Carol, I can see you walking in the shetach, the open field of Camp Massad, in the early morning and late at night.
I can see you walking the shetach with the white rum kol, the portable loud speaker, in your hand, which you carried as Director in the 1980’s–forgive me for losing track of the exact years, which I can no longer remember.
Carol, I can see you walking in your rubber boots, on the dock sections that were put down on the shetach when the rain water started to pond and make big puddles, and flooded the shetach.
Carol, I can see you sitting at the breakfast table across from Sophie Tapper, laughing and wearing a Camp Massad sweatshirt. For some reason my memory of the sweatshirt that you wore was red, but I am no longer sure.
Carol, I can see you behind the counter in the Camp Kitchen serving up food, or going into the walk-in fridge to put out extra snacks for the staff. I even think I can see you shooing out the rest of us, who were trying to get into the walk-in fridge on late nights without being noticed.
Carol, I can see you arriving on the overnight at Camp Morton, jumping out of the van or a car with pans of dessert for starving campers and counsellors. Carol, I can see you bent over the backdrops you were painting in the Oolam, the auditorium.
You taught me how to mix the paint and not make it too thick so that Sophie Tapper, the Camp Eemah, wouldn’t say we were wasting paint and going through it too quickly.
I can see you going around the auditorium gathering up all the extra tape that was rolled out on popsicle sticks, so that it wouldn’t be thrown out and go to waste. And I can see you walking around the auditorium making sure that the counsellors on the ladders took out all the tacks from the wooden rafters and walls.
Carol, I can hear your voice telling me to draw the backdrop quickly so that I could get the kids to start painting it right away, so that they weren’t sitting around waiting and doing nothing. I can hear you telling me to make sure there were enough decorations so the room would look full.
Carol, I can see you in cheder amanoot, the art and crafts room, and going over the supplies that we would need to do the art program in the summer.
Carol, for some reason I especially remember your backdrops when your maccabiah team did “Circus” as an aroochah (meal)–they were gorgeous, and the atmosphere was superb and I seem to remember there being drawings of monkeys everywhere. Forgive me again, I don’t remember the year any longer.
Carol, I can see you also drawing the flags for the Maccabiah teams that used to be hung on the roof of the meesrad (the office). I hope the ones you did have survived the years.
Carol, I can see you drawing that Camp Massad Palm Tree, a logo for a camp that never had or ever will have a Palm tree, unless we move to a tropical location.
Carol, I can see you at late night staff meetings in the mo’adon, filled with old couches.
Carol, I can see you at reekud am dancing with some of the newer younger campers, making them feel welcome and special. And I can see you again with that white rum kol in your hand announcing the new songs and dances coming up next.
Carol, I can see you hitting the lids of the kitchen pots (is that what they were?) when we formed two lines and sang "Smeachim Anuchnu Po bi Machane Massad" in the auditorium.
Carol, I can see you on the highway stopping traffic ushering the campers across the highway to go for general swim in the lake, although my memory is that you never actually went into the water. Something to do with the water giving you a rash? Or is that just a joke we made as to why you never went into the water?
Carol, I can see you with Robbie, walking on the shetach to the refet (the barn) to get supplies. I am sure I was there the year that you first began dating Robbie.
Carol, I can remember Hanhalah meetings in your cabin, where we sat dividing up the maccabiah teams, hoping to balance out each side so would have a tight competition.
Carol, your talent to educate children were visible back then when you were at Massad. It made sense you would become a teacher for junior kindergarten.
Carol, you have died far too young, and yet in your short life you have had such an impact on an entire community.
Carol I can see you smiling on the campsite, near the gate, coming up to me to hug me, saying "Hi Spivka", and I can hear you laughing. Laughing. Laughing.
Carol, your life was a blessing. May your children know just how much your life has impacted others
Carol, I can see you in the shetach.
May your memory be a blessing to all that remember you…
