Random Acts of Love

                                                                                                            March, 1996


Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


We all know that, "Al Shlosha D'varim Ha Olam Omed.  On three things the world
stands; on Torah, on Avodah, and on Gimilut Hasadim, acts of loving kindness."
We may interpret these three suspenders of the world in different ways.  Torah
could mean our Jewish heritage and history, it could mean the morality and
ethics taught by our Rabbis throughout the ages, it could mean adherence to
tradition as the structure of life.  Avodah could be work or worship, or even
just the willingness of a person to roll up his/her sleeves and join the rest
of humanity in building our world (how many of us felt that for the first time
when we came here to be Avodahnikim).  And then there is Gemilut Hasidim. 
Maybe you've seen the bumper sticker that shouts, "Practice random acts of
loving kindness."  Perhaps in this day and age, this third pod in the world's
tripod is the most important.

It seems to me that we live in a time when it is very easy to insulate
ourselves from others, to go about our business, attend our classes, watch our
videos, protect ourselves.  But when I think about what's really important, I
can't find anything to top helping someone who needs it.  I'm not talking about
volunteering at the local soup kitchen, or building houses with Habitat for
Humanity.  Those are outstanding things to do, and should be encouraged.  But
I'm thinking about more basic acts of kindness, the ones that could be a part
of our lives everyday, the ones that are right there in front of us if we
choose to see them.  I'm talking about developing a personal philosophy that
pledges oneself to being a helping person.  I'm not forgetting, "Im Ain Ani Li
Mi Li," for a minute.  We all have to care for ourselves, protect ourselves. 
You know that I feel strongly that we are, each of us, our own personal ace in
the hole, our own best friend.  But what a world it would be if, each morning,
people woke up thinking, "I have many things to do today, let's see who I can
help along the way."

We live in a difficult world.  It seems filled with O.J.'s and Menendez
brothers, suicide bombers, and Louis Farrakhans.  Easy to let all that get you
down.  It's better, though when we realize that there are millions more Gimilut
Hasadim doers than those who would destroy the good of the world.  There has
never been a better time for "Tikkun Olam,"  fixing our world.  Last summer we
learned that eventually "Shalom Yavo, Peace will come."  And we dedicated
ourselves to that idea by singing, "Sh'Yatchil Iti!  LET IT BEGIN WITH ME!"  We
can each help to make this world a better place by imbedding the idea of
practicing random acts of loving kindness into our everyday thinking.  We
should be eager to help each other, we should be looking for opportunities to
make others happy, to show our love for our families and friends, to realize
the qualities rather than the imperfections in those we know, to just be a good
friend, parent, son or daughter, sister or brother. 

It's March.  In a short while camp will be upon us.  Think of the opportunities
for "Gemilut Hasidim" that present themselves during a summer here.  I am
thankful we are given such a chance to help others.  From helping homesick
campers to teaching unit heads, we are blessed with opportunities to give. 
Those opportunities exist for you as well, at home, in school, in your
fraternity or sorority houses.  Hey!  You can do it.  Call your Grandpa, out of
the blue, for no reason.  You'll feel the warmth of a beautiful, random act of
love.
Ron

Dan Nichols

                                                                                                  February, 1996

Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:

Allow me to "Kvell."  One of our kids is on the move Jewishly and artistically,
and I think he is going to have a significant impact on the Jewish world.  I am
referring to Dan Nichols who has put together a new band called "Eighteen." 
Danny and his partner, Mason Cooper are writing, performing, and recording some
of the most exciting music I've heard in years.  Their songs speak to all ages,
but will have special meaning and attraction to those who grew up with rock and
roll.  They bring an enormous energy and enthusiasm to their work, coupled with
clever and compellingly relevant lyrics.  It's Jewish art in the making.

Danny was at camp for ten summers and so I feel a special bond with him.  Much
of his deep feeling for Judaism surfaced here in Zionsville.  Now he joins that
strong Jewish identity with his considerable musical talents.  This is music
that needs to be heard, and will be.  Danny and Mason are almost finished with
their first recording, "Here And Now," which will be released soon on CD.  They
are also putting together their first concert tour which will begin at OVFTY
Regionals in Cincinnati in March.  "Eighteen" will perform twice during the
summer here at camp, and several of our other UAHC camps have expressed
interest in having the band do concerts for their campers and staff during the
coming summer.  This is going to be the start of something big. 

 If you want to present a special musical program for your synagogue, Hillel, religious school,
NFTY region or sub region, I strongly urge you to give Dan Nichols a call, get
your hands on the "Here And Now" CD, invite "Eighteen" into your community. 
You can reach Dan at (615) 386-0011.  These fellows are going to knock our
socks off!

In recent weeks I have been all around the Midwest, speaking to families about
camp.  Camper applications have been coming in readily; our camp will be full
again this summer.  Happily, Avodah will reappear this summer with a group of
36 outstanding 12th graders.  I am concerned, however, because we, along with
most of the other UAHC camps, have been experiencing difficulties finding
counselors for the summer.  Unit Heads and other Leadership staff are all in
place, but several counselor positions remain open.  Most years we end up
turning people away, this year we are looking for good counselor prospects.  If
you know of anyone who you feel would be a good staff member in our program,
please encourage him/her to get in touch with me.  Counselor position salaries
have increased, and good jobs remain to be filled.  Please pass the word.
Thanks.

I know this isn't the "Creative" kind of staff letter I have been sending you,
but I wanted you know what was happening around here.  Sort of the good, the
bad, and the ugly of it all.  The good is Danny Nichols.  The bad is the search
for staff.  The ugly?  Well, last week I shaved off my beard.  I'll leave the
rest to your imagination.
Ron

Dukes of Dixieland with My Dad

                                                                                                                       January, 1996


Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


As far back as I can remember, I have been a fan of a particular band, the
Dukes of Dixieland.  I liked Dixieland, but I really fell in love with the
Dukes.  The original Dukes of Dixieland (other groups have used the name) began
in 1947 when brothers Frank and Fred Assunto formed their first highschool jazz
band and began playing their native New Orleans music.  They later turned pro,
were joined by their father, Papa Jac Assunto and the Dukes of Dixieland were
born.  Somehow, when I was about twelve years old, I became a fan.  It seems
funny to me now, looking back on it.  I had never been to New Orleans, never
seen the group on TV, new nothing of that form of jazz.  Must have heard them
on the radio and became an instant admirer.  I bought several of their records,
knew their names, absolutely adored Fred's trombone playing along with Papa
Jac's (he doubled on banjo).  Their music was alive.

In 1960, out for Sunday dinner with my family, I spied a poster on the
restaurant wall advertising a show the Dukes were performing that night at an
American Legion hall way out in Maywood, Illinois.  I begged my father to take
me.  My Dad was anything but a music lover (cars and the Cubs were his
passions), but after many words he caved in.  So, on that cold and snowy,
February night we were off to the far West side.  We found it to be a small
gathering, mostly Legion members, mostly interested in the open bar.  There was
a tiny portable stage set up in the social hall.  An audience of about one
hundred adults, and one kid, me, bubbling over with excitement, holding record
covers in my hand for possible autographs.

And then they appeared.  It was really them.  Fred on trumpet, Frank and Papa
Jac on trombones, backed by a bass/tuba player, clarinet, drums, and piano.  I
was psyched!  After their first set I got them to sign my album covers.  I felt
that they understood that I was there because I was a fan, not just someone out
for a nice evening; and so, we had a special relationship (now I'm sure that
thought never crossed their minds.  But hey, I was a kid).  Toward the end of
the evening Papa Jac stepped up to the mike to ask for requests.  My hand went
up like a shot.  They were used to people asking for well known Dixieland
numbers like, "When The Saints Go Marching In," or "Basin Street Blues," but
were surprised when Papa Jac said, "Let's hear what the kid wants," and I
requested an old New Orleans funeral tune (Woody Allen would have been proud of
me) called, "Oh Didn't He Ramble."  It's the tune played on the way back from
the cemetery when a New Orleans jazzman dies.  Its tempo starts out slow and
steadily gains speed.  It is at first a dirge, then a march, and finally it
breaks into a swinging Dixieland romp.  It celebrates the life that was.  They
began playing.  When the tempo picked up to a march, they began marching around
the room.  When they approached my seat, they paused, pulled me up and made me
the "Grand marshal" of that tiny New Orleans parade.  As silly as it sounds
now, it was quite a thrill for a fourteen year old fan. 
                                      
Yesterday, thirty-five years later, I was walking on my treadmill, listening to
the intricate blend of harmonies from one of those old albums taken from a
jacket with the Assuntos names scrawled on the back.  My mind wandered.  I
began thinking of how similar our camp Leadership Staff is to a Dixieland band
(I know, a mind is a terrible thing to waste).  No, but really, the Program
Director is the lead, like Frank Assunto with that brassy, high-toned trumpet. 
Closely follow the second leads, the Shoresh, Gezah, and Anaf Unit Heads on
clarinet and trombones.  All are supported by the Avodah-Unit-Head-Assistant-
Unit-Head-rhythm-section on bass/tuba, piano, and drums.  It's perfect.  Like
the Dukes, this Leadership Dixieland band plays in harmony (usually), with the
second leads blending behind the lead, playing the intros and the fills, the
rhythm section supporting them all.  And like the Dukes, each player has
his/her opportunity to take a solo or two and lead the group.  All are aiming
toward a common goal and bringing their own talents to its achievement.
Sometimes members of the band play in contrast to each other, against one
another, and tensions arise.  That's when Papa Jac raises his old trombone, and
blows a sweet solo bringing everyone back to the melody and to the realization
that, ultimately the tune's more important than any one part of it.  The
harmonies return and all blend together, swinging toward the final stanza
.
But this is more than just a musical analysis and a thought about camp.  It's a
memory of a snowy, February evening, my Dad and I out for an adventure
together, my chance to lead the parade for a moment or two.  It's the emotional
impression made by melodies gone by, and the anticipation of those yet to be
played; of slow tempos steadily gaining speed.
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

Final Havdalah

                                                                                              December, 1995


Dear GUCI Staff:


There is a little known tradition, which has grown here at camp.  It’s a long beautiful tradition, which never ceases to move me and stay on my mind long after the joys, and trials of the summer subside.  For the past several summers, the staff that has remained in camp after Kallah Bet, to work OVFTY Institute (now called NFTY Institute) has come together on that final Saturday night for a festive meal and last Havdalah service.  It’s the Havdalah that clings to my emotional memory.

The week of NFTY Institute is a sort of detox for the staff who have been in the camp the proceeding nine or ten weeks.  To some degree we experience withdrawal from the intensity of regular camp.  Although we miss the action and involvement of Kallah, the need fulfillment we provide our younger campers (and the ego gratification they often give us), it is good to slowly come out of the fog of fatigue that has engulfed us.  During “Tute” we are still involved in program, we still attend T’fillot, do Shmira, live at camp, work in the Chadar Ochel, etc.  But the pace is slower, Aruchat Boker later, we sleep more, we recover.

As the week nears its end, it is inevitable that the full-summer staff begins to turn its thoughts to the fall and school or work; the profane.  The Havdalah service that week separates more than just that Shabbat from the coming week, it marks the end of camp and the beginning of life after camp.  It seems to have a lot more significance than most Havdalah services.  This summer the twenty or so of us sat on the benches and floor of the Merkaz Tochnit, the porch of the Chadar Ochel for the service.  It was around midnight.  We lit just the Havdalah candle, sat in a circle, tasted the wine, smelled the spices, admired the flame.  It was a quiet and somewhat poignant moment.  The tradition is to spend some moments during the service talking about the summer.  Anyone is free to speak, and most are moved to do so.  It has become a lovely interlude in which we collectively express our pride for the accomplishments of the summer, our strong sense of community and friendship, our hopes for health and happiness in our out-of-camp lives which are about to commence.  This particular Havdalah has become for me, in a very positive sense, an emotional highlight of the summer.  It is a good way to close.

To some degree the staff that works that last week feels as though they are the “survivors” of the summer.  Many of them began as part of the opening crew, arriving at camp before even the Leadership staff.  They cleaned; moved bunk beds, painted, and in general, dug the camp out of a long winter of inactivity.  Then these same kids became counselors, unit heads, and specialists for the long haul of camp.  Now they find themselves sitting on the floor of the Merkaz, looking at the reflection of the Havdalah candle on the faces of their colleagues, closing a chapter in GUCI’s history.  It is at once a triumphant and somewhat sad moment. 

It seems to me that during that final Havdalah of the summer, the wine is a little sweeter, the spices more pungent, and the flame a little brighter than usual.  But when the flame is extinguished, the darkness seems unusually deep as well.

Ron

Rebuilding the Beit Am

                                                                                                                 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 us 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

This Land...

                                                                                                      November, 1995

Dear G.U.C.I. Staff:


The most well known American folksong ever written is undoubtedly Woodie
Guthrie's "This Land is Your Land."  I've been thinking about the song.  Since
camp ended last August, I have seen much of this land and marveled at its
beauty and diversity.  Soon after camp ended, Juca and I traveled on the Blue
Ridge Parkway into North Carolina to spend the Labor Day weekend with Rabbi
Jim(bo) Bennett and his family and congregation.  Three days in a beautiful
mountain top retreat.  The program itself was fun; I told stories, played the
banjo, and we got to spend time with the Bennett family to boot.  But the
setting was mind boggling.  We watched the sun set each evening over the Blue
Ridge mountains.  We drove down winding mountain roads, thick with evergreen
trees.  I could not open my eyes wide enough to take it all in.  After a long,
hot, mid-western summer, the cool and clear mountain breezes refreshed the
spirit.

A week after our mountain romp, we found ourselves back in the Mecca of the mid-
west, Chicago.  It is always thrilling for me to return to the city of my
birth.  This trip was a special treat as we participated in a dinner honoring
Jerry Kaye for completing 25 years as the Director of our camp in Wisconsin,
The Olin-Sang-Ruby Union Institute.  I was at that camp for 14 years before I
migrated south to Zionsville.  As Jerry's first Assistant Director in 1970 when
he came to the camp, I was asked to speak at the dinner.  Honoring Jerry was an
easy thing to do.  Many of the 150 people in attendance had been my campers or
staff members in one of my units in the old days of Union Camping.  The
nostalgia flowed, and being back in the heart of my old hometown made it even
better.  Did I mention that the dinner was held at Commisky Park, home of the
White Sox, the dream team of my childhood (oh! how I remember that 1959
season).  I returned to Chi-town last weekend and had the good fortune to take
a boat ride out on Lake Michigan.  It was a cold and blustery day, but what a
piece of work that city is, and what a sight from a mile out on the lake.  We
stood out on the top deck of that boat, hunched over, leaning into the wind.  I
pointed out a beautiful old brown and tan building, dwarfed by the tallest
skyscrapers.  It was the hotel in which my parents were married. 

The day after the Jerry Kaye dinner, I headed down to Kentucky for four days of
sailing and sun on Kentucky lake.  We sailed over 30 miles down that lake and
anchored each night in a different deserted cove on the shoreline of the state
park called The Land Between the Lakes.  The sights we saw were many; fish
jumping, sun setting on the water, moon rising, calm evenings, windy and wavy
mornings.  We sailed in strong winds and calmer breezes, always marvelling at
the beauty around us.

In-between each of these trips I returned to Zionsville to witness the
progressing October techni-color performance put on by our trees here at
camp.  Quite a show!  From our beautiful camp to the tops of those magnificent
blue mountains of North Carolina, to the currents and coves of Kentucky, with a
few turns around the Loop in between, I'd say I had a quick lesson in
appreciating the words, "This Land Was Made For You And Me." 

Ron