July, 1972
Alan knew that he would have no trouble falling asleep even if his room were hot and airless and the squirrels were playing tag on the roof. He didn’t remember ever feeling this tired on the busiest school day, but today day camp had been exhausting and he was just wiped. He bounded up the sagging porch steps into the bungalow yelling at his two siblings to stop jumping on their beds and clear out of the bedroom they all shared.
Without a TV for the summer months, the two of them were always inventing new and boisterous ways to amuse themselves, while the baby was already asleep in her crib in the corner, oblivious to all the noise around her. Hopefully, she would stay quiet until their mother returned from her Mah Jongg game across the lawn at the Weinbergs. As for him, the crazy fireworks display arranged by the colony owner’s son, Kenny, had been over the top. The illegal explosives had almost set the entire lawn on fire. He yawned with satisfaction. What a day! It really was time to go to sleep. The others would come in when they got tired enough.
Earlier that day, Charlie, the head counselor of Sun-Ray day camp, had announced that Alan’s bunk would be awarded a special privilege as a reward for cleaning up the leftover candy and wrappers in the shul/casino after the movie night was over. They were going on a nature walk. Yes, their group of nine boys would be allowed to hike down the narrow path alongside the road to the abandoned Plaza hotel just a mile away. “But you have to make sure to stay in a single file behind Steven at all times,” Charlie warned. “There are cars speeding down the road and it could be dangerous.”
Steven was their 15-year-old counselor, a skinny Star Trek freak who could barely control the rambunctious campers ranging in age from 9 to 12.
“When you get to the Plaza,” Charlie continued, “you are on your own. Explore to your heart’s content as long as you are back by lunchtime. We play ‘Capture the Flag,’ this afternoon, so don’t be late. It takes time to choose teams and we want to fit in a swim period.”
Charlie smiled at the excited boys, blew his whistle with authority, and they were off. What he couldn’t know was that as soon as they were out of sight not one boy stayed in line on the curvy road. Instead, they ran and jumped and climbed all the way to their destination. Once there, they fearlessly explored the decaying building, ignoring the rotting floor and roof, and diving into deep crevices in the muddy grounds with glee. All the while, Steven the counselor, with little taste for outdoor activities, sat under a tree and read a paperback that he had stuffed in the pocket of his plaid shorts. It was all great fun and they managed to return in time to eat, proudly brandishing their souvenirs: several tadpoles wriggling in two rusted beer cans, a giant frog in a fried chicken container they had retrieved from the hotel lawn, along with some splintering wooden boards they could use for their clubhouse.
Now Alan dragged out his suitcase from under the squeaky bedsprings and pulled out his pajamas. He sank into a deep sleep almost as soon as he had them on and started to snore gently. Soon he was smiling while he slept. He was having the strangest dream.
He found himself walking through a gate onto a beautiful lawn. In front of him, affixed to a large building was a sign, “A Hearty Welcome to all our Neshama 2014 Campers!” And could that be Steven, his Steven, beckoning him forward from the porch of the building? What was Steven doing here?
“Come on inside, Al,” the newly animated and friendly Steven was saying. “It’s nice and cool in here. The bunks are air-conditioned. Hurry, change into your bathing suit. We’re going parasailing on the lake. In the afternoon you can have a choice of activities; you can either go horseback riding or bungee jumping.” Alan walked into the bunk house astonished to see carpeting on the floor and cubbies crammed with games and fans and all kinds of food. His friend David from the bungalow colony was inside, pointing him in the direction of a nicely made up bed next to his own.
“Hi, Al. You have a couple of emails from your parents on your bed. Oh, and when you call on Friday, don’t forget to ask them if they can bring up your iPhone on visiting day so you can watch a movie on the flight to Disney next week.” David then broke into a whisper. “Guess what? I know what tonight’s night activity is. I overheard Steven talking before. Three Jewish NBA stars are speaking to us about becoming baalei t’shuva, and then Lipa is going to sing!”
There was a loud noise outside the bungalow and now Alan tossed and turned on his narrow bed. He was thirsty and that had been one crazy dream. What were they talking about? What was an iPhone? Who was Lipa? Were they speaking English? He was probably hanging around Steven too much with his science fiction and Trekkie stuff. Now that he was half awake, Alan tried to remember something else that was bothering him. Oh yeah, he had forgotten to put the postcard to his grandmother into the mailbox on the road. Now he’d missed the pickup and she wouldn’t know he needed some comic books for Shabbos afternoon. Maybe he could get to call her tomorrow on the pay phone outside the main house before camp if no one else was on it, but he doubted he’d get a chance. There always was a long line for the only phone on the premises.
Alan turned over and burrowed his head more deeply in the pillow as he faintly heard the screen door shut and his mother run the water in the sink and then tiptoe to her bed in the kitchen. He sighed contentedly. How he loved summer. It couldn’t get better than this, he thought, as he drifted once more into a deep sleep.
Estelle Glass, a Teaneck resident, is a retired educator who is now happily writing her own essays.
By Estelle Glass
