From the American Scene:
The summer I was ten I was given a three-week scholarship to a large Jewish camp through my Hebrew school. My Talmud Torah had two buildings: one was dark and grimy, with crowded classrooms set over a basement synagogue about which I can remember only the spittoons; the other was new, of bright red brick, and placarded with posters calling on us to collect for the Jewish National Fund. Camp was part of the world of the new building. A bustling community of bunkhouses and tents, Camp Herzl (the name is fictitious) throbbed with animal spirits. Hebrew songs leaped into the bright air. All was purposeful vigor, ideological conviction, the polished brass of a new faith.
About the Author