Day 6 of National Emergency, 3 Weeks Till the Seder

Three weeks from tonight, April 8, Jews will gather for the seminal holiday ritual of their religion. Or will they? While for many of today’s chosen people the seder remains a religious experience, for many others it is a secular reaffirmation of their primal heritage. More Jews gather to attend a seder than congregate for any other religious observance. It is so powerful a symbol that even in Auschwitz Jews assembled to observe the Passover seder.

Religious practice—the comforting rituals that have bound parishioners of all faiths to their chosen deity—has been traumatized by the coronavirus. Decades-, centuries-, even millennia-old protocols have been temporarily shelved as clerical and lay leaders improvise alterations to communal customs and religious ceremonies (https://nyti.ms/2vqXY5Y).

Barring a miracle as equivalent as the series of wonders that preceded the Exodus from Egypt, Jews the world over will celebrate the Passover seder in relative solitude, likely not surrounded by the usual numbers of family and friends for fear of viral transmission, unless they defy government and health authorities to gather in numbers larger than ten. 

(As a point of interest and information, the Torah made provisions for the inability of celebrants to attend a seder at the appointed time. Passover could be observed a month later. Of course, there is no surety the pandemic would be tamed by May 7.) 

My earliest memories of a seder are from my pre-bar mitzvah days. In our two floor row house in Brooklyn my parents would convert the ground floor into an open space with a U-shaped dining table that would seat as many as 40 participants depending on my father’s success in adding guests—second or third cousins, friends from Israel or from the “old country”—to the 18 members of our close relatives, aunts, uncles and cousins. 

Even when the seder moved upstairs to our living room after my bar mitzvah and shrank to a more manageable 25, the seder was a raucous affair. Reading from the Maxwell House haggadah, my father and his brother Willy would drone on in a trope that befuddled my brother, sister and me and anyone else who tried to follow along in Hebrew (no English to be heard except for the chattering among my mother and her three sisters which prompted my father’s repeated appeals for them to be quiet). 

Gilda and I took over seder chores about 30 years ago. By then family togetherness had dissolved. My sister Lee moved to Los Angeles 47 years ago. Her family stays in L.A. for Passover. My brother Bernie’s family kept coming north from Maryland until about 10 years ago. 

For more than 3,000 years Jews—religious and sectarian—have gathered from near and far for a seder meal, a symbol of congealed peoplehood.

Our children and grandchildren have joined us from Massachusetts and Nebraska. But will they this year? Is traveling hundreds of miles by car or plane an essential trip during a pandemic? I just don’t know.

Blame Me for Saturday's Snow and Other Observations

Most of you in the Northeast are probably pretty tired of all the snow this season. I can’t say I’m happy about it but I have to reluctantly acknowledge some responsibility for this weekend’s dumping. You see, snow seems to fall wherever I am when I celebrate the anniversary of my bar mitzvah. 

Even before this February of perpetual snow I could have told you February 21 would be a snow day. February 21 commemorates the Jewish calendar date of my bar mitzvah 53 years ago. The Saturday in Brooklyn in 1962 that I became a man I awoke to snow, maybe three to six inches deep. When I decided to celebrate my bar mitzvah 30 years later in White Plains it snowed 20 inches. 

I had not planned to celebrate my bar mitzvah this year but my brother Bernie intervened. He turns 70 on Tuesday; late last year he decided to commemorate the 57th anniversary of his bar mitzvah on Saturday, February 21. Naturally, Gilda and I traveled down to his home in Rockville, MD, to share the moment, which you might recall from the second paragraph, was actually the true anniversary of my coming of age. Bernie’s real date is next Saturday, but as to why he chose to push up the celebration that’s a story for another time. 

Anyway, snow fell in the Northeast, a dusting in most places except six to 10 inches across the DC metro, where I was, effectively shutting down the region. For those who favor long-term planning for future years, keep in mind my bar mitzvah falls on the portion of the Torah reading titled Terumah (Exodus 25-27). 

Some observations that have been on my mind lately:

New York drivers are becoming more lawless and dangerous. Based on my six times a week drive to and from Manhattan I can report more motorists are going through red lights and more are making left turns from the right lane …

News stations were agog Sunday and Monday with reports the Islamic extremist  group Al Shabaab of Somalia is encouraging attacks on American shopping centers, particularly the Mall of America in Minnesota, similar to what its adherents did at an enclosed mall in Nairobi, Kenya, in 2013. 

Security, naturally, has been heightened, but I wonder if Al Shabaab will pick its targets based on the concealed weapons laws of each state? NRA members no doubt are locking and loading in anticipation of defending the homeland ...

The debate over gay marriage rights elicited a petition against homosexual unions by the Alabama Policy Institute, a group dedicated to “free markets, limited government and strong families,” and the Alabama Citizens Action Program, which promotes an “ethical, moral and responsible lifestyle based on biblical standards.” 

Biblical standards? Does that mean polygamy is okay? Or the public stoning of adulterers? Or arranged marriages only? Or not eating pork? 

Do those groups realize biblical standards often parallel sharia law? 

Exodus: Gods and Kings Is No Bible Movie

Went to see Exodus: Gods and Kings Tuesday. This much I can tell you. Ridley Scott is no Bible thumper. He has created an aspiritual movie. The Ten Commandments is in no danger of being supplanted as the ritual annual viewing. 

Now, I’m not against taking liberties with back stories missing in the Bible. It’s what Jews call midrash. A modern example would be The Red Tent. The story of the rape of Dinah by Shechem was sparse, just a few sentences in Genesis, but Anita Diamant wove a fascinating book, recently made into a Lifetime channel movie, around it.

Scott, however, seems to have chosen to ignore Bible specifics included in the Exodus story and replace them with his own narrative. Perhaps that’s why, unlike Cecil B. DeMille’s Ten Commandments, which sought to authenticate its treatment by citing sources for its interpretation, Exodus: Gods and Kings provides no source base.

Thus Scott presents no public confrontation between Moses and pharaoh, no “let my people go” moment, no exhortation from God. Whereas the Moses of the Bible wielded a staff as an instrument of god, Scott presents a more militant Moses armed with a sword worthy of Excalibur for its ability to imply military leadership.

Moses used that sword to wage (unsuccessful) guerrilla warfare against the food supply of the Egyptian people, hoping to have them pressure pharaoh into letting the Hebrews go.

Did you know that unlike the Bible’s account of Moses instructing his brother Aaron to strike the Nile with his shepherd’s staff to turn its water into blood, Scott resorted to crazed crocodiles attacking fishermen to bloody the waters?

To Scott, God is more of a dialogist inside Moses’ head than a spiritual figure. His appearance as a young boy is an interesting rendition but there is no depth of anger or empathy for what His people, the Hebrews, have endured for 400 years. He makes no effort to convey to pharaoh and the Egyptians that it is by His power and will the plagues are wrought. Rather, God’s plagues seem to be His weapons in a competition with Moses to win the release of the Hebrews through economic calamities.

Bible movies based on stories of the Old Testament have not been religious treatises. The Old Testament can be rather racy at times, an aspect Hollywood has chosen to exploit in movies such as Samson and Delilah and David and Bathsheba. DeMille’s Ten Commandments fabricated sexual tension—Nephretiri sparring with Moses and Ramses, and to a lesser extent the four-way of Lilia, Joshua, Baka and Dathan—to move the story line along. There’s no such tension in Scott’s Exodus. It’s more of an Arnold Schwarzenegger epic complete with iconoclastic sword. 

The Bible has the commandments written by God. Scott has Moses chiseling them while the youthful manifestation of God brings him liquid refreshment in a cup.

As for the parting of the sea, let’s just say Scott did not employ 21st century computer graphics to improve upon DeMille’s fantastical scene.

One thing I will compliment Scott on is his dating of the events. He uses Jewish, not Christian, terminology. The action is said to occur in 1300 BCE—Before the Common Era. Not BC, Before Christ.

Ridley Scott’s movie is no bible story. Perhaps that was evident in the timing of its release. After all, why would a movie about the exodus from Egypt and the institution of the Passover holiday (oops, there’s another thing Scott chose to ignore) be released at Christmas time rather than in the spring, when Passover is celebrated?

Bottom line: For all its flaws, I’m glad I saw the movie. Gilda’s glad she didn’t.

P.S.: One more thing—I get upset when proper grammar is not used. Scott has Ramses saying to Moses, “This has nothing to do with you and I.” 

The object of the preposition “with” should be “you and me,” not “ you and I.” 

P.P.S.: Just back from a Christmas night screening of The Imitation Game, the biopic of Alan Turing’s unlocking the mystery of the Nazi Enigma code machine. Wow, what a picture!

Hooray for ISIS! It's Not What You Think

Lets go ISIS! Before you get all worked up and think I’ve gone over to the dark side, let me assure you I am not advocating for Islamic terrorists. Rather, I am rooting for my latest stock acquisition, Isis Pharmaceuticals (NASDAQ: ISIS).

I was dumbstruck when my broker called four weeks ago suggesting Isis for my portfolio. Who knew there was a drugmaker unfortunate enough to share a name with a most vile organization whose idea of pain relief is to lop off one’s head? Anyway, I trust Annette to do the right thing so I approved the purchase at $49.74 a share. When she called Friday to secure approval for an additional purchase, Isis shares had already jumped to $65.09. 

You can talk to your own financial advisor about Isis, but make sure you note you’re inquiring about the pharmaceutical company, not the Islamic State. 

Gilda and I saw the Stephen Hawking biopic The Theory of Everything last week. Extraordinary performance as Hawking by Eddie Redmayne, but more to the point, how can one not feel inconsequential after seeing Hawking overcome adversity that easily would defeat even the most resilient and strong? Hard to say, “I can’t” after observing his travails and his success.

Speaking of movies, and overcoming troubles, Exodus; Gods and Kings is on my must see list, not because it received great reviews (it didn’t) but rather to see how Hollywood messed with a good (not great) picture, 1956’s The Ten Commandments. As filmdom again has discovered with the less than fanciful new Annie, remakes most often are not worth the updated time and effort (though, to be truthful, the Cecil B. DeMille-Charlton Heston-Yul Brynner Ten Commandments was a talkie version of the director’s 1923 silent screen epic). 

I’ve previously acknowledged my devotion to Davy Crockett so I was thrilled to see Turner Classic Movies, in a deal with Disney, will be airing tonight the Fess Parker Disneyfication of his life. But it will be important to remember some Davy Crockett truths, as reported here some three and a half years ago:

According to a biography by Chris Wallis, Crockett was an illegal immigrant to Texas who wound up at the Alamo not by choice but through assignment by those fomenting rebellion against Mexico, the rightful owner of Texas. 

Though Parker’s portrayed Crockett as humble, Wallis noted he was not above self-promotion, even attending a play about his exploits. 

Crockett was sympathetic to Native Americans, but apparently not to the plight of Afro-Americans. He served two terms in the U.S. Congress, only to be swept out of office after he broke with President Andrew Jackson for the latter’s treatment of the Cherokee Nation and their forced removal from Tennessee land granted them by treaty. 

Crockett went to Mexico-owned Texas to help American settlers who wanted to build plantations worked by slaves. Only trouble is, Mexico did not permit slavery. At age 49, Crockett died at the Alamo in San Antonio. He did not choose to go to the Alamo. He had joined the local militia and had been assigned to defend the mission. 

Sticking to the entertainment theme, the literary world and by extension the film and TV industries are lucky the Internet wasn’t around 150 or 100 or even 50 years ago. Otherwise, we might not have the spy novels of John LeCarre who demonized the Russian KGB. Or we wouldn’t have Charlie Chaplin’s 1940 spoof of Hitler, The Great Dictator. Or the 1939 Warner Bros. flick, Confessions of a Nazi Spy. 

Those books and movies, and many, many more would not have been produced and distributed if executives followed Sony’s example of acquiescence to North Korea’s demand to shelve The Interview, a farce about an assassination plot against the country’s leader. 

Yes, Sony has been damaged by North Korea’s violation of Sony’s Internet integrity. But giving in to North Korea damages our collective freedom. What is to stop Pakistan, upset by its Homeland portrayal as being complicit with Taliban attacks, from issuing a similar demand to Showtime and its cable partners? 

And where do the threats end? Can North Korea effectively blacklist The Interview stars Seth Rogen and James Franco from any other movie project, for any other studio? With so many action films and video games depicting Muslims as the enemy, could Arab states threaten retaliation, economic if not physical?

North Korea threatened a violent response to any airing of The Interview. But if we have learned anything from 9-11 and its aftermath, it is that our best response to such threats is to go about our normal business and way of life. Be cautious, but do not cower. Stay away from the movie theater, if you so choose, but that choice should be made by everyone individually, not collectively on our behalf by a corporation. 

American policy has been not to negotiate with terrorists, with hostage takers. North Korea took all of our minds and freedom hostage, and for now, has won.

Predictions Come True

I warned you the day before the election last week we were on the cusp of the inauguration of the 2016 presidential campaign. If you took my warning to heart you would not be too depressed by the insipid chatter from pundits already handicapping the race four years hence. They’ve conducted polls—Hillary and Mike Huckabee are frontrunners of their respective parties. 

Personally, I like Stephen Colbert’s idea. Let’s not spend time on 2016. Tuesday night Colbert zeroed in on the 2072 election, a contest he said would be between Robo-Cheney and a swarm of sentient nano hornets. He did not predict the winner.

Hornets. Seems Tuesday was a big hornets day for me. Earlier, in Bible class (Exodus 23:28), hornets were part of God’s arsenal in support of the Israelites’ conquest of the land of Canaan (“And I will send the hornet before thee, which shall drive out the Hivite, the Canaanite, and the Hittite, from before thee”). 

Last week’s post on the election also contained a tongue-in-cheek suggestion that the United States bifurcate itself into Blue and Red State countries. Seems I wasn’t the only one thinking along those lines. The Huffington Post reported residents of 42 states have submitted petitions to secede from the Union. Here’s the list: Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Nevada, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Virginia, West Virginia, Wisconsin and Wyoming.

The list included Blue and Red States. Maybe we are making progress toward thinking alike.

While we’re on the subject of the election, I wonder if you noticed an article in the business section of The NY Times the other day. It dealt with patent law and the problems American companies have protecting their unique products. Here’s how The Times described the article: “Sears, which sold many Bionic Wrenches last holiday season, is selling a similar product (the Max Axess) this year — only now it is made in China instead of America.”  

You can read the full article by linking here (http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/09/business/popular-wrench-fights-a-chinese-rival.html), but the real meat of the story came near the end. Here are two telling paragraphs:

“The company that makes the Max Axess wrench and other tools for Craftsman, the Apex Tool Group, is being acquired by Bain Capital, the company founded by Mitt Romney, in a $1.6 billion deal.

“Throughout the presidential campaign, Bain was criticized on the grounds that it encouraged outsourcing by companies it buys at the expense of American workers. Apex makes many of its tools overseas. A company spokesman referred all questions to Sears.”

Romney hasn’t run Bain Capital since 1999, but his management philosophy of outsourcing American jobs is enshrined in that company. 

And remember my cautionary advice last week about buying cars from the flooded areas. Well, there's been a slew of warnings from attorneys general and consumer protection officials about cars with engines flooded not just by Hurricane Sandy but also by storms and floods in other parts of the country (dealerships across state lines have been known to swap swamped autos). So be wary out there. 

If Someone Comes to Kill You ...

Most Tuesday mornings from October through early June I participate in a Bible study class at our temple. We’re making our way through Exodus this year. Part of today’s lesson from chapter 22 of Exodus dealt with the concept of self-defense. If a home invasion happens when it is light, it is not permissible to kill the intruder as it is presumed he would flee or surrender if discovered. However, if a thief enters a home at night, a resident may kill the intruder with impunity as it may be presumed the criminal would have had murderous intent if confronted. 

This reasoning led to a long-accepted rabbinic maxim, “He who comes to kill you, kill him first.” 

Today, June 5, was a most appropriate time to consider this precept. It is the 45th anniversary of the Six Day War, Israel’s pre-emptive strike on Egypt and Syria. (Interestingly and coincidentally, today the United States confirmed Al-Qaeda’s second in command had been killed Monday, presumably in a drone attack inside Pakistan.)

The 1967 crisis in the Middle East had been building for months. Egypt expelled United Nations peacekeepers who guarded the Sinai border with Israel. It closed the Straits of Tiran to ships bound for Eilat. A blockade is considered an act of war. Arab countries vowed to drive Israelis into the sea, to dismember the Jewish state. 

Jews the world over feared another Holocaust. Anyone with relatives or friends in Israel were doubly worried. My sister, Lee, was in Israel, studying at Hebrew University. For the last few weeks she had been packing crackers for army rations. 

Monday morning, June 5, 1967, I drove from our parents’ home to Brooklyn College, taking up my usual position at the Knight House “fraternity” table in the Boylan Hall cafeteria. Around 10, word started to trickle in that war had broken out. This was not the era of instant worldwide communications, of CNN or cell phones, of 24-hour news cycles. Israel controlled the dissemination of news from its territory. In those first, terrifying, stomach-churning hours, the only reports we heard were those coming from Egypt, communiqués about Arab troops advancing on Tel Aviv, of Zionists falling in a jihad of epic proportions.

It was not until well into the afternoon or early evening that the true picture of the day’s events became known. The startling revelation of Israel’s air power superiority, coupled with its armored division successes, exceeded even the most optimistic expectations of the 19-year-old country’s supporters. 

Sometimes it is hard for contemporary observers to fully comprehend the fragility of Israel’s existence. From being considered a David facing the Arab Goliath in 1967, the roles have been reversed in the ensuing 45 years. Yet even today a visitor to Israel cannot be anything but wary when hostile borders surround the state, which is but a speck of green in an otherwise sandy expanse. Artillery fire could easily reach Israel’s population centers back in 1967. As it can today. It’s too much to expect friendly neighbors. Secure, peaceful borders, however, are legitimate demands. But if one side is still determined to annihilate you, rising up early to kill them is not just a biblical injunction, it’s a present day imperative. 

The Oy Factor

During her time with us last week Ellie noticed what she says is a disturbing habit of mine—almost all of my morning movements are accompanied by moans or “oys.”

Now, anyone who knows me well knows I “complain” a lot about my physical infirmities. If asked how I’m feeling, I invariably respond with the truth, the full truth. Any aches or pains are catalogued in vivid detail. Hey, if you don’t want to know, don’t ask. I won’t be offended if you don’t ask. But if you do ask, don’t be offended if I respond to your innocent inquiry under the belief you really do care about me.

Oy, or ugh, conveys more in one syllable than any full-throated sentence. You can look up what oy means. But until you’ve lived with me you will not appreciate what Gilda (and for a week, Ellie) goes through daily.


Exodus Redux: Now there arose a new king over Egypt, who knew not Joseph.—Exodus 1:8

How poignantly wondrous that the overthrow of a modern day Egyptian dictator occurred just weeks after the annual synagogue Torah readings of the exodus of the Israelites from bondage and the vanquishing of Pharaoh’s army at the Sea of Reeds.

Several friends sent along a short joke making the Internet rounds—"Israel to Egypt: do not destroy those pyramids. We will not rebuild!”

Cute, but not historically accurate. Jewish slaves built the Coliseum in Rome, but not the pyramids in Egypt. The pyramids are believed to have been erected hundreds of years before Jacob and his clan made their way south to Egypt during the famine Joseph forecast when interpreting the dreams of Pharaoh. The Bible recounts how the enslaved children of Israel built the store cities of Pithom and Raamses. No mention of any pyramids.

After the exodus, the Israelites had few military entanglements with Egypt until the modern era, until 1948. Since the Camp David Accords were signed in 1978, a fragile peace has existed between Israel and Egypt, a peace reaffirmed for the present by the Egyptian military now in control. What could have been 30 years of tranquility and prosperity devolved under Hosni Mubarak into 30 years of repression and economic stagnation for the masses in Egypt while the elite grew fat. Israel, meanwhile, prospered, becoming a high-tech beacon.

The world, and especially Israel, trembles while it awaits the evolution of the Egyptian revolution and its impact on the Middle East. Will future Egyptian leaders choose continued peace or a return to a belligerency that sapped the country of its pride and youth?


Grandpa Who? I slowly made my way up the stairs from the garage Friday evening. Finley heard my footsteps. As he does with most visitors, he smiled in anticipation. But upon deeper observation of my bearded countenance, he grimaced and cried. In the near two months since we last saw each other, he had virtually forgotten me.

While he instantly re-bonded with Gilda and played with her, he’d warily look towards me from across the room. I figured the best course of action was to bide my time. It was hard waiting for my turn. By the next day Finley was more comfortable with me. He’d bring books over to read, but stayed for just one page. I didn’t take it personally. Even his mother could get him to sit still for just one page at a time.

By the end of our visit on Sunday he’d come full circle and even let me butt heads with him when we departed, our signature good-bye ritual. Our next time together is Passover in April. Two long months from now. Too long a time.

Baby Doc and the Bible

After 25 years in exile, “Baby Doc” Jean-Claude Duvalier returned to Haiti to expected jeers and some unexpected cheers. Look no further than the Bible to explain why a ruthless dictator might be more acceptable to some than the current tenuous conditions on the Caribbean island.

“Haiti has never had the perfect leader,” said Bernadette Brudet. “Many of them were corrupt. Many of them have blood on their hands. But with Duvalier, we were safe, and our stomachs were full.”

Compare those comments from an ordinary citizen of Haiti in a NY Times story (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/19/world/americas/19haiti.html?_r=1&hp) to Exodus 16, verse 3, when food is scarce in the Sinai desert: “The Israelites said to them (Moses and Aaron), ‘If only we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots, when we ate our fill of bread.’”

Just weeks earlier, days after witnessing the Ten Plagues wrought upon the Egyptians and their escape from bondage, the Israelites questioned the wisdom of their predicament. Camped by the Sea of Reeds, with Pharaoh’s army approaching, the former slaves complained to Moses, “What have you done to us, taking us out of Egypt? Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, saying, ‘Let us be, and we will serve the Egyptians, for it is better to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness’?” (Exodus 14:11-12). As seen from the prior quote, even the subsequent parting of the sea and the drowning of Pharaoh’s army could not alter their mental attachment to a life of servitude and obedience.

Whether you believe the Bible is divinely written or inspired, there’s no disputing it is magnificent literature with unequalled narratives of human drama, frailty, emotions and conflict.

Let’s face it. When confronted with challenges of the moment, it’s human nature to pine for a past perceived to be more benevolent, more passive, more orderly. It’s human nature to long for the “good old days.” Many Russians fondly recall life under communism. Iraqis reminisce about the “tranquility” and economic vibrancy of the Saddam years.

In America, there’s always a fringe who wish for the nostalgic days of the past. Which time do they want to go back to? The 1930s and the Depression? The 1940s and World War II? The 1950s with the Cold War and thoughts of nuclear destruction? The 1960s with battles over desegregation, Vietnam and awakening social and sexual revolutions?

Haitians truly have little to make today’s existence feel like a blessing. Perhaps, in some small way, it can be understood why some would look to Baby Doc for a return to “normalcy.” A quarter of a century has passed without him, yet their country is no better. Even before last year’s earthquake, Haiti was the poorest of nations.

It’s harder to understand why anyone would want to return to the past in the United States. We have a social network system that tries to provide for the needy; a health care system that tries to comfort and heal the fallen; an infrastructure that, though in need of repair, still is the envy of most of the world; a system of government that permits dissent without fear and accommodates orderly transitions of power; an education system, also in need of repair, but still first class for those who desire to use it to full advantage; more food and consumer goods than most of the rest of the world, combined.

The reverse time-travelers would like to go back to an era of less government regulation and involvement in everyday life. But even in the Bible, freedom from slavery came with acceptance of a code of laws that restricted behavior and imposed communal obligations, including wealth (land) redistribution every 50 years.

Baby Doc. Pharaoh. Saddam. Stalin. Tyrants come and go. Human nature stays the same.

Remembering An Icon

I woke up Sunday morning to the news another part of my youth had passed away.

Lonny Benamy was an iconic figure at Camp Columbia and Kfar Masada, two eight week sleep-away camps in upstate New York where I spent my teenage years. Lonny died Sunday morning after a four year bout with cancer.

I first met Lonny in 1962. I was 13, Lonny 18. He was the nature counselor, but to the urbanized (read that, sheltered) Jewish boys and girls of Brooklyn and Queens who mostly populated summer camp, he was the the flesh and blood image of Ari Ben Canaan of Exodus. Or more precisely, he was our Paul Newman, with wavy brown hair, piercing eyes, bronzed suntan and khaki shorts rolled up high on the thigh like any good Sabra would wear. He drove the camp’s red Jeep. He wasn’t afraid to play with snakes. He had a devilish grin, not too dissimilar from that of Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Naturally, he also wielded a big hunting knife.

As I matriculated from camper to waiter and counselor with off-site days-off privileges, I aspired like everyone else to be chosen for one of the five passenger seats in Lonny’s 1956 Buick. As one of his fellow Saturday afternoon volleyball enthusiasts, I was fortunate to secure a coveted spot most of the time when our six days off coincided. Those excursions were among the most memorable days of the summer.

Riding with Lonny on the narrow, winding upstate roadways was an adventure. You never knew when he might suddenly swerve. If his eagle eyes caught sight of a woodchuck, he’d do his darndest to run it over. Perhaps that’s what they taught him about farm pest control at Cornell’s College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. In his pre-seat belt car, it was everyone’s not so silent prayer that woodchucks stay invisible when Lonny drove by.

It was with Lonny I first went to the track, Monticello Raceway. After a day bumming around town, perhaps visiting other Jewish camps to drop in on friends, we’d get to the racetrack parking lot shortly before the 8 pm post-time. As we were still dressed in shorts, we’d jump out of the car and change into pants as fast as we could. There were no inhibitions when Lonny was around. There also was no guarantee I’d make it inside the harness racing track, as I was just 16 that first time. But with Lonny running interference, I made it through the gate. Making it back to camp by the midnight curfew was another form of racing. We’d stay at the track till nearly 11. The ride back to Elizaville was about an hour, mostly with no other cars on the road, and thankfully, with no woodchucks crossing our path.

In August, once Saratoga Racetrack opened, we’d go north, first to Lake George for some motorboating, then back down to Saratoga for the afternoon races. For Saratoga we had to bring along some decent clothing, as the meal at night invariably was at Tradewinds, a white tablecloth restaurant on Route 9 sitting by itself at the southern entrance to downtown Saratoga Springs. Fortunately, the trips to Saratoga came after Parents Visiting Day, so our wallets bulged with tip money. I’ve been back to Saratoga many times in the last 10 years. Tradewinds has long since closed. Its location is surrounded now by other restaurants and a Hilton Garden Inn hotel. I’ve eaten at the restaurant that took over the Tradewinds’ spot. The food is not as good.

As I sat at Lonny’s funeral service on Coney Island Avenue in Brooklyn, across the street from Yeshivah of Flatbush founded by Lonny’s uncle, Joel Braverman (Lonny was a biology teacher and the head of discipline for the high school—my alma mater—now located a few blocks away on Avenue J and East 16th St.), I reflected on another friend’s passing, another alumnus of Camp Columbia and Kfar Masada. Michael Lauchheimer died 20 years ago, Oct 4, 1990. Like my relationship with Lonny, it started out as camper and counselor. I was one of Michael’s counselors. When we met again some 10 years later, my daughter and his older son were in the same class at Solomon Schechter. We were now equals and became close friends. Like Lonny, Michael died during the Jewish holiday of Sukkot. One of the most joyful of holidays has become tinged again with sadness.