Friends. For whatever reason this entry came to mind today. It is one of my favorites. Thought I'd throw it out there again for anyone who might have missed it.
June,
2014
Dear Friends and Family:
A few weeks ago I had the good fortune to be invited to
Kansas City where long-time Beth Torah Director of education and long-time
G.U.C.I. faculty member Marcia Rittmaster was retiring. I was to be one of the speakers at the
Shabbat service honoring her. It was a
great evening for a wonderful person.
There were many current and former campers as well as parents of former
campers present. I was a surprise guest
so many wanted to talk to me about camp, retirement, Jewish education etc. But what usually happens at events like this
is that the time of the informal dinner buffet also becomes prime schmooze
time. I talked away the dinner and never
got to the food. (More about that in a
minute). I’m fortunate that people
associate me with those positive Jewish experiences their children had at
camp. So the schmooze/camp talk
flowed…and I loved it.
After the formal
Shabbat service, the congregation had set up an artificial campfire in the
lobby. Kids and adults sat around the
“fire” while Charlene Gubitz led a song session. In the middle I told a story. Then more songs. As the song session was just beginning to
wind down a girl, maybe fourteen years old, came up to me to tell me how much
she loved camp and that she wanted to, someday, be a counselor and help other
kids love camp. Then, with a bit of an
embarrassed smile she said, “But, it’s not G.U.C.I. I go to camp Schwayder with my cousins from
Denver.” I think she expected me to say
something like…too bad you didn’t come to our camp. I didn't.
Our conversation went like this:
Ron: “Is that a Jewish camp where Jewish kids sing Jewish
songs, say Jewish prayers, and have a wonderful time with each other?” (I knew that it was that kind of camp)
Camper: “Yes, that’s
why I love it.”
Ron: “Well, if you
can help other kids love being Jewish with their camp friends, you will be
doing something great for the Jewish world.”
She looked at me for a second, I guess surprised by my
comment, and then gave me a great hug.
We finished the song session together and she was gone. I didn't even get her name.
So I walked out to my car after the whole shebang and realized that I was famished. I never got to the buffet
or to the Oneg food after the service.
On the way back to the hotel I spotted a small pizza place called,
“Mafia Pizza.” I loved the name and I
stopped. I half expected to see pictures
of Lucky Luciano, Al Capone, or at least Marlon Brando on the walls. But quite the contrary, greeting me at the door
was a very Middle Eastern looking gentleman who shook my hand and introduced
himself as the owner, Mohammed. I kiddingly asked if Mohammed was an Italian
name. He joked back telling me that it
was not, that he was from Ramle in Palestine, but that he knew a few
Italians. That started us off. When I told him that I had been to Ramle and
had lived for a few years in Jerusalem he invited me to sit and have a lemonade
with him. I ordered a cheese pizza to go
and sat down.
Enter Mohammed’s cousin, who sits with us. We talked about Israel (they were quite
complimentary as to Israel’s’ great accomplishments in building the country and
quite angry with their fellow Palestinian leaders for not following suit),
Chicago, where they had lived for several years, Jerusalem, the West Bank,
Green line, but all in a very friendly way (this was before they knew I was a
Jew). I took a chance when they asked
what I had studied in Jerusalem and told them that I was a rabbi. Just as we were getting into what that was
all about my pizza arrived and I got up to pay and leave.
“No.” Mohammed said,
“You can’t pay.
“Come on,” I replied, “You already treated me to a lemonade,
I’m paying.”
“No! I can’t charge
you. You’re my cousin. We’re family.”
He gave me hug (my second of the night) and handed me the
pizza. I was a bit stunned to find out
that I was actually a family member of the Mafia…the Islamic, Kansas City
branch of the family. What could I
do? He made me an offer I couldn’t
refuse…kinship.
It was an interesting trip to Kansas City last month.
Until next time… Arivederci.
Ciao Bambinos. And Salaam
Aleykem.
Ron
