It's Almost June And I Haven't Exploded Yet

As long as I can remember and ever since I started going, waiting for my summer camp, Goldman Union Camp Institute (a.k.a GUCI, although I’ve learned to give this acronym LAST), to start was and is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I guess you could say I’m really good at it, since I have no choice in the waiting.  “Live eleven months for one,” as we say. Nowadays it’s a lot easier to make it to camp and still be in touch with everyone because of technology (no more frantic catching up on an entire year of someone’s life). I can finally talk with my cabinmates -- we have a group chat and talk every day, it’s like family dinner. We cover everything; what’s happening in their lives, what’s happening in mine, ideas for camp next year (we’re bringing a mini cactus as our mascot and my friend’s bringing her matching cactus onesie), and the obligatory “songleader so and so from GUCI came to my synagogue today!” whereupon I get lowkey jealous.

There’s also plenty of videos GUCI online (including that hour long video of Shabbat song session that I watch way too much), and I have memory boxes full of letters from my parents and my cabinmates’ parents (yes that’s a thing occasionally), our cabin essays from when we led prayer services, those cheesy mystic ballroom dance face masks, toothbrush bracelets, etc. Basically as time went on there’s a lot more to remember to camp by and it’s gotten exponentially easier to exist until June 14.

But I almost feel like I’m cheating at the waiting game since I have so much memorabilia. I can talk with my friends anytime, and I honestly don’t have a choice in the waiting. That said, it’s not like a skill isn’t proved unless it can be done blindfolded after being in solitary confinement for 3 days (In 1st grade someone told me that’s what I had to do to become a piano master). There’s also many things from GUCI that I can’t recreate, like the lifestyle and the entire community and the constant guitar music.

I also remember how waiting wasn’t always so easy. When I was younger, I couldn’t keep in touch with people as well since I didn’t have a cell phone or Facebook (and the first year I got my phone, I couldn’t remember my number to give to anyone…...classic). I remember crying in the middle of December because it had been so UNBELIEVABLY LONG already and there were so many months between myself and June.

Yet no matter how badly I wanted GUCI to  start, I couldn’t speed up time right? Wrong. As i’ve gotten older time has seemed to speed up a LOT, to the point where junior year was a blur and I can’t believe it’s spring already. I was shocked when it became September.  I don’t know why this perspective shift is happening to me so suddenly but it’s really freaking me out. Especially because I’m finally starting to understand that super depressing song (Which we also sing at camp) which I hate and love, The Circle Game.

Overall, I believe I’m great at waiting for things I have no choice about -- a wonderful skill right?! Funny how many other people seem to have this skill too! Either way, I’m pretty proud that I didn’t spontaneously combust one of those winters while looking through our cabin photos, and this year there’s only three months left.

The Telltale Pocket

We were walking out of Borders after window shopping when I saw it -- the most beautiful bookmark in the world. It was shiny and in 3 dimensions. When I moved my head, the shiny fish swam with and at me. My six year old self was filled with awe, and a need to show this bookmark to everyone I knew. I turned around. “Mom, can we get that bookmark? The fish one? It’s only $2.50.” “No, we don’t need it and we’ll be late to the movie.”

I was torn. I wanted that bookmark so badly, no, I convinced myself I needed it. At that moment it was (next to The Lion King) the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen. Without thinking things through at all I made my decision. I darted towards the circular shelf with the bookmarks and pulled the fish one into my pocket. For a moment I felt triumph; no one had noticed. But then, immediately, I was crushed with guilt. To this day I don’t think I’ve ever felt so guilty as I did then. It was like I had betrayed everyone I ever knew. Even people I didn’t know, like Moses, who was crying and holding out the Ten Commandments we learned about in Hebrew School last week. But in my mind it was too late; I had committed a crime, and wretched criminal that I was, I had to stick with my decision and save what remained of my honor.

I somehow left the store without any alarms going off, and we went to the movie and no one was the wiser. Or so I thought. Apparently I was clutching the fish bookmark in my pocket with all my strength and as conspicuously as possible. My mother asked me several times what I was holding, but I just said “Nothing” or “I just like my hands in my pockets” (even though the other one was swinging by my side). I honestly don’t remember the movie at all; I was sweating, waiting for a lightning bolt from somewhere, and clutching the bookmark as though my life depended on it. “Thou shalt not steal” kept running through my mind, and I wanted to fix it and pretend this never happened, but how could I get back to Borders? Apparently I was acting weird throughout the movie, and mom noticed. When we left she demanded to see what was in my pocket. I literally thought I was going to die right then and there.

Instead she saw the fish bookmark, realized what I had done, and talked with me seriously about how stealing was wrong and I should never do it again. I found this far worse than yelling and a punishment, because I felt like I had let down my mom and our entire family honor and reputation (I had a tendency to blow things way out of proportion when I was younger). My punishment was to walk back into Borders and return the bookmark to the store and apologize to the clerk. I remember nothing of the return because I think I literally repressed the memory. It was only later that my mom told me she and my dad laughed about this event for hours. My mom was a prosecutor for ten years, and she said I looked guiltier than any of the murderers she’d convicted.

While my career as a professional thief was over, I had learned valuable lessons beyond the fact that I should never go into the intelligence services. The experience gave me something concrete to base my moral compass on, and really hammered home how stealing was wrong, even when “It’s only $2.50” and no one notices.  All in all, it was just really embarrassing and I’m glad it’s over.