The Thread That Runs Through It All

Editor's note:

The postcards, photos and patches that are part of this spread are all taken from Will’s childhood scrapbook. He emailed us to say, “I’m cleaning house and found this collection of old Y memorabilia. Do you think the Y would be interested in any of this?” Our answer was “yes” which also led to learning more about Will and him sharing his Y story.

Do you have artifacts, photos or a story to share? We love camp history!

Email lfc@ymcanorth.org and you could be featured in an upcoming issue.

My connection to the YMCA began with an accident.

In 1949, shortly after my family moved to South Minneapolis, my mother and I were standing on the dock at Lake Harriet looking at the fish below. I leaned a little too far over the edge and fell in.

I remember being surprisingly calm. What I remember most is not being able to get back to the surface.

A young bystander jumped into the water and pulled me out.

The following week, my mother enrolled me in swim lessons at the downtown YMCA.

Neither of us could have known it at the time, but that simple decision would begin a relationship that has lasted more than 75 years.

As I grew up, the YMCA seemed to grow alongside me.

There were Saturday mornings riding the streetcar downtown for swim lessons. There were after-school programs, Hi-Y clubs, college-aged mentors, and friendships that stretched across schools and neighborhoods. And then there was camp.

For six summers, YMCA Camp Ihduhapi became part of the rhythm of my life.

Like generations of campers, I spent my days swimming, paddling, learning outdoor skills, and discovering what it meant to be part of a community. Some memories have faded with time, but others remain crystal clear.

One morning, counselors woke us before dawn and quietly loaded us into canoes. We paddled onto a still lake and waited together in the darkness as a solar eclipse approached. When totality arrived, we looked up at the sun’s glowing corona surrounding the moon.

I remember that moment as vividly today as I did then.

Camp has a way of doing that. Long after the details of everyday life fade, certain moments remain.

My final summer as a camper took me to YMCA Camp Menogyn and the Boundary Waters. Looking back, I realize that camp was teaching lessons that extended far beyond paddling, camping, or outdoor skills. It was teaching responsibility. Confidence. Service. It was teaching me how to be part of something larger than myself.

What I didn’t realize then was that camp wasn’t just shaping my summers — it was shaping my future.

Before long, I found myself on the other side of camp life, returning first as an assistant counselor and later as a counselor at Camp Ihduhapi. The same camp that had once welcomed me as a young camper now trusted me to guide others through their own experiences.

There is something powerful about returning to a place that helped shape you. I began to see camp through a different lens. The campfires, canoe trips, and cabin conversations were still there, but now I understood the people behind them, the counselors and mentors who quietly created opportunities for young people to grow.

Years later, I would find myself leading programs, serving on boards, mentoring others, and helping steward the future of the YMCA. Looking back, I can trace a direct line to those summers at camp. Those experiences didn’t just give me memories. They gave me a model for leadership, service, and community that stayed
with me throughout my life.

Over the years, that journey carried me to places I never could have imagined as a young boy riding the streetcar downtown. Through YMCA programs, I worked at camps in Minnesota and Washington, helped build a youth retreat center in Japan, taught English overseas, and formed friendships that have endured for decades.

Wherever life took me, the YMCA was never far away.

As a university student, I lived at the University YMCA. Later, I served as a volunteer, fundraiser, board member, and advocate. Different chapters, different responsibilities, but always the same underlying mission: helping young people discover opportunities, community, and purpose.

Looking back now, I don’t think of my YMCA involvement as a collection of separate experiences.

I see a thread.

A thread that began with swim lessons.

A thread that ran through campfires, canoes, college years, overseas adventures, volunteer leadership, and lifelong friendships.

A thread that continues today.

That perspective is what eventually led my late wife, Ginny, and me to include charitable gifts in our estate plans. We both believed deeply in investing in young people and creating opportunities for future generations. The University YMCA became a significant part of my giving plans because it had been such a significant part of my life.

In many ways, planned giving feels like the natural continuation of a journey that began decades ago.

The YMCA invested in me. Now I have the opportunity to invest in those who will come after me.

When people ask why I have stayed connected to the YMCA for so long, I often come back to a simple formula:

Participation + Responsibility = Ownership

I started as a child taking swim lessons.

Along the way, I became a camper, counselor, volunteer, board member, donor, and legacy supporter.

The roles changed, but the relationship remained.

More than 75 years later, I am grateful for that young man who jumped into Lake Harriet, grateful for a mother who signed me up for swim lessons, and grateful for an organization that continued to open doors throughout every stage of my life.

Not everyone spends a lifetime with the YMCA.

I’ve been fortunate enough to do exactly that.

About the Writer

Will Craig spent six years as a Y camper and six years on camp staff (Christmas Tree, Ihduhapi, Camp Adventure at the Washburn/Richfield Y, and Seattle Camp Orkila). He went on to serve as Chair of the Board of the University YMCA.

Will spent his career at the University of Minnesota Center for Urban and Regional Affairs (CURA), working on policy issues important to the state. He was a pioneer in the field of Geographic Information Systems (GIS).

He chaired the Minnesota Governor’s Council on Geographic Information, then went on to serve as president of three national GIS organizations representing state government, local governments and academia. At the U he helped start one of first GIS degree programs in the country. He credits those positions to the leadership skills he developed at the Y.

He and his wife Ginny were married for 57 years before her death in 2023. They have a son and a daughter, and seven grandchildren.

Of his time working for the Y, Will shared, “Those years taught me the value (and fun) of friendly leadership skills. I carried those skills into the University Y and into my career.”