The following poem is called "The Dash" by Linda Ellis. I came across it this past year and really loved the meaning of it, so I've adapted the end of it to fit camp. It reads: I read of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone, from the beginning to the end. He noted that first came the date of her birth, and spoke of the second date with tears. But he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years. For that dash represents