My name is Sheldon Low.  Yes, it’s really my name.  Yes, it’s really on my birth certificate.  I’m also Jewish.  I’m really proud of who I am and where I come from, even if it took some time for me to be so sure of it.  I grew up in St. Louis, MO by way of Overland Park, KS and spent most of my childhood either in the small towns of Southern Illinois or on a campground in one of our country’s various State or National Parks.  If you were to ask me, I’d say 2% is a very generous figure…

Now I live in a city where there’s a 50/50 chance that someone on the street can even point to Missouri on a map, let alone St. Louis.  Some people would call me a small town guy.  I guess it’s all relative.

Anyway, I just got back from Oklahoma City, OK for the first time.  Up until this weekend, all I knew about OKC was based around the bombing of the Federal Building.

I can remember sitting in my 5th grade social studies class at Solomon Schechter, while Mrs. Bahn read the article she had copied from the newspaper.  I remember then as now, how horrified I was that so many of the victims were children, even babies.  Still, as with all sacred places, the feeling doesn’t resonate quite as clearly until you visit.  Marcy and Louis, who were hosting me, took me on a tour of the area late Monday night so I could see the memorial all lit up.  There are two arches on either side of where the building once stood, and in between, there’s a reflecting pool and an illuminated chair for each of the victims.  It’s really beautiful.

It also turns out that the total Jewish population in OKC is probably equal to the total Jewish population of a few of my blocks.  Ok, maybe it’s not fair to compare number of Okie Jews to number of Upper East Side Jews, but hear me out.  This community had so much, er, uh..community.  It really brought me back to see literally everyone in the community pitching in to help prepare the concert and then dancing together, old, young, friends, strangers, Jews and non-Jews.  Yes, Camp Chaverim is such a great camp that a significant number of campers and staff aren’t even Jewish.  That really says something to me about the community, and about Jewish pride.

If you’re ever in OKC, make sure to stop by Camp Chaverim or at least look up directors Marcy and Pamela for some good old southern hospitality.  You could just take my word for it, but the feeling doesn’t resonate quite as clearly until you visit.

SL

Pizza is quite possibly the best tasting food on the planet.  Don’t get me wrong,  I’m a sucker for Indian, Persian,  Thai,  Mexican,  BBQ…actually, I’m a fan of all things edible.  And New York is the place to be for pizza.  Hadar and I have a ritual of grabbing a pie from Nick’s on the UES every Wednesday night…but as good as it is, the best pizza I’ve had comes from the little town of Carbondale, IL at a little place called Quatro’s.

By itself, the pizza is unbelievable.  The sauce is zippy, the cheese is piled on, and the crust is a perfect combination of crispy on top and chewy on down.  But on a night out with fellow Camp Ben Frankel staff it’s heaven.

I only get back to Carbondale about once a year now, but I always make sure to get my fix.  This year is a bit of an exception because in addition to my concert next Monday, I spent last Shabbat at CBF.

As anyone who has spent a Shabbat at any summer camp knows, camp Shabbat is in of itself unbelievable.  Everyone is dressed up, the Chadar Ochel is decorated, and there’s a tangible spiritual energy in the air.  This year at camp was exceptional.  If the full rainbow and camp-wide “Shabbat Shalom, Sheldon” weren’t enough, the incredible ruach at CBF this year was awe-inspiring.  At CBF,  (pronounced see-baf by those in the know) we are like the Maccabees.  Small but mighty.  Kabbalat Shabbat, led by Jay, was less of a service and more like an ocean of swaying and singing.  Shabbat songsession, led by Ben, Ken, Mollie, Michael, and a slew of other campers come counselors, led to irreparable damage to two of our tables during a raucous Yiddish medley.  I just sat back and smiled.

On my way out of camp on Saturday night, rejuvenated by Shabbat, but heavy hearted by the need to depart, I made sure to assuage my soul with a slice from Quatro’s.  Perfect.

See you at camp!

SL