Category: camp

Last night was the alumni shabbat at camp. To explain: I went to Camp Hess Kramer and Gindling Hilltop Camp when I was young (1969-1979). The last few years, the alumni association has had a problem where alumni can return to camp for a Shabbat during a session. Last night was the Shabbat I selected; it was the first Shabbat of a week-long session with campers aged 7-10.

This Shabbat, in many ways, was a typical Alumni shabbat. You arrive. You do the walk around the cabin area to collect the campers and head off to Shabbat services. You have a camp shabbat service in the chapel at the top of a mountain, overlooking the Pacific ocean. You return to the dining hall for a dinner of chicken, rice pilaf (some years, it is noodles), and broccoli, with lemon puffs for dessert. You have a song session. You have dancing, You return home. This has been the basic structure of Shabbat at camp for years on end. Of course, there have been changes. The service has gone from something based on Union Prayer Book I to creative services to the current camp siddur based on Mishcon Tephilo (the current Reform prayerbook). Dinner has remained chicken. The song session has gone from campers with songbooks at the tables, led by Chuck Feldman on the piano or others on guitar to a raucous jump around session to modern songs, with lyrics projected on a screen, in the pavillion. Dancing has gone from the older Israeli dances (think Mayim and Zamir Atik) to a mix of old and modern Israeli dances to things like Flashdance. But it remains a fun and relaxing evening.

Last night, my daughter came with me. This added to the adventure in two ways. First was the travel… she’s on a learners permit, and I let her drive. This included driving on Kanan-Dume Road (a nice wide canyon road), Pacific Coast Highway, the road to Hilltop (a one-lane very twisty canyon road with no barrier to the cliff), and Decker Canyon/Westlake Blvd (a more typical twisty canyon road). This included both evening and night driving, including use of brights. I’m pleased to say she did very very well.

Bringing my daughter also had another motive. She is a camp alumni, having been at Hilltop in 2005. But she’s also gotten alienated from modern congregational Reform Judaism. Modern large congregations have become unwelcoming. The children, especially, have become overly focused on status and money, and what schools you go to and whether you grew up there and are part of their cliques. If you don’t meet those standards, your life is miserable. Erin’s been subjected to that at both Beth Hillel and Ahavat Shalom, and right now she has no desire to be a part of it. She wants to take a break from Judaism. I had been hoping that this camp visit might remind her about the good times that are possible when the people and place are right.

Did that work? Alas, no. It’s not that she had a bad time, but right now her experiences have left her unable to see the good under things. Perhaps that’s because the wound is still so fresh. So I’ll just have to be happy with the neutral for now, and trust that she’ll find her way when she’s off at college. We did have some interesting discussions about this over dinner with the camp director. What Erin feels is not uncommon, which is reassuring. There are different things that draw people to faith, customs, and shared history. For me, it was camp, not congregational Judaism. For others, it is college and Hillel or Chabad. For still others, it is when they start a family or deal with a family crisis. At some point, you can’t push anymore, and you have to trust that the background you laid will one way work its way up.

I did learn some interesting things, in particular that Wilshire has dropped their URJ membership. This is interesting—a number of congregations are doing this in the leaner financial times due to the dues, and the fact that URJ is doing less for the congregations. Are the umbrella organizations for congregations becoming ananchronistic? Perhaps, for Conservative Judaism is having the same problems. I’m sensing we’re in for a shift in congregational Judaism: synagogues are losing members, you’re seeing less movement-affiliated Judaism. Large size is important to congregational survival, but large size turns congregations into cold marble houses focused on fundraising and the donors, and the warmth and joy often disappear. Large Christian congregations don’t appear to have this problem—it would be curious to explore why. Small congregations have the warmth, but not the facilities or the long-term survival. So how do we get the small congregation feel in a large congregation? I’m thinking of something akin to small learning communities (i.e., multiple small congregations working together): The XXX community of Congregation YYY, that does its own programming, has its own mission, but shares the staff and clergy. This was one of the the ideas we discussed over dinner.

One of the other things we discussed was the changing economics of summer camps. There was a great article on this in the NY Times last week. The camps of my days could not survive these days. Getting kids to go weeks without their cherished electronics and communications with friends is hard.

Back to camp… in terms of changes, there wasn’t that much different this year. Some new songs. Perhaps a new dance. But the essential spirit remains. And I’ll be back up there next year for Alumni Shabbats, and perhaps other events over the year.

Last night, I went to my annual Alumni Shabbat at camp. No pictures this time (you can look at last year’s pictures here)—the camp infrastructure hasn’t changed that dramatically, save for the introduction of a sibling menorah to CHK up on the hill at the chapel. This is not to say that their weren’t changes; there were, just more subtle.

Now that the Alumni Shabbat have been going on a few years, they’ve got the process down pat (steadily building from what I saw at the first one back in 2006). Get the alumni together. Sweep in front of the cabins then off to the chapel for services. Dinner (chicken, starch, steamed veggies, apple popovers). Zmirot. Dancing. That was all the same, all good, all high energy.

What I notice first as I go through the evening are the changes, the evolution. The new freestanding metal menorah at Hilltop is an example of this. When Hilltop first started, there seemed to be a conscious effort to distance itself from its sibling camp. It had its own traditions. It did a different Birkot (Kramer only did the really short version). Cabins were numbered, not named. Slowly, over time, there has been convergence. So, arguably, the menorah is a reflection of that: emphasizing in a physical, permanant way that these two camps are siblings, and that Hilltop is the younger smaller sibling (for the newer menorah, due to wind exposure, is shorter and squatter). Alternatively, it could symbolize that Hilltop has reached adulthood: it is no longer a “Pioneer” camp, but an adult camp in its own ramp.

This year there was also a new resident director: Andrea Cohen, and unlike with last year’s resident director (Erin), I could detect subtle changes. Back in the days of Gersh, I detected a stronger Israeli vibe. I can’t put my finger on it: perhap it was in how Hebrew was used, perhaps it was in how things were emphasized. But this year I felt a subtle shift back to positive American Judaism (which to me, at least, is a good thing). But as I said, it was subtle. The Hebrew was still there; the words hadn’t changed. Perhaps it was in the tone of the Shabbat service: there were more camper contributions (like the old days), and a new prayerbook (based on Mishkon Tephilo) that gave a modern Reform emphasis. There also seemed to be a bit more of a sense of connection with the camp history.

As I’ve noted before, some old traditions are gone. Have the kids changed? Is this a reflection of society? I can’t answer that. I do know that our Zmirot song sessions, which were in the dining hall, at the table, with the songleaders up front (and often on a piano), with a reasonable volume level, have been replaced by a full-volume, on-your-feet, in-your-face aerobic singing festival in the pavillion, with lyrics projected. The songs written at camp in my era (such as “Cherish the Torah”), the shabbat songs we thought would never die (Mi Pi Ayl, Al Teeria, Or Zarua) and the Debbie Friedman repertoire have been replaced by the modern rock of folks like Rick Recht and the artists of the Ruach albums. Chuck’s music (Justice Justice, Sanctification, Sim Shalom) has disappeared without a trace. There were some songs in English—the old standby “Sabbath Prayer” from Fiddler, Twist and Shout, and a version of Louie, Louie called Pharoah, Pharoah (Whoa, Baby, Let My People Go).

Dancing has also changed. In my day (ahem, whippersnapper), the emphasis was on Israeli dance, which was (not surprisingly) what you tended to see from the 1960s and 1970s. Horas. Lots of accordions. Debkas. Doubles and triple dancing. There were a few of those, but there was much more Israeli modern rock dancing. The session also seemed shorter, but that could be because I was caught up in a conversion with another Alumni.

These changes don’t bother me. Camps must evolve to survive. The American Jewish camp has evolved into the American Jewish camp. The emphasis can’t stay in the past to please the parents; it must evolve to serve the changes in Judaism and the changes in today’s youth. Traditions evolve and grow, and bring people back to camp. There is still the strong love of the campers for camp; the strong friendships that are created; the sense of camp is a place that is home and safe and an accepting family that loves you. That’s what makes this a special place. Over the years, the love of people for the place is absorbed into the fabric of the infrastructure, until it reaches the point where it just envelops you as you start up the hill.

That is why I jump at the chance to go to camp whenever I can. Be it a visit to Hess Kramer or a visit to Hilltop. They offer (at a reasonable price) and I’ll be there. The place is part of my spirit; it regrounds and recenters me whenever I visit. I thank the leaders at the Wilshire Blvd Temple Camps for the opportunities they provide to visit, and for the hard work it takes to keep the place alive.

Lastly, as you can tell by my posts on camp over the years, this place is a very important piece of my life. It was my safe summer home for 10 years, from 1969 through 1979. It shaped my Judaism, it shaped my sense of self, it shaped my sense of what I could accomplish in the world, it shaped my need to do good and right. But it was my experience. What were your youthful shaping experiences? What did you do, growing up, that had the most impact on who you are today?

Last night, I went to the second Alumni Shabbat at Gindling Hilltop Camp. These alumni shabbat provide the opportunity for former campers and counselors to come back to camp and reexperience Shabbat there. As I never turn down the opportunity to go to either Hilltop or Hess Kramer, I had my request in the moment things opened. Traffic on the coast highway was light (quite a surprise), and after chillin’ a bit at the Trancas Starbucks (where I parked next to Angelyne‘s pink corvette), I was up to camp around 5:30p. There weren’t a lot of changes this year physically (as compared to last year, when the dining hall was rebuilt), other than they had started remodeling and rebuilding the staff lodge (figure 1). To me it looked like it was completely remodeled, but discussions with someone indicated they had only done half of it.

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Tomorrow evening, I’m going up to the Alumni Shabbat at Hilltop. For those not familiar with Hilltop, this is a camp on the top of a mountain near Malibu, so I’ll be walking up and down hills. Late last year I tweaked my lower back (LJ friends only details): at times it is good; at times it can be sore. So here’s the question: Should I bring my ren-faire staff (about a 4½’ sturdy walking pole) with me for the hike to the chapel? [Facebook folk: Just give your opinion in the comments]