Shalom Gilboa!
It rarely happens that a parent gets to spend a few hours with us during a regular day at camp. This winter, Sara's dad had to pick her up for a Bat-Mitzvah, and got to see Gilboa in action. I asked him to write about what he saw, and here it is:
My friend Ron and I set out from West LA on Friday morning around 7:15 for Angelus Oaks. We feared the worst--a long, traffic-ridden, snow-filled, chains-on-tires drive that would try my patience and technical skills. What a pleasant surprise it was then when two hours and fifteen minutes later--after an effortless, chain-free ride-- we pulled into a parking spot at Alpine Meadows, where the Gilboa winter game was located. Our mission was to pick up my daughter, Sara, and return before Shabbat to join in the bat-mitzvah of a dear family friend.
The even greater surprise was what we discovered when we walked into the chadar ochel (dining hall). The room was bursting with energy, enthusiasm, and above all, fun. I've been hearing for almost thirty years from my wife, a second-generation Habonimnik (Workshop 29), about how special and intense the fun is at Habonim camp. But I had never really seen it up close. In fact, our daughter Sara was having so much fun at winter camp that part of her really wanted to stay rather than come home. As a compromise, we hung around for another hour during which time we got a chance to see what was going on.
As I reflected on it on the drive back, there were three aspects of the particular kind of fun at Habonim that seem unique. First, Habonim is a youth movement, where youth lead youth. How rare is it in our day and age, of constantly hovering Helicopter Parents, to have kids leading, learning from, and living with other kids! It was beautiful to see high-school age madrichim (counselors) interacting so naturally and playfully with their chanichim (campers).
Second, kids, and especially the teenagers there, were remarkably free of inhibitions. We happened to show up on a regular old Friday morning for breakfast, and what we witnessed was a series of spontaneous, goofy, and hilarious skits, songs, and chants that engaged everyone in camp, from the youngest to the oldest. No social tension, no awkwardness, no exclusion. We were left to ask ourselves: does this happen every day, at every meal? Third, there seemed to be a glorious lack of concern about structured time. In this day and age, kids often need their own personal assistants to arrange their schedules. But not here. Breakfast slowly stretched into hitamlut boker, a time for physical exercise, but actually an opportunity to bust out the dancing--at 10am in morning! Kids young and old joined in, gleefully and, again, without inhibition. After about a half-hour of dancing and hanging out, we packed up Sara and headed back home. She was sad to leave, but proud to have made new friends, learned new songs and games, and been part of the special experience that her mother has spoken of so often and with such fondness. It was incredible to see first-hand.
David Myers (father of Sara Stolzenberg-Myers, husband of Nomi Stolzenberg).
It rarely happens that a parent gets to spend a few hours with us during a regular day at camp. This winter, Sara's dad had to pick her up for a Bat-Mitzvah, and got to see Gilboa in action. I asked him to write about what he saw, and here it is:
My friend Ron and I set out from West LA on Friday morning around 7:15 for Angelus Oaks. We feared the worst--a long, traffic-ridden, snow-filled, chains-on-tires drive that would try my patience and technical skills. What a pleasant surprise it was then when two hours and fifteen minutes later--after an effortless, chain-free ride-- we pulled into a parking spot at Alpine Meadows, where the Gilboa winter game was located. Our mission was to pick up my daughter, Sara, and return before Shabbat to join in the bat-mitzvah of a dear family friend.
The even greater surprise was what we discovered when we walked into the chadar ochel (dining hall). The room was bursting with energy, enthusiasm, and above all, fun. I've been hearing for almost thirty years from my wife, a second-generation Habonimnik (Workshop 29), about how special and intense the fun is at Habonim camp. But I had never really seen it up close. In fact, our daughter Sara was having so much fun at winter camp that part of her really wanted to stay rather than come home. As a compromise, we hung around for another hour during which time we got a chance to see what was going on.
As I reflected on it on the drive back, there were three aspects of the particular kind of fun at Habonim that seem unique. First, Habonim is a youth movement, where youth lead youth. How rare is it in our day and age, of constantly hovering Helicopter Parents, to have kids leading, learning from, and living with other kids! It was beautiful to see high-school age madrichim (counselors) interacting so naturally and playfully with their chanichim (campers).
Second, kids, and especially the teenagers there, were remarkably free of inhibitions. We happened to show up on a regular old Friday morning for breakfast, and what we witnessed was a series of spontaneous, goofy, and hilarious skits, songs, and chants that engaged everyone in camp, from the youngest to the oldest. No social tension, no awkwardness, no exclusion. We were left to ask ourselves: does this happen every day, at every meal? Third, there seemed to be a glorious lack of concern about structured time. In this day and age, kids often need their own personal assistants to arrange their schedules. But not here. Breakfast slowly stretched into hitamlut boker, a time for physical exercise, but actually an opportunity to bust out the dancing--at 10am in morning! Kids young and old joined in, gleefully and, again, without inhibition. After about a half-hour of dancing and hanging out, we packed up Sara and headed back home. She was sad to leave, but proud to have made new friends, learned new songs and games, and been part of the special experience that her mother has spoken of so often and with such fondness. It was incredible to see first-hand.
David Myers (father of Sara Stolzenberg-Myers, husband of Nomi Stolzenberg).
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