Camp Miriam is a place where chanichimot (campers) feel free to be Jewish, to celebrate their traditions and to be part of a community guided by compassion, curiosity and joy. (photo from Camp Miriam)
Last year was another remarkable one for Camp Miriam. It was our biggest summer yet, with more than 350 chanichimot (campers). As I reflect on my past two summers as rosh (camp director), I find myself flooded with memories and filled with gratitude for the Camp Miriam community. Two years may seem brief in the 77-year history of the machaneh (camp), but they have been the most meaningful, inspiring and impactful years of my life.
Each summer is filled with magical moments. (photo from Camp Miriam)
Over the past two summers, I’ve witnessed countless moments of growth and transformation. I’ve seen chanichimot arrive shy and uncertain, only to leave a few weeks later with their eyes full of tears, reminiscing with their kvutza (age group) about their favourite memories. I’ve watched tzevet (staff) bring passion, kindness, care and love to every activity and experience with their chanichimot. Each summer is filled with magical moments, from special theme days to Shabbat rikkud (Israeli dancing) to impromptu singing and dancing in the chadar ochel (dining hall).
In a world that often feels complicated and uncertain, machaneh remains a place for belonging and safety. It’s a place where chanichimot feel free to be Jewish, to celebrate their traditions and to be part of a community guided by compassion, curiosity and joy. A place where it is encouraged to ask questions, feel deeply and be yourself. For so many of us, the magic of machaneh exists in the connections we form: to one another, to traditions and to the generations who have come before us.
In a world that often feels complicated and uncertain, machaneh remains a place for belonging and safety. (photo from Camp Miriam)
When I first arrived at Camp Miriam in 2010, I knew immediately it was special. However, I didn’t realize how influential it would be. I have made lifelong friendships and incredible memories, and have learned countless lessons that will stick with me for the rest of my life. Camp Miriam provides a space and community where the dreams, ambitions and ideas of youth are taken seriously. Spending a summer at a camp offers young people an opportunity to step out of their comfort zone, build confidence, gain independence and form friendships that feel like family.
Camp Miriam has changed my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined. Having the privilege of watching campers and staff grow, form lasting connections and take on new challenges has deepened my own sense of purpose, appreciation and hope. The experience is made possible by the entire community, the chanichimot who return each summer, the tzevet who choose to spend their summers creating magic, the volunteers who support us behind the scenes, and the parents who trust us to create a home away from home.
For more than 75 years, Camp Miriam has been a place where young people discover their voice, their community and a sense of possibility. The experiences built each summer continue to empower youth long after they leave camp.
Ariella Smith-Eidelmanwas director of Camp Miriam, 2024-2025.
The list of things that kids learn at summer camp, while having fun and making friends, is almost endless. (photo from Camp Miriam)
Serendipity led us to Camp Miriam. In the span of one week in the fall of 2017, two friends – who didn’t know each other at the time – asked where I was planning to send my then–7-year-old daughter to camp. I had been thinking about it but had no idea where to begin. Having not grown up in Vancouver, I didn’t know the options. Both friends spoke glowingly about Camp Miriam. One was an alum; the other had sent her older daughter.
Camp registration day was approaching, and both of my friends’ daughters were desperate to know who else would be going. I relied on those moms’ advice and, with their gentle prodding, made one of the best parenting decisions I’ve ever made. To this day, these moms remain among my most trusted friends.
That first summer, after the five-day introductory session for her age group at Camp Miriam, our daughter came down the steps at the ferry terminal looking exhausted but happy. She was holding hands with a new friend. She hugged her friend goodbye before she hugged us hello. In the car ride home, we asked her to tell us about camp.
“There was a big holiday and it was so much fun. Can I go to camp every year for that holiday?”
I pulled out my phone to Google Jewish holidays in July. There were a few obscure ones, but nothing that seemed worth traveling on three buses and two ferries to celebrate.
“Do you remember what holiday it was?” I asked.
“They called it Shabbat.”
My husband and I looked at each other.
“Shabbat happens every week – we celebrate Shabbat, too,” I started to explain. From the rearview mirror, I could see her face scrunch up.
“Well,” she said, “they celebrate it much better at camp.”
It turns out Shabbat isn’t the only thing they do better at Camp Miriam.
Recently, I asked my daughter what she loves most about camp. She mentioned a few specifics – tiyul (the overnight backpacking trip), rikud (the weekly Shabbat Israeli folk dance) – and then said something I wasn’t expecting, because it’s exactly the same thing I love most about Camp Miriam. She said her favourite thing is how much she learns there.
(photo from Camp Miriam)
As she rattled off the list of topics – Israel, Jewish traditions, Hebrew, practical skills, responsibility – I realized how often I’m pleasantly surprised by what she has learned from camp. Things beyond the public school curriculum, and often beyond even my most patient and, dare I say, awesome parenting. Camp is both a safe space and a challenging one. At camp, my daughter has the opportunity to hone essential life skills: independence, resilience, teamwork, acceptance, adaptability. She has gained confidence, built friendships, appreciated the restorative power of nature, and enjoyed time away from screens. She has learned to paddle a kayak, varnish a wooden canoe, and passed the swim test doing the backstroke the year she forgot her goggles and decidedthe chlorine stung her eyes. She didn’t even know what varnish was before camp. And I didn’t know she could backstroke across an entire pool.
I’ve learned a lot, too.
The Camp Miriam registrar later told me I had been the stereotypical nervous mom. I would show up at information sessions full of concerns and fire endless questions at the staff. Eventually, she gently reminded me that my anxiety could rub off on my child. “We’ve got this,” she told me. Then, she gave me the most valuable advice of all: “Tell your kid that when they’re at camp, they should go to their counselors with their concerns and problems. That’s what they’re there for.” I can honestly say that in all the years she’s been at camp, the counselors have been there for her 100%. After a few years, I realized I should leave space at the information sessions for the new crop of nervous parents.
We’re now getting ready to send our daughter to Israel this summer with her Camp Miriam kvutzah (peer group). I’m no longer the nervous mom I was. Camp Miriam has helped me hone my own parenting skills. Even if a bit of nervousness still lingers – though I won’t admit it does – I’m mostly just thrilled for my daughter. I’m full of gratitude for the experiences camp has given her. I know this upcoming trip will be transformative, and that she’ll come back with greater insight, understanding and appreciation of Israel and Judaism. She will make friends from around the world and return home an even more confident, compassionate and resilient human being.
And, after the trip, when I pick her up at the airport, as she hugs her camp friends goodbye, I’ll be busy hugging my camp-mom friends hello.
The bright, happy cover of The Scribe Summer Camps Issue, which was released last month by the Jewish Museum & Archives of British Columbia (JMABC), draws readers right in. The 95-page magazine-format journal is packed with colour photos of campers having a great time, doing some amazing things in the beautiful place we live, the Pacific Northwest.
The issue features seven camps. In the order they are presented, they are overnight options Camp Miriam (Gabriola Island, BC), Camp Hatikvah (Okanagan Valley, BC), Camp Solomon Schechter (near Olympia, Wash.), Camp Kalsman (Arlington, Wash.) and Sephardic Adventure Camp (Cle Ulum, Wash.), and day options Camp Gan Israel (Vancouver) and the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver’s Camp Shalom. The basic structure of each profile is an overview of the camp and its history, then oral history segments from camp directors; all the overnight camp sections include interviews with former campers, as well.
Many Jewish Independent readers will recognize the names at least of most of the former attendees of the BC overnight camps: Bernie Simpson, Selina Robinson, Robert Krell, David Levi, Danya Rogen, Sam Gutman, Ted Zacks, Arthur Dodek, Stephen Glanzberg, Susan Fine and Kayla Cohen. And, from the Jewish Independent’s annual Camp Guides, many of the directors and staff might even be familiar: Leah Levi (Miriam), Liza Rozen-Delman (Hatikvah), Zach Duitch (Solomon Schechter), Rabbi Ilana Mills (Kalsman), Rabbi Dovid and Chaya Rosenfeld (Gan Israel) and Ben Horev (Camp Shalom).
The one camp that was new to the JI was a long-established one, Sephardic Adventure Camp, whose director is Rabbi Kenneth Pollack. It’s been around for decades and yet hadn’t crossed our radar. There are always things to learn!
In the interviews, people talk about how they became involved with their camp, how it is/was to work there, what makes/made their experience special. They are also asked why Jewish camps are important in their view, what they have learned, in what ways camp inspired them, and more.
Interviewees share some of their personal history, as well as answer more light-hearted queries, like “Your favourite food served at camp?” “Your favourite day at camp?” “If you were still attending camp, what activity would you want to excel at?” “If you weren’t working in the career you’re in, what would you be?”
As unique as all the camps are, there is overlap of such things as activities offered, lessons learned, inspirations gained, even though some camps are more ideological, some place more emphasis on Judaism and religious observance, others prioritize sports and outdoor life.
“Regardless of ideology or format,” writes Elana Wenner, the museum’s director of programming and development, in her introduction, “the camps are united in their intention to organically build community through immersive and engaging experiences.”
She observes: “Through the articles in this publication, three overarching themes emerge that serve to unite the experiences shared at all seven camps. They are: 1. The role of the personal camp experience as a grounding point for Jewish self-identity; 2. The influence of Jewish camp experience on personal values and ideals; and 3. The integral link between Jewish summer camp attendance and Jewish community involvement, both in childhood and later in life.”
While there is much data to support the personal and communal benefits of Jewish camp, there’s nothing like personal expressions to bring that message home.
“The personal stories shared by alumni and staff and supporters reveal how these camps forge deep, lasting connections that extend well beyond the summer months,” writes archivist Alysa Routtenberg in the journal’s concluding section. “These connections create a network of relationships that continue to enrich participants’ lives and bolster their sense of belonging.”
And Routtenberg underscores the need to preserve, as the JMABC does, these experiences through oral histories.
“By recording and sharing these stories,” she writes, “we ensure that the essence of Jewish summer camps is preserved for future generations, offering them a window into a cherished aspect of Jewish life.”
That includes the serious and the less serious of life. Reading about how Jewish summer camp allowed people to connect more deeply with their Jewish identity, learn valuable personal and professional lessons, make lifelong friends and more, is as interesting as discovering that anyone has a favourite camp food and what camp activity people would have wanted to excel at.
Carol Crenna was the managing editor and features writer for this edition of The Scribe; Sonia Bishop, graphic designer. Among the many people who donated their time and skills to getting the journal to publication were Heather Glassman Berkowitz, as copy editor, and Helen Aqua and Judith Gurfinkel, who chair the Scribe committee, were editorial consultants. Other volunteers acted as interviewers and transcribers. The journal committee is Aqua, Gurfinkel, Glassman Berkowitz, Gary Averbach, Debby Freiman, Daniella Givon (president of the JMABC board), Barb Schober and Ronnie Tessler.
The Camp and other issues of The Scribe can be purchased from the museum and archives for $20. Call 604-257-5199 or email [email protected].
Selina Robinson (centre front) was a counselor at Camp Miriam for four summers. She is pictured here, in 1981, with the Sayarim (Grade 5s) in that year’s first session. (photo from Camp Miriam)
Little did I know how much Camp Miriam would teach me about leadership, standing up for others and how to be the “Jew in the Crew” in the face of antisemitism.
I never had the opportunity to go to Camp Miriam as a chanicha (camper) and wish that I had had that opportunity. I am grateful however that, when I was 17, a fresh-faced graduate of Richmond High School, I got hired for the summer of 1981 to be a madricha (counselor).
I had no idea what I was getting into, but, within days, I realized that I had been missing regular contact with a Jewish community. Back in 1981, there were only four Jewish students in our school of 1,200. But Camp Miriam was much more than being in an environment where I didn’t have to explain myself, my traditions, my values. It was an environment that encouraged me to explore how I wanted to be Jewish. Learning about Israeli culture and history in a place that values debate and discussion taught me that all perspectives have value.I learned how to consider various perspectives, how to be respectful in debate and how to articulate my arguments.
Joining the tsevet (staff) was a tremendous opportunity to learn and refine so many leadership skills, setting a personal example, making sure that all members of the group are equally engaged and even how to chair a meeting with more than 100 campers (yes, it is possible to chair a meeting with more than 100 children).
Camp Miriam helped me understand not just the importance of social responsibility but how to put these ideas into practice. I got to see these ideals in action and see why they are important, and then to talk with the chanichimot (campers) about why we have these values and what they mean to us as Jews and as human beings who are responsible for one another. Whether we were cleaning the sherutim (bathrooms) or painting the rocks around the mifkad (flagpole), it was always with purpose and understanding that we were taking responsibility for our home.
Selina Robinson (fourth from the left) with the Amelim (third and fourth graders) in the second session of 1981’s summer camp season. (photo from Camp Miriam)
I worked at Camp Miriam over four summers and, as I reflect on my time there, I am struck by how those four summers impacted my life as I got my post-secondary degrees, worked in the social services sector, started a private practice and eventually moved on to politics. In every leap, my experiences at Camp Miriam were there with me: the importance of caring for others who might be down on their luck, the role of personal responsibility in decision-making and how to make collective decisions.
As a Coquitlam city councilor from 2008 to 2011, I put these collective decision-making skills into practice often. I listened to my colleagues around the council table present their arguments and determined if I agreed or disagreed with the direction they wanted to go – it was just like an asefa (meeting) that a kvutsa (group) might have about how to spend their kupa (collective pot of money). It was in these meetings with 11- and 12-year-olds that I learned how important it was that everyone have an opportunity to have their say so that we could make the best decisions for the collective. I was able to carry this experience with me into my political life.
When I became BC minister of finance in 2020, I received a note from Leah Levi, Camp Miriam’s registrar at the time. She sent me a note of congratulations and included “make good decisions with the kupa.” I had a good chuckle, realizing that is exactly what I was responsible for, our province’s kupa, making spending decisions with the Treasury Board and the cabinet. Little did I know that my four years at Camp Miriam would come in handy as I managed our province’s finances as we navigated through a global pandemic.
Upon reflection, I believe that my ability to sit around a cabinet or council table and make collective decisions, my appreciation of the responsibility for managing the province’s kupa, and even my decision to walk away from government inaction as antisemitism continued to raise its ugly head, all stem from how Camp Miriam helped me understand what it means to be a proud Jew and what it takes to be an effective leader. Camp Miriam helped me to be the person that I am today and for that I am eternally grateful.
Selina Robinson was the MLA for Coquitlam-Maillardville from 2013-2024 and a BC NDP cabinet minister from 2017 to 2024. She was fired from cabinet and left the BC NDP in early 2024. She wrote a memoir about her experiences, Truth Be Told, which is available on Amazon. For more information, visit selinarobinson.ca.
Kelley Korbin, left, and Trilby Smith honour Bernie Simpson, who has been a longtime staunch supporter of Camp Miriam, which he attended, starting in the mid-1950s. (photo by Adi Keidar)
Hundreds gathered Dec. 7 to mark 75 years of Camp Miriam. Generations of campers convened at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver for an emotion-packed reunion of alumni and friends, in which the Habonim Dror-affiliated Labour Zionist camp was fêted for having an outsized impact on building British Columbia’s Jewish community.
The celebration actually marked 76 years since the beginning of the camp, but the event, originally scheduled for last year, was postponed as a result of the Oct. 7, 2023, terror attacks.
Some of those who have strengthened Camp Miriam in recent years were honoured at the celebration.
Sam Bernofsky paid tribute to Leah Levi, who retired after 17 years as camp registrar, in 2023, but continues her involvement as bookkeeper and keeper of institutional memory. She received an ovation and video-recorded greetings from alumni and friends.
Trilby Smith and Kelley Korbin honoured Bernie Simpson who, among other contributions, has ensured that camperships are available for all who need them, guaranteeing that finances are never a barrier to participation. Simpson also nurtured relationships with non-Jewish supporters of the camp, including former BC Supreme Court Justice Angelo Branca, and former Speaker of the House of Commons John Fraser, both now deceased. Through fundraising and personal contributions, Simpson is credited with playing a core role in every capital project the camp has completed in recent decades. He is also Camp Miriam’s unofficial historian and archivist.
Speaking to the Independent, Simpson credited Camp Miriam (along with his wife, Lee) for every success in his life, including his time as a member of the BC legislature.
“It means everything to me,” Simpson said of the camp, which he began attending in the mid-1950s. “It probably shaped my whole life. The Habonim leadership at that time, which was the camp leadership, took me under their wing. I came from quite a disturbed home and they had lots of patience for me and they ended up being my life.
“They had time for a shmuck like me,” he said. “That was remarkable. But I’m not the only person.”
Alan Tuffs was being physically abused in his home, Simpson said. The head of the Jewish welfare agency, Jessie Allman, called Simpson up and asked if Camp Miriam would “take this boy.”
Tuffs went on to study Judaism in Israel and recently retired as a rabbi in Hollywood, Fla., after 45 years.
Shalom Preker was another Miriam success story, according to Simpson, having overcome challenges to become a PhD and a global expert in health financing. Preker has served in senior roles at the World Bank and the International Finance Corporation, focused on the health sector in developing countries.
Pioneers of the movement – often kids themselves at the time – were remembered throughout the evening. Michael Livni, né Langer, spearheaded the purchase of the camp on Gabriola Island. As a teenager, Langer/Livnicajoled philanthropists to front the money to purchase the camp’s site from the Cooperative Commonwealth Federation, precursor to the New Democratic Party, in 1956.
Until then, Habonim had rented camps for summer programming, and ran youth programs in Vancouver throughout the year. Livni, who made aliyah and went on to be a leading figure in both Reform Zionism and the kibbutz movement in Israel, died this year at age 89.
Simpson credited the late Army & Navy department store founder Sam Cohen, as well as the late Ben and Esther Dayson and the late Norman Rothstein as benefactors who set the foundation for Camp Miriam’s long-term sustainability.
The anniversary event featured a display of the camp over the decades and pioneers, living and departed, were celebrated. Camp “matriarch” Gloria Levi was on hand, and the movement’s leaders of the past and present shared memories.
Miriam alumni Michael Schwartz emceed the evening, provided a moving reflection on the impacts of Oct. 7 on the Habonim community, and recalled his own memories of camp.
“I got to experience moments I will never forget,” Schwartz said, including the staging of a “show trial” of the Little Mermaid. “Through all these experiences – some absurd, yes – Miriam taught me some of life’s most important lessons. It taught me about the so-called big, important things, like history and justice, political philosophy, but it also taught me about the truly important things, like teamwork, leadership, friendship and girls.”
Jay Eidelman, the camp’s new director of fundraising and strategic planning, said that next summer’s enrolment will be a record 360, with a waiting list of others who want to come.
“That’s 5% more than last year, which was also a record enrolment,” he said. “Our retention rate is an astounding 90%.”
Especially in this time of rising antisemitism, Eidelman said, Jewish kids need safe spaces.
“Miriam is that space and for many of our campers,” he said. “Miriam is the only place where they can explore their Jewish identities, their relationship to Israel and their relationship to our community.”
He noted that 85% of Miriam campers attend public schools and more than half come from outside the city of Vancouver.
“We are growing and we need to grow sustainably,” he said. “That’s why, in 2022, with the help of the Ronald S. Roadburg Foundation, we started a site master planning process to help us grow sustainably.”
Left to right at Camp Miriam’s 75th anniversary celebration are Sue Siklos (parent), Trilby Smith (past camp committee chair) and Gretchen DuMoulin. (photo by Adi Keidar)
Brian Tucker, chair of the camp’s board, and Ariella Smith-Eidelman, who is going into her second year as rosh machenah (head of camp), spoke from their respective positions. Video greetings were shared from alumni Selina Robinson, former provincial cabinet minister, and Seth Rogen, comedian and actor.
The anniversary celebration was emotional, said Leya Robinson, who took over as Camp Miriam’s community director last year, succeeding Levi. Before returning to her hometown of Vancouver, Robinson (a second-generation Habonimnik, thanks to her mother Selina) worked for the North American Habonim movement in New York as director of education and then spent five years in Israel, where she directed programs in Israel for Habonim Dror campers and university students worldwide.
“It was very heartwarming, almost in an overwhelming way,” Robinson said of the event. “Just to have that deep a sense of belonging and to look around and see how many other people felt that same sense of community and belonging to Camp Miriam. I just feel so lucky to be a part of the community and to have the experience at Camp Miriam.”
In these challenging times, she said, that connection is vital.
“It’s really easy to fall into despair seeing what’s happening, and having community helps to build up that sense of hope or to maintain that sense of hope and to see that we are not isolated and we have friends and partners and people to talk with,” she said.
David Bogdanov told the Independent that his camping experiences in the late 1970s and early ’80s were “very transformative and almost lifesaving.”
“It gave me a strong love of Israel,” he said. “It really enhanced my relationship with the Jewish community and really informed my whole life to a very large degree.”
Michelle Plotkin, a member of the committee that put the anniversary event together, wasn’t a camper herself but has seen the camp’s effects on her daughter.
“It just offers so many opportunities for the kids to be independent and learn how to be comfortable outside their comfort zone and stretch their minds and imaginations,” Plotkin said. “My daughter does things I never would have expected her to be comfortable doing.”
It was Plotkin’s idea to put together a one-time band for the event. The six-member group was made up of three professional and three amateur musicians, all of them Miriam alumni. The musicians, who dubbed themselves the Final Messiba, were Yonni Silberman (drums), Sunny Zatzick (guitar), Daniel Pimentel (bass guitar), Ira Cooper (vocals), Roy Vizer (percussion) and Jessica Stuart (lead guitar and vocals, and music director).
Gretchen DuMoulin, who chaired the evening’s organizing committee, has experienced almost all aspects of camp, from being a camper herself, a madricha (counsellor), a parent to campers and madrichim, and an organizer of family camps and then the 75th anniversary celebration.
She said Camp Miriam “is a whole Jewish and cultural experience. Every aspect of camp is thoughtfully planned with aspects of Jewish values, equality, social justice and leadership woven throughout. Every camper has an opportunity to become a leader at some level and for their voice to be heard and counted. It is 100% a youth leadership-run camp.”
DuMoulin cites lasting friendships as an enduring legacy of camp.
“There is something about spending weeks at a time, day and night, independently but together,” she said, “that just allows you to form friendships in a different way than when you are at home and in school.”
Mairav Robens-Paradise, right, has found her community, and so much more, at Camp Miriam. Her closest, deepest relationships are the friendships she has made through camp. (photo from Camp Miriam)
Last summer was my 11th year at Camp Miriam. Even before my first year, in 2012, I dreamed about sneaking onto the school bus parked in the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver parking lot as we dropped off my older brothers to go to what I understood to be the most magical place on earth. Over a decade later, I can confidently say that description is an understatement.
I grew up attending public school, where my siblings and I made up the majority of the Jewish population. I don’t recall my immense excitement to go to camp being consciously related to my Judaism, but unbeknownst to 8-year-old me, it would forever alter my connection to my sense of self and my community. Camp Miriam fostered the environment that allowed me to grow into my Jewish identity. At camp, you are surrounded with people who all relate to their Judaism in different ways, both culturally and religiously, and are given the tools and safety to form that unique, personal relationship.
I am currently in my second year of university at McGill, in Montreal, living with two friends from camp. It has been incredibly important to me to have a Jewish community nearby, especially over the past several months, and my roommates are just a fraction of the connections Camp Miriam has given me.
The strength of the friendships I have made over my years of involvement with the camp overpowers any other facet of my life. The values we learn, the skills we practise and the tools we gain at camp equip us to manage complex interpersonal relationships, resolve conflicts and gain independence. Whether it’s learning how to tie knots for camping, defusing relational tensions or discussing social justice, chanichimot (campers) and madrichimot (counselors) alike do so in a secure and empowering environment. Now, as a student who lives away from home, Camp Miriam and its extensive community keep me tethered and grounded to my Judaism and my personal values.
Camp Miriam’s unique structure as a youth-led camp provides empowerment to its entire community. Over the last two years working as a madricha (counselor), I have been trusted with a multitude of responsibilities. Last summer, I had a tafkid (role) that consisted of organizing the programming that occurs during Shabbat. Some of our traditions every Friday include everyone dressing in their nicest clothes and competing for the cleanest cabin award. These small but significant means of welcoming in Shabbat in fun ways foster an exploratory environment for kids to form their connections to Judaism at their own pace.
As a kid, my favourite part of Shabbat was rikud (dance), when all of camp gathers for Israeli dancing. Now, as a madricha, my favourite part is Havdalah, which is a ceremony held every Saturday night to signify the end of Shabbat. Last summer, we introduced live music to our Havdalah tradition, which we listen to while everyone is gathered in a circle watching the ceremonial candle burn. These shared moments all contribute to creating an incredibly strong community of Jewish youth.
As I’m writing this article, I’m sitting in the living room of a member of my national kvutzah (age group/cohort), surrounded by the company of 18 other Jewish members of Habonim Dror North America, the larger movement that Camp Miriam is a part of. This experience really encapsulates what Camp Miriam has given me as a Jew. The closest, deepest relationships I have are the friendships I have made through camp. It’s just not about making friends, learning and forming your identity, but also about finding your community. As I look around, I come to realize – I owe a lot to Camp Miriam.
Mairav Robens-Paradiseis a second-year student at McGill University in Montreal. Last summer was her 11th year at Camp Miriam.
Generations of kids have “the best summer of their lives” at camp. (photo from Camp Miriam)
“There’s no way we are going to a Jewish camp,” my kids declared with absolute resolve. Wait. What? Why??? They explained that they knew “enough” Jewish people and plenty of culturally Jewish things, so camp was not necessary. OK, I thought, that’s completely, totally and utterly crazy.
While we’ve been involved at Temple Sholom for years, speak Hebrew at home and celebrate the holidays, my kids are the only Jewish kids in their classes at public school. They are often told they don’t look Jewish, let alone Sephardi. Whatever that means – there’s a huge span between Barbra Streisand and Ofra Haza. They weren’t excited about their identity, but begrudgingly went along with being Jewish. It was the equivalent of cultural, ethnic and faith feet dragging.
My disappointment couldn’t be missed because I literally said, “I’m so disappointed to hear you say that.” I thought guilt might move them – a powerful tool of every Jewish mother. They apologized. Yes. I was moving the needle. And then, they immediately asked me if they could go to a Christian horse camp. Nope. I failed, while concurrently being mortified. To be clear, I wasn’t horrified of considering a different faith camp, but because they are wildly allergic to horses. Who wants to be the parent that gets a phone call that their kids can’t handle equines? Not me. Too embarrassing.
Moreover, it was a complete reversal of my experience. I begged my parents to send me to a Jewish camp. I started going from the age of 10, eventually visiting Israel and managing to get a coveted staff position. My camp time was the most incredible and defining experience of my youth. I wished, hoped and prayed for my kids to have the same experience. They had shut down the idea, but before I wrote them off as blasphemers, I decided to let it sit and cook in their minds like a delicious shakshuka.
(photo from Camp Miriam)
For a couple of months, they pondered a tough year of COVID-19 shutting down so much of life – and the idea of being away for several weeks with a lot of independence became very appealing. They finally agreed to “let me send them” to Camp Miriam, which was very similar to the camp I went to back east. They diligently packed, were welcomed by friends at registration, got on the bus and did not look back. I got two postcards. The first informed me that they hadn’t been eaten by wild island dogs, and the second told me they were having the best summer of their lives.
The kids came back transformed both physically and figuratively. They both grew half a foot, and something in their psyche profoundly shifted. They loved, I do mean loved, all things Jewish because of Camp Miriam. They had a magical summer that every parent wishes their kid to have. A tight group of friends, a deep respect for their beloved staff and a passion for the programming. Frankly, they wouldn’t zip it about how much they adored Camp Miriam.
They bragged about doing avodah (work), one choosing garbage duty and the other cleaning the sherutim (bathrooms). Umm … what happened? I couldn’t get them to make their beds at home, and they were doing legitimate work at camp? It struck me. Camp Miriam had instilled a profound sense of pride. For weeks, and I do mean weeks, they would prompt a conversation with, “At Camp Miriam….” Some of their most profound moments were having Shabbat at the Point, feeling a deep connection of chevra (community) and telling me they felt understood for the first time. They didn’t have to explain themselves, and that was mind-blowing.
(photo from Camp Miriam)
Going to Camp Miriam coalesced for my kids a sense of identity; they felt seen and heard, so could go deep into what this meant. We were able to have a shared generational experience, which was pretty awesome, considering my kids think electricity was barely invented when I was a kid. I corrected them and explained that the cutting-edge technology of faxing existed when I was a child.
Last week, I overheard them at Sunday Temple Sholom school bragging that Camp Miriam was the best camp ever. And there it is. My kids not only needed Jewish camp, but they also desperately wanted to be there. I feel utterly indebted to Camp Miriam for giving my kids such a brilliant and rich Jewish experience and, although I couldn’t say it to their faces, I was satisfied thinking, “Yes! In your faces. You suck. I was soooooo right about everything, and you were so unequivocally wrong.” Also, now I can breathe easy, knowing they can’t wait to go back to Camp Miriam and build a lifetime of memories and friendships.
Camp Miriam adapted during the pandemic, but nothing quite compares to being back in the old stomping grounds of Gabriola Island. (photo from Camp Miriam)
Camp Miriam is a place that holds fast to tradition. This tendency is obvious if you just look around: tables in the chadar (dining hall) are signed and dated by the former chanichimot (campers) who painted them, with the oldest table proudly displaying an impressive “1997.” Besides the tables, Camp Miriam has been running educational and Labour Zionist-oriented programming since it opened in 1948. Camp Miriam has a solid foundation of tradition and is not a place accustomed to rapid or unexpected change.
If Camp Miriam is so deeply rooted in tradition, how, then, to return to its customs after they were so rapidly and unexpectedly interrupted during the past couple of years? With 2022 constituting the first year that Camp Miriam could offer campers a full-capacity summer on Gabriola Island since 2019, there were many traditions to get back to. I, for one, had started to forget what it feels like when all of camp holds hands on Saturday nights during Havdalah. I was also having a hard time recalling the early morning energy that fills machaneh (camp) at 8 a.m., when around 200 chanichimot and tzevet (staff) are just waking up,eager to meet the day.
Of course, I did get around to remembering both the longstanding customs and everyday activities that take place at camp. But I didn’t do it alone. This summer, I worked as a madatz madrichol (counselor-in-training counselor), one of four madatz madrichimot, meaning I spent a lot of time with youth aged 16 to 17. As future leaders of Camp Miriam, the madatz were grateful to have the chance to take part in the leadership development program, especially after having lost valuable experiences to the pandemic. Throughout the summer, I watched them grow, face challenges and become people who will be important guides in the lives of Camp Miriam campers for years to come. I was impressed and humbled by all they accomplished, and it is largely through them that I was able to remember what it means to be at Camp Miriam.
So what does it mean? Camp offers lots of opportunity for personal development and growth and, at the same time, it provides a nearly criminal amount of fun, both for chanichimot and tzevet. There is avodah (labour) and a chance to take care of their summer “home,” and there are chuggim (interest groups), where kids chose an activity that interests them, like pretending to be Vikings, or swimming or making friendship bracelets. We all explored Gabriola and Vancouver Islands on tiyul (out trips), shared Shabbatot together, and contributed to meaningful conversations in daily educational programming blocks, during which we covered topics from consumerist culture toantisemitism.
While Camp Miriam adapted during the pandemic, nothing quite compares to being back in the old stomping grounds of Gabriola Island. Sure, maybe madrichimot had to explain basic elements of camp to kids more times than usual, but the synapses of the Camp Miriam community were firing and, together, we remembered. It is not a far cry to consider the summer of 2022 as a triumph – both in recovering the institutional memory of Camp Miriam, and in providing campers with meaningful summers. I, for one, know that more than one madatz went home with stories they’ll be telling to their own children.
Reflecting back on the summer, I can’t help but feel a certain amount of pride. There is pride in remembering, and it is thanks to this recovered memory that Camp Miriam will continue to grow.
Emma Paidrahas been a chanichol (camper) at Camp Miriam since 2009 and she is a fifth-year madrichol (counselor).
Earlier this summer, I gave each of my Tzofimot (Grade 8 campers) metal kitchen tongs and told them that we were crabs. Then we all ran around the camp click-clacking our tong pincers and yelling “Crabs!” at the top of our lungs, to the amusement and confusion of everyone we encountered. Next, we headed to the pool for a nighttime crab swim. As we swam around our little “ocean,” I realized how wonderful it felt to be silly again, and it was clear my campers felt the same way.
In 2020, Camp Miriam pivoted and managed to run a day camp despite COVID. In 2021, we were able to return to Gabriola Island for a short time and spend three amazing weeks there. But this year was the first normal summer any of us – staff and campers alike – had had in three years.
It turned out that the thing we needed most was permission to be silly again; a release from the heaviness that these recent years have been. As crazy as it sounds, the simple joy of pretending to be a crab and, for a moment, not caring about anything else, was the perfect antidote to the fear and masks and insulation of the pandemic.
This summer was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life, a phrase which, if I’m honest, I say basically every summer after camp ends. But the additional element of this summer was getting to help my campers – and me – remember and re-learn that silliness is a vital part of life. Sitting and talking with them was meaningful and special, running cool educational programming for them was exciting and interesting, but the most special parts of the summer were the times where all of us let go of our inhibitions and were just goofy. Being crabs, singing “Solidarity Forever” at the top of our lungs from our kayaks, or creating synchronized swimming routines in the pool, it all just felt so freeing.
Being a camp counselor is the hardest thing I have ever done. It requires late nights, constant emotional presence and endless amounts of energy and enthusiasm. The reward is that I get to hang out with incredible campers while we splash around in the pool, cheering and giggling and pretending – and that makes it all worthwhile.
It’s possible that I’m reading too much into a fun activity we ran for our kids. Maybe Crab Night wasn’t as profound as I’m making it out to be, but, for me, it epitomized the magic of this first full summer at Camp Miriam since the pandemic started. Small moments of silliness were what made it feel like a regular summer again. It felt like we had truly returned to camp’s essence: a space to be ourselves, to have fun and to connect with people who care about one another.
Shani Avrahami Saraf is a third-year student at the University of British Columbia and this was her 12th summer at Camp Miriam and her fourth summer as a camp counselor.
Judah Altman, left, Daniel Fine and Marina Levy all packed up for the bus. (photo from Camp Miriam)
Returning to Camp Miriam every summer is like going home. The kids shouting and laughing for joy, the bright smiles of the counselors, beautiful Gabriola Island – there’s no other place like Camp Miriam.
My first summer at Miriam was 2013. I’ve returned every summer since, more in love with the place and the people each time. I’ve grown up at Camp Miriam. I’ve grown up with the people; they are some of my best friends. I’ve grown up as a person; I’m always learning about myself and the world in ever-changing new ways. Most importantly, I’ve grown up at Camp Miriam having fun – summers at camp are what I look the most forward to most and I never want them to end.
Left to right are “Visionaries” Daniel Fine, Marina Levy, Judah Altman, Mira Macnair, Kieran Macnair and Mica Hastings. (photo from Camp Miriam)
I’ve been a camper, a junior counselor, a counselor and, last summer, a counselor for the leadership training program. Last summer was my favourite summer yet, and I can’t wait for this coming summer. To me, Camp Miriam has always been special for two reasons: the first is the activities, and the second is the people.
This summer, as chinuch (educational director) on our youth-led executive team, or mazkirut, I will be in charge of activities for the entire camp. I could not be more excited. One of the main reasons I continue to return to Camp Miriam is the unique options it provides for campers. There are the classic undertakings – like swimming, soccer, art and music. But then there are the programs that few other summer camps have, such as special days where all camp activities run around a surprise theme, ocean swimming as the sun sets, Jewish learning, and a focus on social justice.
I’m also looking forward to seeing the new and returning campers bond with their cohorts and with their counselors. I know firsthand that Miriam friendships last forever. The people I’ve met at camp will undoubtedly remain my friends for the rest of my life. These are the deepest connections I have.
Judah Altman with friends Meital Smith, left, and Rakeea Chesick Gordis. (photo from Camp Miriam)
After two years of COVID, these connections couldn’t be more important: for counselors like me, and especially for kids. Camp Miriam empowers youth and provides a space for kids to be themselves and to continue to discover who they are. It is a place to make new friends and reaffirm old ones. It is a place to talk for hours on end about all manner of issues, and to play and be silly without fear of judgment. It is a place to learn what true friendship means.
I am excited for the summer because, once again, I will get to meet new campers and counselors and help create the community that is the essence of Camp Miriam. I also can’t wait to see all the familiar faces. I can’t wait to run memorable programming for the kids that will be fun, while also empowering them to grow as people. Camp Miriam is the most important place in the world to me – I feel so fortunate that my parents have given me the opportunity to return summer after summer.
Judah Altmanis a student at Columbia University, studying philosophy and sociology. He will be chinuch, or director of education, at Camp Miriam this summer.
