By Emily Jean
The final question on the application reads, “Why do you want to work at Summer Camp?” Nearly everyone writes some cliché bullshit along the lines of “Camp is my home away from home” or “I really want to embrace and explore my Jewish roots.” That’s the sort of sappy crap the directors look for during the hiring process. Each summer, they employ a staff of us ranging from seventeen to thirty – everyone on the verge of futureless and bringing the single-and-ready-to-mingle mentality of a sexually desperate high schooler. So let’s be honest here. If we were all to answer that question truthfully, we would collectively type: Continue reading
By Emily Jean
The other day I fell in love with a dress I knew I couldn’t afford on one of the overwhelmingly delicious racks at Urban Outfitters. And after experiencing the back and forth battles of joy versus angst and I-Cant-Live-Without-This versus Broke-Ass-College-Kid, I realized that the dress represented more than just floral, cotton, and my entire paycheck. It represented a Friday night on a beautiful peninsula in Middle-of-Nowhere, MO. The dress represented too many posey photographs taken in front of the mural outside the dining hall, hairy Shabbos chicken and dry chocolate cake, checking for daddy long legs on the chapel benches at services before returning to sitting after the Mourner’s Kaddish, and lots and lots of clapping, dancing, and cheering out random words in Yiddish. Camp’s Shabbat was all up in that dress, because plainly and simply, thoughts of camp are always all up in my mind.