp in Ethiopia. "The Emperor of Ethiopia, Haile Sellasie I, had a granddaughter who was involved in social work–she spoke to Peace Corps staff members about the idea for a camp and they spoke to me. We had, by the time I left, 75 children in three operational camps."

The experience was to etch a lasting impression. "I wanted to go back to Africa to try [the summer camp concept] with other countries. It's a very exportable idea. Camps, as an institution, rather than a particular program, seem to apply everywhere and answer some human need." he said.

As so often happens in life, that aspiration was filed away for a while in the back of Lilienthal's consciousness. He progressed from his seven-year service with the Peace Corps to a short stint at a law firm, before finally deciding on a blended career of a small law firm and owning and operating Camp Winnebago.

To the cradle of civilization

Lilienthal eventually dusted off that old folder of dreams and made them reality. In 2003, leaving the daily affairs of Camp Winnebago to his son, he created WorldCamps out of literally nothing, save experience. He collaborated with HIVSA, a South African non-profit that works with young people affected by AIDS, and as soon as people recognized the value of his idea, it took off.

The first Camp Sizanani-there are six every year-unfolded northwest of Johannesburg, where South African children, almost all attending a camp for the very first time, had a taste of genuine community. Sizanani means "helping each other" in Zulu. Those who received the most help now form a principal part of Lilienthal's cherished memories. "[The kids] were only eight to 15 [years old] but some you wouldn't want to be with on a lonely street at night. But five days into the camp, they had completely turned around," he enthused. "Scowls turned into smiles, resistance into acquiescence … once they saw [the camp] as valid, once they realized we're here for them." The fresh reminiscences generated at each new camp, were for the former residential counsellor of James Hall, "the most amazing thing."

On his own terms

Lilienthal has been praised continuously for his extraordinary efforts. Yet, he has maintained an unfailing measure of humility. "In a sense, it's a selfish choice people have high opinions of," he said of his work. "But I just enjoy waking up and going to work at the camp. Even with the Peace Corps, I never found it noble; it's not a missionary thing."

Indeed, Lilienthal may be far removed from the ivied buildings of the College and the blaze of autumn colors that were his companions in Western Massachusetts an age ago, but the vigor and drive remains little dimmed. The one-time varsity swimming co-captain outlines his plans for the not-too-distant future, "Now we're exploring how to advise and encourage groups in KwaZulu Natal, the province with the highest incidence of AIDS in South Africa, to have their own camps," he said. "This is just the very beginning."

The philosophy truly defines the man. Phil Lilienthal's is relatively simple, and he lives each moment by its unfettered wisdom. In his words, "The journey has to be fun. It's not the job or the place you get to that's important, it should be the doing of. It should never be a sacrifice."