In 1943, Camp Kadimah opened – a summer camp for Jewish kids from all across the Maritimes. In Barss Corner, along Lake William, the Atlantic Jewish Council built up white log cabins and a swim dock. Trains and carpools were arranged for Jewish kids from towns big and small to come together.
For many, this would be their first time meeting other Jews their age. The Kabbalat Shabbat services, Friday night Israeli dances, and Saturday morning services would inspire religious traditions that prevailed for years after they had left camp. For some, the canoe docks or painted picnic benches by the lake would be where they found their future husbands and wives, as was the case for many of my relatives, including my parents.
In the summer of 2017, when I first attended Camp Kadimah, I had high expectations. Both of my grandmothers attended camp, as did all of my aunts and uncles, and many of my cousins. I already knew the camp song and the special names of the activities (Sababa, Rikud, Hagana, Maccabia), having heard stories about my parents' favourite times at camp. Camp Kadimah has wound itself through my family tree. Each year at camp, I have coincidentally been in a bunk bed where I’ve spotted my parents’ or aunt and uncle’s names scrawled on the walls. Kadimah is where I first met some of my cousins; my staff approached me my first year to tell me, to my surprise, that we share great-grandparents. Many of my campers’ parents’ were my parent’s campers. Camp isn’t just a place to have fun for six weeks – it's a place to connect to your family and past.
Last summer, in my second year as a staff, half of my cabin hailed from Nova Scotia. Part of Kadimah’s uniqueness is its ability to unite Jews from Toronto, many of whom attend Hebrew day school, and Jews from the Maritimes, some of whom are the only Jewish children in their towns, a union that allows for an educational blend of Jewish experiences.
On the first Friday of camp, I explained to kids unfamiliar with Shabbat Traditions why we cleaned the cabin in the afternoon (we want a clean cabin for Shabbos). And why we wore blue and white to the Shabbat services (colours of Israel!). I made sure to remind them that even if they didn’t know the words to Shalom Aleichem or Lecha Dodi now, they would by the time they were my age. By the last Friday, my eight-year-old campers told me they would soon miss the sound of the whole camp singing together and celebrating Shabbat. Together, we sat, doing Kiddush and splitting the challah, just like our parents did before us, and future Kadimah generations will do in years to come.
What’s my favourite part of camp? Any day but the last, I’d say. Maybe Saturdays, when all of the camp gathers at the “Field of Dreams” (the softball diamond) to watch campers and staff compete in fierce games. Or Visitor’s Day, when Kadimah celebrates its multi-generational family, and the parents join their kids playing sports or in the lake. Huge picnic tables are set up where cousins and family friends are joined by parents and grandparents, and it's impossible to walk through the camp without someone calling your name to say hi. Or perhaps, the four days of Maccabiah, colour wars, where a morning of athletic challenges and tug of war is followed by an afternoon of Formal March Past (literal marching), events that have been done since my grandparents were campers.
So, at nineteen, I am going back for my final summer as a section head. I’m excited (counting down the days!) but scared – anticipating how I can best impart my love for camp and these soulful rituals to Kadimah’s next generation of campers. Kadimah, my family in so many ways, has given me the confidence to be a leader, a kind friend, and a passionate, practicing Jew. Though my friends think it is crazy that I return year after year to the same middle-of-nowhere Nova Scotian camp, I cannot think of anywhere I would rather be. Everyone thinks their camp is special. But Camp Kadimah is unique as a home to the Maritime Jewish community, growing to include Canadians from far and wide that continue to send their kids for generations. Ruach like that, I’d claim, is unmatched.
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