“What’s this?” my daughter asked me, fingering a yellow plastic soap dish. I’d begun assembling items for her ten days away at Jewish sleepover camp, and she was sorting through them. That my daughter, who knows three languages, can sing most of the lyrics to Fiddler on the Roof, and can program my iPhone, had never encountered that most prosaic of plastic objects occupying a central place in every camper’s toiletry case, struck me. I was reminded -- as if I needed reminding -- of the intense life-changing, memory-making and identity-shaping experiences ahead of her at Jewish summer camp.
To mark my daughter’s first time at sleepaway camp, here are my wishes for the new generation of Jewish campers upon their return.
I hope you experienced one unrequited and one requited crush.
I hope you saw the sun set every night, and the sun rise once.
I hope that, the next time you attend shul on Shabbat morning, the words and melodies take you back to praying outdoors, surrounded by friends.
I hope you danced your heart out and didn’t care a whit about whether your moves were cool. (They were.)
I hope you come back healthy -- except for having temporarily lost your voice from singing your guts out.
I hope you did at least one thing that scared you just a bit.
I hope you will challenge me to a game of cards when you get home -- preferably Hearts or Cribbage.
I hope you have Hebrew words running through your head, and inky black siddur letters etched in your mind.
I hope you have a beginning sense of some of Israel’s political dilemmas.
I hope you have a new in-town friend, a new out-of-town friend to visit, and two new out-of-town friends with whom to Skype.
I hope you laughed a thousand times and cried once.
I hope your counselors were loving, fun, smart, athletic and artistic, and just weird enough to be inspiring.
I hope you are already contemplating next year’s plays, songs, and dances.
I hope you made an effort to include someone who was feeling left out.
I hope you forged new sensory memories containing two new tastes, three new sounds, and five new smells.
I hope you heard at least one song by the classic Israeli folk-rock group Kaveret.
I hope you can sing the chorus and at least three verses of Don Maclean’s American Pie.
I hope that hearing The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin and The Guess Who makes you want to dance.
I hope you banged on the tables in the chadar ochel until your palms hurt.
I hope you passed a swimming level.
I hope you stood up on waterskis as well as on stage.
I hope you held a hammer, a sewing needle, a yad, and a paddle.
I hope that when you hear the word Judaism, your memory lands on snippets of conversations punctuated by challenging questions.
I hope you drew on courage, bravery, prudence and empathy.
I hope you didn’t care what you wore but knew you looked great in it.
I hope you can sing Erev Shel Shoshanim and Ani V’Atah.
I hope your towels got sandy enough to remember it’s summer.
I hope that when it’s time to get ready for bed at home, you instinctively reach for your soapdish.
I hope your countdown to next year goes slowly enough to allow you to appreciate each day for what it is, but quickly enough to make the time fly.
**A version of this appeared in The Ottawa Jewish Bulletin**
