. . . “When it’s freezing outside, I picture myself at Henry S. Jacobs Camp in 100 degree heat, walking up the hill to kabbalat
Shabbat, sweating through my white clothes, and think it could definitely be worse.”
My mouth dropped. I was instantly transported to Utica, Mississippi, dripping with sweat, climbing a hill that was in reality a slight incline, but in Mississippi humidity may as well have been Masada. Acoustic guitar played “Lo Yisa Goy“. I knew exactly how uncomfortable/amazing/sweaty/magical/unforgettable the feeling was.
So much for thinking I wouldn’t have anything in common with this Minnesota mayor (Shep Harris). We had been to the same Jewish camp, and anyone who has been to camp knows that’s a bond that transcends generations. Even though we missed each other at camp by about 10 years, we knew the same songs, the same people, and could trace the history of camp directors and Lake Gary (once believed to house snakes and a giant fish/monster sea creature named Bertha, it now has a water slide and serves as a mikveh).
Continue reading: New Jew in Town: Reminiscing with the Mayor