I went to Israel with Todd on the
Pembroke/Tel Noar/Tevya trip. I am grateful to have gone on that
trip with Todd and everyone else. I know that we all shared one of
the best experiences of our lives. I am so sad to have heard of
the death of Todd, he was always such a nice kid and his mere presence could
always make us smile and laugh. I just want to send a poem by
Rebecca Kramer which was read on our last night in Israel, to
remember our experience in Israel and in Todd's memory.
Bare feet on hot pavement, beat out sounds
of summer
Far away from home, and sheltered lives
All the attractions are toured, By giggling
girls and muscular boys
We pay our respects to the wall,Slipping
notes in the cracks
And reciting KADDISH, As we tear our clothes
And then dance away the nights, in smoke
filled dance halls, And little tourist traps
We have been thrown together, By faceless
names, in well-lit offices
Hired to coordinate "meaningful
summers"
We learn to explore, together
Becoming so much closer
Then anyone could ever have known or
suspected
Hoped or dreamed
We are tourists in a strange land
Which slowly grows, To feel like home
Dutifully, we wear our hats, carry our
water-filled canteen in our backpacks or bags
And take pictures of random soldiers and
hasadim
who look at us with contempt and wonder why
we bother, and whether we really care
The letters come from home, over seven
thousand miles away, "are you wearing sunblock" "stay
away from Arabs" "and plese write soon"
We laugh to ourselves, and throw them aside
Nothing can touch us, not now, not here
We learn to be quiet, in dark museums
and have pillow fights, in strange hotel
rooms, where we stay for a night
And lock the doors when we leave
We make random friends, from other groups,
"You're from Ohio, Do you know Sandy?"
Hoping for bits of gossip from home
We talk a moment, and then move along
Thrilled by new bits of trivial news
We sleep on the bus
On the way to Arad or Ben Gurion's tomb
As we loudly complain, about trivial things,
which we know, Don't matter at all
And close our windows tightly, as we pass
through the west bank
Arguing, over what tapes to play today
And hoping that someone will come with the
mail
No one will ever know, At home when we
return
What this summer has meant
They will ask poiltely
Pretending to understand private jokes and
experiences we have all had
They will look at the albums, connect the
names with faces
And places with events
They will laugh at the twenty four pictures
of the sunrise over Masada
And silently wonder why we took them all
But they will never know, the pain of yad
vashem, the beauty of eilat, the wonder or our shabbats, or the
CLOSENESS of our group
And how it felt to say GOODBYE
but we will REMEMBER
as we write letters late at night
while term papers lag on desks unfinished
and forgotten
And when the phone bills arrive and must be
worked off
Six hous a day at boring jobs
We will REMEMBER it all
And when we sit around sedar tables, amongst
family and friends saying as always "next year in Jerusalem"
we will secretly smile, as we drink our last
glass of wine
thinking of Jaffa Street,And Ben Yehuda, And
of the Old City
And wishing that it could be true
That we could return
To the sounds of summer, and the pounding of
bare feet on Jerusalem Stone
Todd you will always be in our hearts and
memories! We will miss you dearly!
