The Bonds that Last a Lifetime

Follow @RabbiIsrael Camp is, and always must be, first and foremost about creating a formative experience for the current generation of campers. All good camps - and there are many of them - understand this principle intrinsically and make operational decisions accordingly. Nostalgia for long-time traditions, songs,or facilities should never prevent a camp from making decisions necessary in order to best fulfill its current mission. And yet, part of what makes camp so wonderful is the long-time connections and traditions it sustains.

I have been thinking about this idea a lot this summer, as Camp Ramah, New England is in the midst of a major capital campaign that will result in significant changes to the current facility and the use of space on the site. While such major long-term issues are often forgotten a midst the day-to-day (or minute-to-minute) immediate concerns, I have been pleasantly surprised to see how regularly staff and campers are talking about the long-term plans for camp and the changes that will come.  There are, of course, pockets of resistance that always come with major change, but most of the conversations I have taken part in or overheard have been remarkably positive - including from the young staffers who are often most nostalgic for keeping things the way they were. Part of the "good vibe" that I sense comes from the fact that Camp Ramah's director, Rabbi Ed Gelb, the staff, board of directors and facilities committee (chaired by Noam Neusner) have created an exciting plan that re-thinks major aspects of the camp's layout, but pays careful attention to the essence of what is important to campers (like maintaining a completely separate area for the oldest campers).

While change is exciting and necessary, the other part of what makes camp great are the long-time traditions and customs. When you start singing a camp song or cheer, you can just watch the smiles appear on the faces of people of all ages who know that song. Watching long-ago campers who are now parents bringing their children to camp for the first time and showing them the bunks that they slept in and other special places around camp never ceases to bring that warm feeling and smile to my face. During the tornado warning on the first day, new campers watched with amazement as the counselors sung their eidah (unit) songs from many years before.  The ability to come back and re-live and re-create for others memories such as these is undoubtedly one of the motivational factors for many staff members who were once campers themselves.

Balancing the needs to move forward while maintaining the essence of what it is that makes camp a special place is a delicate matter, but one that I think Camp Ramah does extraordinarily well.  This ideal may be best personified by Amichai Margolis.

Ami is here this week for the Kishroniyah program - a specialty week for the older campers to learn from experts in a range of different areas (including baking and cooking with Paula Shoyer).  Ami was a camper here in the late 80s and early 90s and then was Rosh Shirah (head songleader) for 18 summers from 1998 - 2005.  He met his wife at camp, and now lives and works in the Greater New York area, teaching music at a day school and, this summer, working at Ramah's New York area day camp in Nyack, NY.

When Ami walks into camp with his guitar on his back, he is greeted with excited hugs from campers and staff - many of whom were never here or were young A-side campers when he was last here on staff for a summer. Like many of the Kishroniyah leaders, Ami makes himself available not only to the B-Side campers who are in his A Capella workshop, but also becomes a general presence in camp for the week, helping out wherever he can, including impromptu leading all of B-Side for nearly 45 minutes in song and dance when a thunder & hail storm required everyone to stay in the Chadar Ochel (dining hall) after lunch one day.

While I am certain that Ami's presence here, both for him and those who knew him from when he was on staff, is enhanced by nostalgia, he does not come here to dwell on the past.  Rather, he comes here to help build the ruach (spirit) and provide programming for *this* group of campers. Yes, he may tell stories around a campfire from his days at camp, but the stories are carefully selected and shared to impact the campers who are there, not just a re-living of memories.  To get a sense of his leadership at camp, see how he gets all of A-side involved in singing after dinner one night:

Ami is just one of many examples of the connection between past and present playing out this week that I experienced.  At another point, I saw a grandmother, herself a camper of Camp Ramah in Connecticut (CRNE's predecessor) in the 50s, whose children attended and staffed in the 70s and 80s, come visit for the day to watch her grandson lay tefillin for the first time, exactly one month prior to his Bar Mitzvah. I saw a parent of current campers visit with her youngest daughter, a future camper - the mother's grandparents had worked at camp for many years. Ramah at 60 means that such 3rd (and even 4th) generation stories are becoming more commonplace, but no less moving.

It is easy (and I have seen it done in other camps before) for such nostalgia to really become narcissistic and to be more about the past then the present and future. The striking thing for across each of these stories is the impact camp has made for so many people is one that lasts a lifetime, and for each of them, the reason for being here is not to re-live those memories, but to create new experiences to transform this generation of campers into mentchen, and, in many cases, the leaders of tomorrow's Jewish community.

Enjoy the photos below!