The Night After Visiting Day
[Advice to potential Olim: Skip this post.]
I don't have a lot of summer camp experience as a camper or as a staff member, but I seem to remember that one of the best night activities of the year was the night after visiting day. I also seem to remember that all staff members are on-duty that same night; no days-off are allowed. I seem to recall that the reason for both of these rules. On the night after visiting day, the campers are most homesick. Just when they were getting acclimated to life in camp, their parents and siblings came, brought snacks, a picnic, pictures, whatever, and then... they left. The campers are left crying and the counselors are left to pick up the pieces.
Some of my family and some of my wife's family came to visit us in Israel for Pesach from America. We had a wonderful time catching up and, with a beautiful seder and tiyulim, Pesach could not have been better.
And then they left.
I didn't expect to feel this way, but we're now in the night-after-visiting-day mode: some of my kids (many of their cousins spent two weeks with them here; they have no, close relatives here) were crying last night and saying, "Why are we in Israel?" It broke our hearts. My wife and I as well were "down" also. Today too.
It seems that life in Israel for people like us is a series of hello's and goodbyes. The following scene happened in our family – and I expect not a few other families in Israel – a few times this Pesach and throughout the year: we go to the airport (during school? dinnertime? bath time?), wait anxiously, the relatives come out, we scream, we laugh, we hug, the kids are a bit shy in the beginning (a little embarrassing, no? Shy with their own cousins?) , then they get used to each other, have a great time, then back to the airport to say goodbye, the kids are a bit shy to hug their cousin or their grandmother (a little embarrassing, no? Can't hug their own cousins? Their own grandmother?), and off they go and back we go to home to work to school to homework, to talking on the phone with close relatives who do not seem that close anymore.
I'm sure these strong, melancholy feelings will pass. They always do. But it's tough anyway.
Advice to potential Olim: I warned you to skip this post. If you didn't, at least do yourself the favor and read some of the positive posts on this blog too. Some recommendations from recent posts: here, here, here, or here.
Maybe I should read those posts again too.
I don't have a lot of summer camp experience as a camper or as a staff member, but I seem to remember that one of the best night activities of the year was the night after visiting day. I also seem to remember that all staff members are on-duty that same night; no days-off are allowed. I seem to recall that the reason for both of these rules. On the night after visiting day, the campers are most homesick. Just when they were getting acclimated to life in camp, their parents and siblings came, brought snacks, a picnic, pictures, whatever, and then... they left. The campers are left crying and the counselors are left to pick up the pieces.
Some of my family and some of my wife's family came to visit us in Israel for Pesach from America. We had a wonderful time catching up and, with a beautiful seder and tiyulim, Pesach could not have been better.
And then they left.
I didn't expect to feel this way, but we're now in the night-after-visiting-day mode: some of my kids (many of their cousins spent two weeks with them here; they have no, close relatives here) were crying last night and saying, "Why are we in Israel?" It broke our hearts. My wife and I as well were "down" also. Today too.
It seems that life in Israel for people like us is a series of hello's and goodbyes. The following scene happened in our family – and I expect not a few other families in Israel – a few times this Pesach and throughout the year: we go to the airport (during school? dinnertime? bath time?), wait anxiously, the relatives come out, we scream, we laugh, we hug, the kids are a bit shy in the beginning (a little embarrassing, no? Shy with their own cousins?) , then they get used to each other, have a great time, then back to the airport to say goodbye, the kids are a bit shy to hug their cousin or their grandmother (a little embarrassing, no? Can't hug their own cousins? Their own grandmother?), and off they go and back we go to home to work to school to homework, to talking on the phone with close relatives who do not seem that close anymore.
I'm sure these strong, melancholy feelings will pass. They always do. But it's tough anyway.
Advice to potential Olim: I warned you to skip this post. If you didn't, at least do yourself the favor and read some of the positive posts on this blog too. Some recommendations from recent posts: here, here, here, or here.
Maybe I should read those posts again too.
posted by T.Y.I.I. at
Monday, April 24, 2006
1 Comments:
I must say that you are an honest man. Most people, the vast majority, pick sides and then don't ever admit the veracity of the other side. The Gemorah, if I recall correctly, has a thing sometimes where one rabbi says something and it doesn't seem to fit for him. Then they explain that he was talking to another rabbi, and talking from the perspective of that other rabbi. This happens in the context of an argument. And if you think about it, it's amazing. They would think inside the head of the person arguing the other side. And it seems to me Moreh Derech that you have this trait and I think that's quite a rare and admirable quality. You made aliya, but you don't only talk about it with starry eyed hype. The image of visiting day is strong and real. Thanks for sharing it. But remember too that kids usually come to love camp...
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