Staff Returning to Camp

                                                                                        
                                                                                          
                                                                                    September, 1996


Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


The last staff letter I wrote to you was bursting with the anticipation of a
summer to be.  Now I write to you from the quiet of my office during the lull
of time between the summer that was and the Rosh Ha Shannah that is almost. 
Thoughts of this past summer will warm me long into the winter; it was that
good.  The sparks that illuminated our Goldman Union Camp flame this summer
came from many directions.  They joined and burned brightly.  From our youngest
Garin campers (third and fourth graders) overcoming homesickness and leading
the community in beautiful Friday evening Shabbat T'fillot; to a rowdy and
rambunctious Avodah unit painting the camp truck at 2:00 A.M., camp shined a
radiant, youthful, Jewish light.   It was a summer of beginnings and renewals. 
We welcomed many new staff members, including six great new Israeli friends. 
And we welcomed back several staff family members who returned to camp after
being away for years.  Julie Waterman (whose homecoming actually started in
'95), Judy Abramson, and Danny Nichols came home to G.U.C.I. this summer.  They
not only added their talents, enthusiasm, and energy to our collective pool,
they gave much more, a sense of G.U.C.I. history to our staff.  In addition, a
visit from Ian Silver, a ten year Avodah reunion led by Linda Ross, drop-in
visits by Jim Bennett, Danny and Jason Gottlieb, faculty stints by Sandford
Kopnick, Lee Freedman, and Mark Glickman, and Adam Morris' return engagement as
a unit head, this time in Garin, were constant reminders of the rich heritage
our staff inherited here at Goldman Camp.  This summer's staff stood the test
of time and took its own place in our camp's history.  I am proud to be a part
of it.

There were many personal lights shining this summer as well.  I cannot really
express how meaningful it was for me to work with my sons Jeremy and Michael,
together on our Leadership Staff.  I admit to some (perhaps more than a few)
emotional moments watching them work with their kids and fellow staff members. 
I was proud of their individual struggles to achieve all that we hold dear in
our thoughts and feelings of camp.  As the Camp Director, I loved working with
Mark Covitz and this summer's Leadership Staff.  But as a Camp Director who is
also a father, it was a special gift to be given a summer like this with my
boys. 

I learned a lot this summer.  A fellow named Mike Melon, an H.U.C. student, 
came by for a few weeks to learn about camp.  I think he did that, but in turn,
taught me a thing or two about being open and inviting to kids.  I watched him
walk into an established camp society, toward the end of the summer, and
immediately find his place among the staff, Leadership staff, and campers. 
Important lessons.

And then there was Danny Nichols who taught us how to sing.  He brought back to
G.U.C.I. a renewed spirit and emotional energy which, I believe, will be with
us for years to come.  He really linked the best of our camp's past to a
renewed spirituality of today and had a profound affect on us all.  Danny wrote
a kind of rockin' tune to the prayer we use to begin each day, "Baruch Atah
Adonai Elohaynu Melech Ha Olam, Sh'Natan Lanu Hisdamnut Letaken Et Ha Olam. 
Blessed are you Adonai our God, King of the universe, for giving us an
opportunity to make this a better world."  So many bright, shining, and smiling
camper faces told me that we had done just that; this summer, here in
Zionsville.

I hope that 5757 brings you many bright lights and smiling faces.

Ron

Standing on the Teachings of Those Who Came Before

                                                                                                                         May, 1996


Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


It's May.  The sounds of racing motors at the Speedway are always a sure sign
that camp is about to commence.  As we are about to, once again, embark on the
grand challenge here in Zionsville, my mind  wanders into the misty memories of
camping's past.  To me, it is important to acknowledge how our past helps shape
our present, and, in turn, our future.  Goldman Union Camp Institute is built
upon the foundation of years and years of camp staffs, rabbis, educators, and
directors.  Their ideas and energies paved the way for G.U.C.I. 1996.  Their
passions led us to this point, we take over from here.

It is impossible for me to psych myself up for what lies ahead without thinking
of those who taught me the joys of Judaism and camp as I was growing up.  My
counselors at Union Institute in Wisconsin, the Levys, Merle Singer, my rabbis,
Lorge, Wolf, Mahrer, my unit heads, Jerry Litsky, Gene Levy, my director, Irv
Kaplan, all stand with me as I begin again to build what will be our camp
community this summer.  So do the hundreds, perhaps thousands of campers and
counselors from those fourteen years up north and twenty-two down here. 

 When I begin to open the pool this spring, Jim Bennett and Mike Weinberg will be
minding the filters with me. 

Joe Eiduson, Linda Ross, Marty Zinko, Joel Block, Amy Wolf, Jon Stein, Andrea Lerner, Bruce Lustig, Danny Gottleib, Mark Lerner, and Shirley Idelson will be driving the truck along with all the others who have painted and swept out the Oolam, mopped the cabins, carried the canoes,
helped plan orientation. 

When I first look out at Eagle Creek lake this summer, I'll think of Brad Lander arguing, pushing me to implement a canoeing program. 

As we count tents for Anaf's Kesher program I'll remember Mark
Glickman, out with 100 Anafers at Morgan-Monroe in a thunderstorm. 

When we begin talking about counseloring I'll remember the lessons Simcha Bob and
Sandford Kopnick taught the counselors in their day. 

When our Program Director, Mark Covitz and I began planning orientation, Steve Goodman, Mike Weinberg, Jim Bennett, Lee Freedman, Rachel Hertzman, Sandford Kopnick, Josh
Bennett, Mike Moskowitz, and Jay Moses were sitting on the floor in my office
with us, if only in spirit. 

 I gain a tremendous sense of confidence and strength at the thought of so much creative energy collected over the years, adding to our own strengths, propelling us into another camp season.  I can only imagine how many images of former songleaders will appear (if only in my
mind), strumming their guitars in the shadows of the chadar during Shabbat song
sessions.


We share a fine heritage, the history of our people and the history of those
who taught it to us.  But now comes the time to roll up the sleeves and get to
it.  Now we take our place in the lineage of Jewish communities, of camp
staffs, of the creators of the history of Goldman Union Camp Institute.  This
will be our summer.  We will build it.  I am sure that we will uphold the high
standards set for us by our rabbis, program directors, and counselors of the
past.  In doing so we add our own creativity and passion to the collective
pool.  The spirit of the community we create this summer will build the
future.  It seems only natural to think that years from now some unit head will
reflect back on what we may have given him/her this summer; that someone will
conjure up a misty memory of a warm Jewish feeling received at G.U.C.I during
the summer of 1996.  It is our turn.  This is our challenge.  Thank God for the
opportunity.
Ron

Thanks to Staff

        
                                                                                                                     December 1995


Dear GUCI Staff (As Count Basie said, “One more time…”):


In my travels around our regions and wherever I encounter one or more of the 500 alumni now receiving these staff letters, I am always impressed with the tremendously warm feelings that we have for our camp and the friends you’ve made during your summers here.  Personally, I have always felt that even one summer here as a staff member cements a connection that most other experiences never approach.  I feel a very special relationship with people who have shared that staff struggle and programmatic and personal victory we realize during the course of each summer at Goldman Union Camp.

The struggles and ultimate growth in character and knowledge and commitment continue for our staff members, summer after summer.  We reap the rewards today, for the gifts former counselors and unit heads gave so abundantly to their campers in the past.  How so?  As plans take shape for our Leadership (formerly Top Deck) Staff for 1996, it is heartwarming to report that our Shoresh, Gezah, Anaf, Camp K’ton and Avodah Unit Heads, along with our Program Director, all began their involvement here as either Shoresh or Gezah campers.  Perhaps they were in your cabin, or Chug, or swim class somewhere along the way.  Now these former campers take over the helm.  They will be making it all happen for the next generation of campers/staff/leadership staff.

We need your financial support to maintain this Jewish continuity here at our camp.  This winter we begin a project to rebuild the rooms and apartment over the Beit Am.  The new living quarters will house Unit Heads and Specialists.  The old rooms and apartment are not usable now, and we need the space desperately.  This $25,000 project would just about be covered if each of sent in a $50.00 check.  Your contribution, more or less than the $50.00 I mentioned, will be greatly appreciated.  If the GUCI Staff Letters mean anything at all to you, please help us with this most important project.

Thanks,

Ron

"So, How Was the Summer?"

                                                                                                    

                                                                                          September, 1993


Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


I often wonder what people expect me to say when they ask, "So, how was the
summer?"  Do they really expect me to answer that?  The fact is, I can hardly
remember what the summer was like.  I know that camp was full, and that it
rained for the first five weeks of the summer.  That everyone at camp worked
incredibly hard and that spirit was high.  That the summer came and went in a
blur (as I get older, they seem to get blurrier and blurrier).  Kids went to
the emergency room, kids had fun, kids learned, kids made friends, some grew up
a lot, some a little, some fell in love, some didn't.  It was a summer of life,
intense life.

We were touched by two profound tragedies this summer.  Five of our staff
members left camp to attend a fraternity brother's funeral in St. Louis.  I
believe it must have been like an episode of "The Twilight Zone" for them to
leave camp, participate in such a difficult and emotionally draining
experience, and then to return to camp and assume the posture of counselor or
unit head.  I am often surprised at the strength and maturity of our staff.

Two days after OVFTY Institute ended, we received the news of Josh Lerner's
death.  As you may know, Josh was one of our kids; camper, Avodahnick, staff
member.  Even though we knew it was coming, it was crushing news.  The events
of the summer so paled in comparison to the magnitude of these tragedies, that
it is hard for me to recall much of what happened prior to going to Chicago for
Josh's funeral.  I will tell you this though, about thirty camp staff people
came to the funeral.  It was a completely gut-wrenching experience.  But
watching our staff comfort each other, and care for each other, filled me with
a sense of pride.  I was proud of them, and, to be honest, I was proud of the
work we are doing.  Their love for each other told the story of camp.  At the
most difficult of times, they were the best that a family can be; a Jewish
family, sometimes at each other's throats, but never-the-less there for each
other when the chips are down.  Through the tears, it was a beautiful thing to
see.

So, that's how the summer was.  And now we turn to 1994/5754.  I wish you all
the best for a Shannah Tova.  How has the year started?  The Bears are 0 and 2;
things can only get better.

Ron

Tempering Sadness

                                                                                              February, 1993


Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


Sometimes, in the midst of saddness, comes a blessing.  Early this morning, I
was distracted from my grumbling at a particularly miserable shower of snow and
sleet and ice, by the loud chirping of a beautiful female cardinal, perched in
our front yard tree.  She just sat in all of that cold and wet and sang her
heart out.  I was startled by her beautiful song.

Last month in Israel, on a rainy and cold afternoon, 45 professional U.A.H.C.
Youth Directors and I sat silently in a meeting room at Jerusalem's Yad V'Shem
Holacaust Memorial mezmorized by the words of a Survivor.  I venture to say
that every one of us had done "Shoah" programs in our camps and regions; and
that we had all brought in Holacaust Survivors to speak to our kids, probably
more than once.  We all knew the stories, had seen the films, understood the
history, etc.  But that afternoon it was different.  The woman who sat before
us spoke the unspeakable in a clear and unavoidable voice.  We were changed by
what we heard, turned inside-out emotionally.  Her voice, her words, her horror
will be with me.  As her 90 minutes came to an end, I wondered how the group
would respond.  Most in the group were younger than me; enthusiastic, creative,
sometimes sarcastic people.  How should such a group respond to this difficult
experience?  Any response seemed inappropriate.  I was touched by the fact
that, without any discussion or message, without any concensesus, we responded
in unison with complete silence.  We rose and silently left the room.  We
walked through the gardens outside individually and in small groups, but all in
silence.  Later, on the bus we returned to ourselves, to our group.  Everything
was the same, but each of us was a little different.

Sometime after returning to the States I received the devestating news that one
of my comnfirmation class students had been killed in an automobile accident. 
She was 14 years old.  I went to her funeral.  The next week I spoke to the
class about the fragility of life and the ideas in the book, "When Bad Things
Happen To Good People." 

So, you see, there have been some black clouds in the past few weeks.  But
every once-in-a-while you hear a bird, out in the sleet, singing sweetly, and
it makes you smile.  Two weeks ago, I was invited down to Bloomington, Indiana
to speak at Erev Shabbat services at the Reform synagogue.  We have many staff
and former staff members studying at Indiana University (including one very
special red head who shares my name, my finances, and my love).  When Yael
Splansky and David Burkman found out that I was coming down,they arranged a
little staff get-together at Yael's place after Temple.  I was happy to see
that about 25 of our kids showed up for services.  Their spirit and enthusiasm
had an immediate affect on the small congregation.  During the slide show after
services there were howls of laughter and constant chatter as these counselors
saw themselves and their campers and other friends on the screen.  You could
hardly hear the soundtrack.  I'm sure that presentation didn't bring in one new
camper, but it certainly was fun.
                                 
Afterwords, we all met at Yael's house for coffe and cake.  That's when the
magic happened.  As I look back on the evening it seems to me that were three
distinct segments to this unplanned and informal event.  At first we all sat in
the living room and swapped favorite, funny camp stories.  We heard about being
busted by Shmira, we laughed at unusual-camper tales, camp jokes, Machon
meetings, and on and on.  Next, we shifted gears and moved into the camp Jewish
geography segment of the evening.  People asked me about their former Unit
Heads and other long lost staff.  Everyone wanted to know how Marc Lerner was
doing in his new job, where Shirley Idelson had gone, had I heard from Arie
Cohen, Susie Moskiowitz, Mark Glickman, Sandford Kopnick, etc.  With the
mention of each name came another camp story.  They were funny and warm and
family-like.

Finally, late in the evening, after some staff had left, someone asked me about
my recent trip to Israel.  We began a lenghty discussion of Israel and her
current problems along with other Jewish issues.  We spoke of the problems of
secular vs. orthodoxy in Israel, of tradition vs. modernity in Reform
synagogues, of the status of Reform Judaism in Israel and the success of our
own U.A.H.C. Youth Division there, of the problems faced by female rabbis.  I
couldn't have planned a better Shiur if I had wanted to.  The discussion was
lively, the kids were interested, and I left feeling uplifted.  I walked into
Yael's place at 10:00 p.m. that night and left at 1:30 a.m. wondering where the
three and a half hours had flown to.  Those kids gave me a boost just when I
neded it the most.

This morning, when that cardinal caught my attention, I thought of that evening
with my staff.  Sometimes in the midst of saddness comes a blessing.

Ron

Camp is Not Enough

                          
                                                                                       

                                                                                  September, 1992

Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


I want to tell you all something that you already know.  This camp thing of
ours, it's not enough.  That may sound funny coming from me.  Don't get me
wrong, there is no one more committed to what we do here at camp, its long
range effects etc., than I am.  But I hear from so many of our staff people
that camp is their place to be Jewish, or that camp's the only place they
really feel Jewish, or like that.  Well I'm going on record here saying that
this is just not enough.

For many years I have lived my life from one summer to the next.  When I was a
college student I literally could not wait for each successive summer.  One
would end, and I would already be anticipating the next.  What about my Jewish
life between summers?  It was practically non-existent.  I didn't participate
in any Hillel activities, hardly ever showed my face at services or any other
Jewish functions.   Participating in family holiday celebrations, when I found
myself home from school, was about the extent of my Jewish life.  Now that I
think back on that time, I realize how Jewishly empty it was.  Those years
could have been much richer if I would have been involved more.   Also, think
about the things we teach our campers here at camp.  How can any of us feel
other than hypocritical if we put on our Jewish faces while we're at camp, 
play that part in front of our campers and fellow staff members, and then
remove the face when we leave in August?  No!  It is simply not enough.  If we
really love camp, if it is not just a bunch of words, then we are compelled to
live out camp's teachings throughout our lives.  That, to me, means reaching
out to others, joining the Jewish community, affiliating, teaching, joining in
prayer and celebration, social action, etc.  Do something, one thing that
ignites the fire you felt at camp.  Remember the difference you made in someone
else's life at camp?  Do the same thing for yourself.  That is the only way to
make camp real and not some sort of fantasy.

When I was a senior in college, for some reason I couldn't get home for
Pesach.  A couple of friends and I decided to do our own Seder.  We ended up
with 18 people, about half of them non-Jews, all pitching in with the cooking,
then the reading of the service, the explanations of the symbols, teaching the
songs.  It was a grand night.  One that I will never forget.  More experiences
like that would have made my college days more fulfilling, but I didn't see it
then.

The High Holidays are about to descend upon us.  Don't let them drift by
unnoticed.  It really is an important and emotional time for Jews everywhere. 
Be true to the spirit of camp.  Join the rest of the Jewish world as we marvel
at the passage of time, and once again dedicate our lives to all that is
honorable and good.  I bet it will make you feel good.  And it will make our
summer words ring true.

I wish you all a Shannah Tova U'Mitukah, a good and sweet year.  Happy 5753.

Ron

Brotherhood Work Weekend

                                                                                                           May, 1991


Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


I had the opportunity, last week, to participate in a very special Havdalah
service.  Havdalah, along with the closing (Ne'elah) service on Yom Kippur have
always been my favorite services.  Last Shabbat was special.  Last Shabbat was
the brotherhood work weekend here at camp.  I'm sure that most of you have
never heard of this event.  Twelve years ago brotherhood members from our
Reform congregation in Toledo, Ohio asked me how they could help the camp.  It
seemed that they didn't have the budget to contribute financially to G.U.C.I.,
but were willing to contribute in other ways.  We came up with the idea of a
brotherhood work weekend.  It's really quite simple; a dozen or so members of
the Todedo brotherhood (now joined by some Indianapolis, Cincinnati, and Terre
Haute brotherhood members) come to camp on a Thursday night one weekend each
Spring, and work their asses off doing anything I ask them to do until Sunday
afternoon.  I'm talking electrical work, carpentry, landscaping, painting,
cutting wood, etc. etc.  Some of the men are quite skilled.  Others, like me,
carry the wood, shovel the gravel, and push the paint brushes.  If you have
been to camp in the last decade, you've seen their work: a new roof on the Beit
Am, new steps carved into the hill on the path to the boys' area, our soccer
goals, The lighting system in the Oolam, shelves and cubbies in each of the
cabins, benches in the Chadar Ochel, roof on the athletic shed, and many other
projects including this year's, a magnificent new deck/porch on our newly
remodled Avodah bulding. 

One of the special moments during each of the work weekends has been our unique
Havdalah service.  As we all know, Havdalah demarks the end of the day of rest
and the beginning of the work week.  But, on these weekends we work harder than
we do during our usual work week.  Havdalah might seem strange under these
circumstances.  The reality is, however, that the Havdalah service is very 
appropriate, because the type of work we are doing is unique, almost sacred. 
The brotherhood members understand that their labors are a Mitzvah; that they
are doing their part to make camp better for all of our kids.  The brotherhood
work weekend Havdalah is a religious thank you for the opportunity to be
together and to perform such an important Mitzvah.  Their spirit matches that
of our summer staff, and as such its uplifting to work with these men.

In just a few weeks our Unit Heads, specialists, counselors, Machonickim, and
Avodahnickim will gather to once again create our special kind of summer camp. 
In much the same way as that of the brotherhood members, our work will be
unique.  We know it will not be easy.  But each Shabbat we will remark at how
quickly our time together at camp is passing, and at Havdalah most of us will
give thanks for the opportunity given us to be together and do this good work.
Ron

Ordination and a Wedding

                                                                                                               May, 1990


Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


I hadn't planned on writing you again until next fall, what with the onset of
the summer, preparations, anxieties, et al; but here I go again.  I want to
relate to you a mixed bag of intense emotions I'm feeling at this moment, all
derived in different ways from connections to our camp.

I'm writing to you from an United Airlines jet, 39,000 feet in the air,
westbound to L.A.  I am not only enroute to officiate at the wedding of one of
our staff members of many years, a kid working maintenance (pre-Avodah) when I
walked in sixteen years ago, who is presently a Reform Jewish Educator; but
only a few hours ago I watched the Rabbinic Ordination of two other G.U.C.I.
staff alunmni in Cincinnati.  One of these "New Rabbis" came to our camp as an
Anaf camper, won the lead in Project that session, and stuck around for eleven
more summers.  So I find myself in a unique emotional state, somewhere between
an ordination and a wedding, somewhere between the childhoods and adulthoods of
people with whom I've lived, laughed, worked, and played these many years at
camp...and beyond.  I feel as though I am watching Judaism grow up before my
very eyes, and I'm awed by it.  As a Rabbi, my heart swells to welcome two of
"our kids" into the fold of "Teachers in Israel." As a Jew, I'm struck by the
continuity of it all.  I think it is what we are all about.  But can you
imagine?  Two new Rabbis, and a new Jewish family, all in one weekend!

I saw many camp alumni in Cincinnati today, some who feel close and some not. 
But I also talked with one of our campers.  When he saw me his whole face
brightened.  He looked at me, but he saw camp.  He came to me to wish me a
Shabbat Shalom and to boast that this year he would be in 2nd year Gezah.  The
twinkle in his 12 year old eyes turned me from these deep feelings of
nostalgia, from looking back, to an excited anticipation of what lies ahead,
summer 1990.  I tingle at the thought of new campers, staff, hopes and dreams,
new relationships.

As we make our descent into L.A. another warm thought crosses my mind.  At the
beautiful and historic Plum Street Temple, just before the ordination service
began, I had the chance to see some of my old professors and Rabbis.  Dr. Jacob
Marcus, the patriarch of H.U.C. (he's 93 years old) my American Jewish History
professor, wished me a Shabbat Shalom but then asked jokingly "Who is watching
the camp?"  I think he was happy to see me and wanted me to know that he
remembered who I was. The question made me laugh, but now that I think of it
the answer to the question is what's important.  I should have given him a
confident smile and told him not to worry.  Who's watching the camp?  "We are,
Dr. Marcus.  We are."
Ron