Strange how some memories take on a golden glow and remain
firmly fixed in the mind's treasure house. For me, one such
recollection took place in sleep-away camp in the Catskills.
I was a counselor. Once a week, two of us would be O.D. (on
duty), which meant remaining on the premises in the evening
and checking in the other counselors. Curfew was eleven
o'clock.
For this assignment, we were ensconced on a ping pong table
lined with warm covers. While resting our heads on puffy
pillows, we snuggled under soft quilts. For further
protection against the chilly mountain night air, we were
bundled up in big bulky sweaters. What no one would dream of
wearing in the city in the summer, everyone had to wear in
the country.
Our supplies consisted of flightlights, notebook and pens. As
the girls returned, we duly recorded the hour. The time
passed quickly as we exchanged earth- shattering ideas and
wrote letters home. No cell phone, one public phone. We knew
the alphabet and we used it. My favorite pastime was looking
upwards and being enthralled by the sight. Because of the
total darkness all around us, almost everything above was
visible. City dwellers seldom saw such starry skies. Dozens
of diamond-like stars, low hung and almost touchable, were
set in a dark blue velvet sky. How breathtakingly beautiful
Hashem's world was!
As a treat for those who were left behind, the other
counselors would come back bearing two cardboard cartons and
wooden spoons (in those pre-plastic days). Inside were scoops
of `melt in your mouth but not from your hips' ice cream. The
dark syrup drizzled and dazzled and the snow-white whipped
cream covered all. Talk about a taste of Gan Eden! I was
completely convinced that this was it.
What made that particular memory especially unforgettable?
Perhaps it was a blend of the magical night, my youthful
enthusiasm, and the tempting treat at evening's end. Whatever
it was -- I can feel it still.
Recently, a wave of nostalgia washed over me and I decided to
recapture, albeit briefly, those golden moments. I attempted
to duplicate the setting. Late one evening, I eased myself
out from under endless domestic activities, and settled on
the open porch with a dish of frozen refreshment.
Immediately, I cancelled the quilt, put back the pillow, and
didn't bother with blankets. The weather was ideal. As I
slowly savored the sweet smoothness of the ice cream
(chocolate, of course), I began noticing some subtle
differences between the present and yesteryear. Then, I was a
19- year-old seminary student; now I'm a great-grandmother.
But that's just a tiny, trivial technicality. After all, age
is just a number and I'm still the same me. Hopefully, a
slightly wiser version and sporting a few well-earned
character lines.
Another detail I observed. Since all the surrounding
apartments were well lit, the sky had taken on a pinkish
glow. The artificial illumination made the stars seem dim,
distant, sparsely sprinkled and widely scattered. But there's
a precious plus in the present scenario. My piece of sky,
because it's Jerusalem, appears peerless and perfect. The ice
cream, that's especially scrumptious, is `homegrown' in
Israel. And as for that illusive item called `youth', I'm not
looking to recapture it. Oh, all those agonies of
adolescence! How grateful I am to Hashem to have survived it
once. No repeat performances, please.
Hashem, in His kindness, puts us in the right place at the
right time. What was appropriate then would be absurd now.
For instance, how can one compare a ping pong table to an
orthopedic mattress? Perhaps it's best to put those Golden
Oldies in storage and keep them well remembered and well
preserved.
Let's get on with the present, which will soon be the past,
anyway. That's how it goes -- or rather, went!
