Make New Friends, But Keep the Old.

“Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold. “

We might learn that rhyme in nursery school, but it transcends our whole lives. This past weekend, Camp Matoaka in Oakland, Maine kicked off its 60th anniversary with a fabulous reunion. Huge thanks to Jason and Leslie Silberman, the camp directors, and Wendy Berliner, the assistant director, for spoiling us and helping us rekindle camp life even for a few days. I also want to send an even bigger thanks to the people who attended, without whom there would not have been a reunion… without whom there would not have been Camp Matoaka.

Granted, I know that everyone who attended camp didn’t love it. And I also realize that every moment of every day wasn’t all sunshiny bright. But we tend to forget the negative, or at least push it to the back burner, when there are so many good things to remember. I attended Matoaka from 1974 – 1983. Many things have stayed the same, and there are also new traditions, as I think should happen.

When we set foot onto the campus, we became Camp Matoaka girls again. I met campers who attended twenty years before I did and twenty years after I did. No matter how old or for how many years we attended, all of those years melded together. We were all the same. We all turned back time, and time stood still.

The campus is in tremendous shape thanks to the directors and staff, who have, over the years, continuously improved upon the facilities. But what puts the Magic in the “Matoaka Magic” is the people. On one level, it felt like we had never left. We played tennis, went sailing and horseback riding, swam, water skied, and challenged ourselves on the ropes course. We slept in the bunks and hung our bathing suits on the line outside. We talked about stuff… girl stuff. It was as if nothing had changed.

On another level, some of us hadn’t seen friends for 20-30 years, and we delved into what was happening in each other’s lives. Although we sat in the same space where we existed as campers, we were talking about spouses and children and adult issues. Although we were not campers anymore, for just a couple of days, we could be campers again.

Just like old times, as soon as our bottoms hit the benches at dinner, the singing started. Back in the day, we used to sing so much and so loudly, we’d get hoarse. I will admit, I got choked up when the songs and cheers began. My mind raced back to the 1970s, and I was a camper again. I saw Uncle Joe and Aunt Midge (Nathanson, the founders and first owners of the camp), I saw the room as it was. I heard the songs as they had been sung. When I pulled myself together, I started to sing and realized the words easily flowed out of my mouth.




Camp was a time to learn about community, about ourselves and about sharing. We used our bodies and our minds. We learned about being girls. Speaking for myself, I learned that I could be away from my parents for an extended period of time and be more than okay. I took risks. I tried new things. I developed a style and a being. I formed everlasting friendships and memories. Without a doubt, I would not be the same person I am today had I not attended Camp Matoaka.

Now, I am in my reality at home with my family, remembering the weekend through pictures and conversations. This feeling will linger for a while and will become part of the box of camp memories. Thanks to the phone, email, snail mail and Facebook, we are able to stay in touch and keep the Matoaka Magic alive.


As Michael Nathanson, Uncle Joe and Aunt Midge’s eldest son and second director of Camp Matoaka said, “Camp Matoaka provided the place, the Nathansons provided the opportunity. But it was always you girls who provided the abundance of SP-IR-IT, and for that we will always love you all!"

"Make new friends, but keep the old..." To me, they’re both gold.

Bobby Sherman, I'll miss you

At 7:45 am on November 17, I received a call from my cousin, Randy. My cousin, Randy’s brother, Bobby Sherman, passed away in a car accident last night. Bobby lived in Virginia Beach, VA. He was 55 years young. In addition to Randy, he left a sister-in-law, Roberta, long-time girlfriend, Lynn, and many friends and family members. My father grew up as Bobby and Randy’s Uncle Lee. Bobby and he were close. They remained close to this day. My father had spoken with Bobby just two days ago. My father has said my son, Ari, reminds him of the way Bobby was as a little boy. Smart, precocious, always with some plan of action.



After hearing the news, I was shocked. I cried. Several memories ripped through my mind. The first one was when Bobby accompanies me on the piano at my wedding as I sang a song to my new husband. “What am I playing,” he said. “What I told you on the phone,” I answered.

Bobby was a child prodigy on the piano. He played by ear since the age of three. My father tells the story that when he would practice, he hated to read notes. They slowed him down. So, when his mother, my Aunty Florence, heard him going a mile-a-minute on the piano, she would yell out (in a lovely Southern drawl),”Bobby, read the notes! When he got older, he attended the Juilliard School and became a concert pianist. Brilliant. He later went into his family’s furniture business. Long story.
Another memory was simply when we’d get together, which wasn’t too often, I loved to hear him call my father Uncle Lee and my mother Aunty Pearl in his adorable Southern drawl. He called me darlin’. When he and a piano were in the same room, a sing-a-long was sure to ensue. He was very lovable and welcoming.

Bobby won’t be at a family Bar Mitzvah in January. Randy has lost his mother, his father and now his brother. Lynn has lost a best friend, companion and lover. And I am sad for my father. He won’t be able to call him by phone anymore. My father lost a nephew many years ago from a motorcycle accident. He always hated motorcycles after that. I am sure he won’t stop driving, but it will certainly make him and all of us a bit more alert on the road, at least for a little while.

I have spoken with a couple of cousins. We are still processing this. We know some of the story, but we’ll never know the rest of the story. What was he thinking about right before the crash? Was he alive at all after the crash? If so, for how long? I hope he didn’t suffer.

We all have those family members or friends with whom we don’t speak often, but we know “is there.” Maybe we get an update from others. Maybe we call once in a while. We exchange holiday cards and make sure things are ok.

Then, that person isn’t there anymore. Would I have done something differently if I had known? It’s not a fair question. Will I now contact more friends and family more regularly? I might. It seems cruel to say, but life goes on. Bobby would want it that way. Bobby was a free spirit. He didn’t like to “read the notes.”

Bobby, we will miss you.

Friends

I was thinking about how we have different categories of friends. At any time, one friend may become more important in our lives. And that can change at any time and for any length of time. We have friends at work with whom we communicate, gossip, and maybe socialize. I love my colleagues at Schwartz Communications (http://www.schwartz-pr.com/).






After 12 years here, I have met many fascinating, smart and interesting people. I have made a lot of friends. I don’t socialize much outside of Schwartz with my “work friends,” although I do not discourage that in the least. Then there are neighbor friends. We have lived in Ashland for nine years and are fortunate to have a number of friendly neighbors. The people who live across the street have two boys, so that works for my son. But we don’t go out with them. Our next door neighbors are also wonderful people. Ari plays with their son, but we don’t seem to socialize with them outside of neighborhood events, such as sledding or standing at the busstop. Then, we have friends through our children. But for the most part, the parents speak during drop-off. Sometimes we stay and talk.

We have a number of friends through our synagogue, Temple Israel of Natick.




One could say that everyone at the Temple is our friend, but we do not get together socially with all of them. Another category is our long-time friends – those whom we have known since childhood, through school, as a couple. Many of these friends aren’t on the primary radar anymore for such reasons as location and schedules, and the fact that other friends are more prominent in our lives now. But we stay in touch through holiday cards, email, phone and letters (yes, the thing you use with a stamp and put in the mailbox) when we can. I might also mention those friends who aren’t friends anymore. They simply dropped from your radar. Is there anyone in that category with whom you’d like to connect?

So, what is the point? Friends are important. The saying goes: “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold.” Not sure about the silver and gold, but I like the beginning. It is hard to stay in touch with all of your friends all of the time.

But isn’t it great to hear from someone out of the blue? Why don’t you call a friend you haven’t seen or heard from in a while. He/she might move to a new category.