The five hour trip to Interlaken from Milwaukee went a little faster than it should have. Larry and I were headed up to camp early to help get camp ready to open for the summer. Someone had gotten hold of an old UPS truck and donated it to the camp. We were tasked with getting it to camp. It was a rickety old brown box of a truck, UPS definitely got every nickel of value out of the thing. To save time on the drive, Larry and I didn't stop to switch drivers. The truck had a jump seat for the driver, so when it was time to switch, I would stand next to Larry, taking the wheel from him with his foot still on the gas as he worked his way out of the seat, and I simultaneously worked my way into it, resuming full on driving. Oh, to be young again--and that dumb. We probably shaved 15 minutes off our time.Interlaken was a rustic place in the 1970's. The beauty of the camp was in the setting and what it did rather than the facility. Camps have generally morphed into more sophisticated, resort- like facilities over the years. Back then, the camp season was 11 weeks: a week of training, nine weeks of campers, and a week of family camp. Ateret, our fierce leader and Camp Director, gave us the chance to make the season a bit longer by having us come up to help Alex, the caretaker, to get camp ready.
Alex was a camp character and a legend. He wasn't like most of the adults we middle and upper middle class young people usually encountered. Alex retired from his factory job and took up caretaking as his retirement career. He was at camp for 5 months. Open, maintain, and close. At the end of his camp season, as he locked the gate for the final time, he would say, "She Sleeps." It really came across as "She sh-leeps" because of his northern Wisconsin brogue.
Alex checked out the new truck that Larry and I captained up to Eagle River, and pronounced it adequate to haul the camps' rubbish to the dump. He customized it by pulling out the passenger seat to make more room for garbage, thren christened it the "Maggot Mobile."
Camp’s waste management system was centralized at the maintenance shack. If it didn’t burn in the incinerator, it would get tossed in the Maggot Mobile. The incinerator was nestled in the pines right next to the maintenance shack with the truck ready to take the non-burnables. Sometimes Alex, for fun, would toss some aerosol cans into the incinerator. It’d create a mini-explosion and would send flames out the back, the top and really blow through the short chimney. It remains eternal proof of God’s presence that the camp never burned to the ground.
Alex let us know that "the boss-lady" wanted us to get things done. He showed a manager's disdain for hourly employees by demonstrating the difference between hourly pay and "by the job" pay. Picking up a hammer and a nail, the hourly worker would take a light tap at the nail, and then grab his coffee or cigarette and take a well deserved break. The “by the job” worker, would pick up the hammer, and handful of nails, putting the extras in their mouth, and brutalize those nails till they were in place. Alex expected his charges to be "by the job."
The boss-lady, who would laugh when I called her "hard ass", let Alex know that we were to concentrate on building the tent platforms for K'far Noar, the newly developed teen village. When weather wasn't permitting, we were to repaint the windows in the Chadar (the dining room). The dining room had beautiful windows, most in the old simple style of multi-panes.
The framing for the tent pads was laid out, with the frame being mounted on cinder blocks to keep it off the ground, and to compensate for the uneven terrain. Alex did that with our muscle and his know-how. His know-how was certainly greater than our muscle.
First thing in the morning we'd meet Alex in the maintenance building. A single car garage that was the maintenance shack at camp. It was an absolutely horrendous conglomeration of springs, wood, screens, pipes, plumbing parts, drawers of screws and nuts/bolts. There was no real organization. In other words, just about perfect. Alex, though, was very particular about his tools.
Planning the day's tasks we'd stand in the garage listening to our leader. Every so often Alex, who must have been born with chewing tobacco in his mouth, would spit. He had a remarkable gift: he could spit around corners. We'd be at the open garage door in the front of the garage, and his tobacco spit would travel right around to the side of the garage -- swear to God. He was so good that his spit’s trajectory would miss the wood bin attached to the side of the building, every time. I still marvel at this gift
Springtime in Northern Wisconsin can be beautiful. Sunny, bright with cool mornings transforming into warm days. The rains, of course, came. The Chadar windows beckoned. We'd grab bushes, drop cloths, paint and scrappers. There were so many windows in the Chadar, and each had window 12 panes. I learned to paint in tiny places with a big brush. I learned that under the cloak of darkness all errors would be revealed. The places where the paint splotched on the windows (many) became magnified in the dark. Our eyes are a bit more forgiving in the light of day, but at night the eyes work harder and the errors are more apparent. Alex taught me that painting in tight places requires a good razor. That razor beats dried paint every time.
Most memories of camp, particularly those felt by people who were powerfully impacted by it, involve some mixture of the Three S's: Spirituality, Socialization, and Sexuality. While camp provides the Three S's in abundance, they are only a part of camp”s gifts and lifelong lessons. My relationship to Alex contributed to my understanding of work, of aging, and, not insignificantly, how to handle a paint brush.
My efforts to re-imagine this Victorian Era chair probably wouldn't have gotten rave revues from Alex. It did get me thinking about painting, aging, and seeing the world a little differently. Thanks Alex. You sure made a difference.
Camp Interlaken JCC is the Resident Camp of the Jewish Center of Milwaukee. The camp first opened in 1966, having been purchased as a functioning camp. It is located in Eagle River Wisconsin.
David Friedman was at Camp Interlaken JCC
The summer of 1971 - Counselor and Nature Specialist
Summers of 1973, 74, 75 - Trip Leader
Summer of 1977 - Waterfront Director
Summers of 1985, 86, 87, 88, 89 - Camp Director (and the rest of the year too!}
POEM MADE OF WATER 9 1/2 x 12 1/4; Artist Signed bottom Right
Image size: 5" x 3"
