Jonah

“Summer Camp” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2015. Throughout June and July 2015, we’ll be remembering — through the writing of his friends as well as some who watched from the sidelines — experiences, both great and small, that were part of Jonah’s seventeen years (from age 1 to 18) at the URJ Kutz Camp in Warwick, NY. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us help Kutz continue its wildly successful work of helping teens blaze a summer’s path to a whole, healthy life. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org. Thank you. You’re the best!

Dan Reichenbach remembers …

Dan and his papa

Dan Reichenbach made aliyah to Israel in 2012, completing his army service six months ago.  These days, life is filled with work at a bar on the beach, reserve duty, and plans for returning to school next year. 

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My memories of Jonah are fleeting and rose-colored, yet substantial. At 25, my summers with Jonah seem far off and distant. However, I am reminded of him often, in so many ways. When I see tall evergreens, or when I play the ukulele, or when someone quotes Monty Python. My mind’s eye pictures Jonah lying underneath the tree on Olim Hill at Eisner Camp, the sun on his face and a clump of soft grass in his hand — because those were the happiest times in my life, and I was fortunate to share them with him.

I never got to know Maccabee, as Jonah was fond of being called; rather, I knew the little Jonah Dreskin. He was a good friend in my teenage years, but he was my fellow “fac brat” (Faculty kid) and my closest friend during the summers we shared at Kutz. As young boys we would spend all day together. From chasing each other underneath the tables in the Chadar Ochel, to flopping around in the pool, smiles on our faces, Jonah and I made names for ourselves as rowdy, sometimes mischievous children at camp.

I vividly remember spending long, lazy days with Jonah, wandering all over Kutz Camp which, at the time, seemed as massive as a continent because we were so small and the world was so big. We would roll down the hill to the Teatron (the theatre), then hop up the concrete wall and push open the big stage doors. We liked to hang out in the Teatron because it was cool and a breeze rolled in off the lake. There were interesting things to see and play with. Here, a bat would swoop down. There, a snapping turtle just raised its head! Over there, the benches made for a perfect obstacle course. We would fish and catch frogs and swim and we loved life. We had wonderful parents and families and a whole camp of people who took care of us, more or less letting us run amok. Camp was paradise for us boys in those days and I think fondly of them when current days are filled with clouds.

This is one of those memories:

One day, Jonah and I had finished eating our lunch, which was of course famous Kutz camp pizza and chocolate pudding. Filled with sugar and imagination, Jonah and I took off before anyone could get a handle on what we were up to. We ran downstairs and past the canteen to the pool and tennis courts. After chasing a lizard or two around for a few minutes, our attentions were brought skyward, and here is my most vivid memory of Jonah: the two of us climbing into the high branches of the evergreens that grew on the far side of the tennis courts. It is a beautiful moment from my childhood. I remember seeing Jonah through the branches and smelling the trees sticky sap. I will never forget the wonder of that moment, just how lost we were in the climb. We were living life over the brim, and I can never go back and tell him how much it meant to me. I remember being scared to come down and not being alone in my fear. We were stuck up there for what to a five- or six-year old seemed like hours but in reality was probably only a few minutes.

Memories of those long, lazy, magical days with Jonah at Kutz and Eisner fill me with happiness. We could not possibly have been luckier. Sitting on the front porch of the Dreskin family cabin eating ice pops and looking at ants, I remember sharing with Jonah and being teased by our older siblings. I remember Jonah putting his long arm around my shoulder, as he always did, and ushering me into our next secret mission, our next game of tag, and our next cannonball.

Little Dan on patrol in his early-Kutz days

Ours was a childhood of bliss. And I will cherish those memories forever, because we had loving parents and siblings and a community saturated with love and kindness. I am a better man because of the time I spent with Jonah, and I miss him terribly even now. One more jam session on the guitars, and one more late night playing Magic cards on our bunk beds, one more serious talk about Rachel or Sarah or Hannah, whichever girl was breaking our hearts that summer — these are all things I wish I still had. But I do have my memories and they are sweet. His memory is truly a blessing to me.

“Won’t you help to sing, these songs of freedom? Cuz’ all I’ve ever had, Redemption songs.”

Dan

Do you have a memory of Jonah at Kutz? Share it as a comment below. And please donate to our “Summer Camp ‘15″ campaign at jonahmac.org/donate. Thanks!

“Summer Camp” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2015. Throughout June and July 2015, we’ll be remembering — through the writing of his friends as well as some who watched from the sidelines — experiences, both great and small, that were part of Jonah’s seventeen years (from age 1 to 18) at the URJ Kutz Camp in Warwick, NY. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us help Kutz continue its wildly successful work of helping teens blaze a summer’s path to a whole, healthy life. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org. Thank you. You’re the best!

Sonia Wilk remembers …

Sonia Wilk was born and raised in Clearwater, Florida. Passionate about her NFTY-STR region, it informed a great deal of her Jewish identity and lead her to spend five transformational summers at Kutz Camp (2006-2010). For many years, Sonia considered herself a professional wanderer and has lived all over the country and the world, “collecting experiences,” learning, and teaching. Along the way, she figured out that what really makes her heart sing is education; specifically, through a Jewish, experiential lens. For work, she learns and shares the wisdom of the Jewish tradition and its connection to the land with day school students throughout the country. When she’s not out discovering new wonders of the natural world or chasing groups of kids up mountains, Sonia can often be found lying in a hammock or spending time with her bird, Emunah (sometimes simultaneously). She is honored to have come from the roots of the Reform Movement, and the lessons she learned at camp have helped to inform and guide her into the world as a professional Jewish educator.

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When I think of my time spent at Kutz with Jonah, a few memories come to mind.

My first memory is a camping trip we shared during the first summer of the Teva major. During that trip, we played a lot of games, sang a lot of songs, and explored a lot of nature together. I remember meals when we were on chopping duty and some card games I hadn’t yet learned but were quickly taught to me by Jonah. Our big day of the trip was “rapids” rafting down a river. However, the river that day was calmer than the Lazy River at an amusement park. So the day involved lots of sitting around in our rafts and hanging out. I wasn’t in the same boat as Jonah, which meant a few things. One, that when our rafts did meet up on the river, there was lots of pushing each other into the water, which resulted in a small, loving war with lots of splashing and (eventually) all of us getting soaked from head to toe. And two, once we were back from our adventures of moseying down the river, there was a little something extra that united everyone who’d ridden in Jonah’s boat. As you can tell from the picture, their thighs became sunburnt to a very bright red! All that sitting (in between the splashing) gave the sun unhindered access to a part of the body that rarely receives sunscreen. It was pretty funny to see how much he and his comrades could “milk” sympathy for their very, very red skin.

Another memory is brief but enduring. During one of our first programs that summer (and honestly, I can’t remember what the program or the point was … maybe an opening that was used as an analogy to something about leadership), Mike and Shelly, who were leading it, selected Jonah and me to “take down” Mike. Well there we both were, in front of all of camp, trying to wrestle with the Assistant Director. I think that the photograph I have of this is one of my very favorite pictures with Jonah. Notice our creativity in the way we worked together to “take down the Man.” Jonah and I spent a lot of time that summer feeling really bonded over having had the chance to formally tackle Mike Fuld. Or, at least, to try.

My third memory recalls an annual Kutz tradition of having the option to stay awake an entire night in the Beit Am. If, however, you started falling asleep, you’d be sent back to your cabin. To stave off slumber, we held many impromptu dance parties and even an “open mic” session that continued until sunrise. I remember having been so impressed by Jonah’s ability to time his performances so that they occurred when we most desperately needed a pick-me-up. His rendition of “Making a Motzi” was one that he expertly performed, got all of us back on our feet, and is a memory I think of with a smile just before making a Motzi each Shabbat.

One last memory is of the summer when Jonah rarely appeared without a Rubik’s Cube in his hands. His skill at solving it was extremely advanced, and he would often hand you a Cube to scramble and then time how long it took for him to solve it. But even more than that, he was great at teaching others how to solve the Cube. My sister was one of his students, and later she taught me. Jonah’s sharing of his knowledge and passion created a domino effect; that love and kindness which emanated from him would spread to further than he likely realized.

Jonah and Sonia (Kutz 2008)

That was Jonah. Mischief maker, brother in battle, teacher, and friend, whose goodness and influence, freely given, touched more lives in his nineteen years than many of us do in ninety.

Sonia

Do you have a memory of Jonah at Kutz? Share it as a comment below. And please donate to our “Summer Camp ‘15″ campaign at jonahmac.org/donate. Thanks!

“Summer Camp” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2015. Throughout June and July 2015, we’ll be remembering — through the writing of his friends as well as some who watched from the sidelines — experiences, both great and small, that were part of Jonah’s seventeen years (from age 1 to 18) at the URJ Kutz Camp in Warwick, NY. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us help Kutz continue its wildly successful work of helping teens blaze a summer’s path to a whole, healthy life. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org. Thank you. You’re the best!

Billy Dreskin remembers …

Unlike Jonah’s early years at Kutz – when I would get him up in the morning, see him bounding across camp many times throughout the day, and put him to bed at night – once he became an actual program participant at age 15, I mostly lost sight of and contact with him. He was busy living the life of a Kutz camper which, if you ask anyone who’s ever been one, is one of life’s greatest states of being (with little, if any, time for something so mundane as a parent). So I had to rely on reports both public and covert (I know people!) to understand what he was up to there (even though I was living only a few hundred yards from where emerged his greatest stories of mischief – more on that from his friends in future postings).

In 2007, all of that changed for a brief while when Jonah signed up for one of my classes. Stunned, and nervous at the prospect of having to prove myself not only as dad but as rabbi and teacher, I wasn’t sure if this was such a good idea. But it turned out magnificently. I was teaching a class on storytelling, and how to meaningfully weave narratives into larger presentations.

Jonah was a clown, to be sure. Ask anyone who knew him and they’ll tell you how often he made people laugh. So of course I was fearful that all he would do (when I would be attempting to teach something to my students) is make people laugh. But Jonah had a very special soul. Frankly, I don’t understand how he was able to do this in front of his friends, but he always listened to what I had to say, contributed thoughtful ideas to our conversations, and only clowned around at brief and appropriate moments. No, there was no exchange of gifts or money under cover of night.

Our final project was to use storytelling during a Friday evening service to interpret and introduce some of the prayers. Jonah introduced Alenu, a prayer that asserts the responsibility we have to proclaim the One God of all. This can be a difficult and divisive piece of liturgy, as some believe it acknowledges Judaism as being superior to all other religions. Jonah would never have volunteered to introduce Alenu if he felt that was what it really meant.

As serious a pose as you could get from Jonah (Kutz 2007)

It took a bit of detective work to locate the story Jonah used for his introduction, but I was able to do so with the help of Mark Pelavin, Chief Program Officer of the URJ. At that time, Mark was Associate Director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism and he gave a d’rash at the Saturday morning service that weekend on the theme of social justice, during which he said, “Part of our work as Jews, our part of the partnership with God which Jonah Dreskin spoke about last night, is to be among its repairers.” Oh, if I could only remember the story Jonah told. But alas, Mark’s words couldn’t nail it for me.

Shortly after Jonah’s death in 2009, when I was scurrying around trying to collect and preserve as many memories of Jonah’s life as I possibly could, I asked Mark if perhaps he remembered what story Jonah had used that evening. Mark said he was sorry but that he couldn’t. He then reminded me that the service that Friday evening had been notable for the number of participants who had walked out in protest because it wasn’t traditional enough for them. For both Mark and myself, Jonah’s words, spoken in the midst of harsh and angry actions, had provided an important moment of affirmation, reminding us that teens care deeply about what’s going on in their lives, and they often act boldly in response. Mark told me, “I do remember being moved by [Jonah’s story], that it was [a] bright spot in what I found to be a [difficult] evening.”

Eventually, I located some notes from that evening which revealed to me that this was the story Jonah had shared:

The young boy was on his way to Sunday school. His mother had given him two dimes: one for ice cream, and the other for a donation. As he walked along, one dime fell into the sewer. “Oh, God,” he exclaimed, “there goes Your dime!”

Jonah’s point, which both Mark and I appreciated, was that Alenu describes Judaism’s hope that, one day, all people will share a belief in the One God of the universe. Our religious customs and rites may reach out to that God in vastly differing ways, but our visions and dreams ought one day be the same; namely, one family of humankind united in understanding, acceptance and peace.

It was a pretty powerful message from such a silly story. “Silly” was something I got often from Jonah. I rarely witnessed Jonah doing stuff that showed he was growing up. This was one of those moments and I was lucky to have been present when he shared his “big idea” with the community.

Kutz Camp is an extraordinary place for a teen to do important work toward growing into adulthood. The intellectual, spiritual and communal challenges placed before each participant provide them with abundant opportunities to move their lives forward.

5 Dreskins (Kutz 2007)

As Jonah’s dad who simultaneously served as a member of the Kutz teaching faculty, I received a very rare and wonderful opportunity to witness my little boy growing up into a man. While Jonah’s young death certainly limited the number of memories I get to have of him, those weeks we spent together at Kutz will forever remain among my most precious and very favorite memories of all.

Billy

Do you have a memory of Jonah at Kutz? Share it as a comment below. And please donate to our “Summer Camp ‘15″ campaign at jonahmac.org/donate. Thanks!

“Summer Camp” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2015. Throughout June and July 2015, we’ll be remembering — through the writing of his friends as well as some who watched from the sidelines — experiences, both great and small, that were part of Jonah’s seventeen years (from age 1 to 18) at the URJ Kutz Camp in Warwick, NY. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us help Kutz continue its wildly successful work of helping teens blaze a summer’s path to a whole, healthy life. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org. Thank you. You’re the best!

Sasha Pollock remembers …

Sasha Pollock is from Seattle, Washington. She’s 23 years of age, attended Linfield College in McMinnville, Oregon. Sasha grew up going to Hebrew school all throughout grade school and into high school. She became a Bat Mitzvah, was confirmed, and attended NFTY-NW events all throughout high school. Sasha attended Kutz Camp in the summers of 2007 and 2008. The summer of 2007 is when she met Jonah Maccabee Dreskin. She recently completed AmeriCorps’ City Year in Philadelphia and is now working as a camp counselor at the YMCA in Philly.

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Jonah was this young man with scruffy, reddish-brown facial hair, brown hair, and the biggest smile I’ve seen. When I first arrived to Kutz Camp, I was a little unsure about being so far away from home. That all changed when I met Jonah.

Jonah was one of the first people I got to know at Kutz. I remember meeting him through a friend of mine who knew Jonah from NFTY-NAR. Instead of shaking my hand, which is what I was accustomed to, he wrapped his arms around me and embraced me in a bear hug. That made my decision final about Kutz: I was going to love it there and enjoy every moment of it! Jonah and I quickly became friends and our friendship blossomed over the course of the summer.

I remember we were in Teva together, the outdoor programming track, and one time we went white-water rafting. On the trip to our site, Jonah was Mr. Social. That’s one thing I loved about him; Jonah was willing to meet and talk with anyone and everyone. He was the friendliest person. Once we arrived to our rafting site and everyone was getting ready, our RA’s (resident advisors) told us to put on sunblock because it was such a hot day and we’d be on water. I don’t know if Jonah hadn’t heard the RA’s or if he just didn’t care. Most of the guys, Jonah included, by about a quarter of the way into the trip were rafting shirtless. It was a long trip and I remember that, by the end, Jonah was as red as a tomato. But he didn’t care; he just had the biggest smile on his face.

Jonah and I grew really close throughout camp. He was the one I went to when I needed to talk. I could approach Jonah with anything that was on my mind: life problems, camp problems, achievements, anything. Jonah was so open. We were once in a cabin with another friend, just hanging out and talking. It wasn’t about anything in particular, but it is a memory that I’ll cherish forever.

Sasha & Jonah (Kutz 2007)

At Kutz, there is a climbing tower that everyone in camp was challenged to try and reach the top. I don’t like heights, but Jonah encouraged me to do it. He was so supportive and cheered me on, even while I was in tears. I was so scared to come back down, but knowing that Jonah was going to be down there waiting for me comforted me. He told me, “You’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. Trust me, you’ll be fine.” That has always stuck with me.

In the summer of 2008, Jonah worked on the kitchen staff. I was sad because, now that he had job responsibilities, I didn’t get to see him as much and, when we did, we couldn’t be our normal selves, goofing off and talking well into the night. But I did get to see Jonah grow up. Having the position of kitchen staff made me see how precious the summer before was and how I will always cherish those memories we made. Jonah really grew up in between the two summers. He was still, of course, his goofy, loving, friendly, outgoing, lively self. But once he hit the kitchen, he was all business. I admired that about Jonah, how he worked hard but didn’t let his work consume him. He didn’t let it get in the way of who he was.

Jonah lived every moment as if it were precious, like he’d never get it back. Jonah appreciated the small things and he never took the big things for granted. He loved hugs, music, his friends and family. Jonah had this sense about him that he had no enemies. Everyone loved and loves Jonah. He was dedicated to Judaism, Kutz and the friends he had there. I’m so grateful that I made the decision to go to Kutz for those summers and that I had the honor of meeting Jonah.

Kutz gave me a new outlook on life. Some of its values have followed me into my adult life. Today, I have the power of choice through knowledge. Kutz is an amazing place for young adults to come together, share in their Judaism, have fun, make lifelong memories and lifelong friends.

Like Jonah.

Sasha

Do you have a memory of Jonah at Kutz? Share it as a comment below. And please donate to our “Summer Camp ‘15″ campaign at jonahmac.org/donate. Thanks!

“Summer Camp” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2015. Throughout June and July 2015, we’ll be remembering — through the writing of his friends as well as some who watched from the sidelines — experiences, both great and small, that were part of Jonah’s seventeen years (from age 1 to 18) at the URJ Kutz Camp in Warwick, NY. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us help Kutz continue its wildly successful work of helping teens blaze a summer’s path to a whole, healthy life. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org. Thank you. You’re the best!

Michelle Lesco remembers …

Michelle Lesco is a freelance photographer who lives in Sydney, Australia. She specializes in natural light photography and describes herself as “part artist, part activist” because the world’s too important a place to only take from it without giving back. See Michelle’s work at Let’s Go Lesco Photos.

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Here are two stories. They’re my strongest, happiest memories with Jonah.

1) There was an afternoon of shrieking in my cabin. Not so unusual at Kutz, or any summer camp, but I thought I should probably take a look. Of all things, I found a frog to be the culprit. A frog Jonah had picked up and put in my cabin to freak out my girls. Mischievous? You know it! Hysterical? I’ll give him that. I guess he forgot though that I love frogs and wouldn’t hesitate to pick it up and play with it, so that’s just what I did. I brought it right back outside to him and we laughed because his plan had so obviously failed. Our summer on staff together was easily my favorite one. Jonah was always full of surprises.

2) There was one summer when I was a camper where I’m proud to proclaim that we got “Lap Tag” banned. It was 2005, the summer Jonah and I had met. The reason it got banned was because of the number of injuries people walked away with … all in good fun though. Who hasn’t tripped walking in a rush down the hill at one time or another? It was this summer, 2005, that laid the foundation for our friendship.

Lap Tag (Kutz 2005)

When playing lap tag, as we so often did, the group sits in a circle with a partner sitting in his/her lap. One person stands in the middle and points to two or three pairings. Of these pairings, the kid in the front is supposed to get up and run to tag the person in the middle. The tricky part is that the kid sitting behind you is fighting to hold you there so basically the center person gets to watch the group struggle until someone reaches the center. If you manage to tag the person in the middle, you become that middle person and the middle person you tagged sits behind your old partner. The game continues.

Jonah was awesome at this game. He and I always ended up being partners no matter how many summers went by. It took years for him to be able to beat me at it and I loved teasing him about that.

The last time we played was in 2008, a few years after it had been banned. Ironically, it was during staff week and after curfew when a bunch of us went down to the Beit Am to play – some Avodahnikim, some RAs, and even some faculty. Clearly Jonah and I were going to end up competing against each other anyway, so we paired off for old times’ sake. During one of the rounds, he sat in front of me and we struggled for a while, wrestling with rug burn and tickling before he just stood up and walked to the center, tagging whoever was there … with me still attached to his back. It was hysterical. And it matches our friendship in every way – Jonah was very much a mischievous little brother to me. I’d never had a younger sibling and he was a pro at pushing buttons and making you laugh while simultaneously annoying you just enough.

Michelle

Do you have a memory of Jonah at Kutz? Share it as a comment below. And please donate to our “Summer Camp ‘15″ campaign at jonahmac.org/donate. Thanks!

“Summer Camp” is The Jonah Maccabee Foundation’s summer fundraiser for 2015. Throughout June and July 2015, we’ll be remembering — through the writing of his friends as well as some who watched from the sidelines — experiences, both great and small, that were part of Jonah’s seventeen years (from age 1 to 18) at the URJ Kutz Camp in Warwick, NY. We’re hoping you’ll be inspired to help us help Kutz continue its wildly successful work of helping teens blaze a summer’s path to a whole, healthy life. Please consider making your tax-deductible gift at jonahmac.org. Thank you. You’re the best!

Dan Hall Ross remembers …

From 1991 until 2008, Kutz Camp played a huge role in Jonah’s life. For 14 years, Jonah was a “fac brat” at Kutz, filling the long, lazy summer days with adventures better known to kids who lived a century ago than those growing up in the digital era. He explored dense woods, went swimming and fishing, drew on sidewalks with chalk, baked, danced, flew kites and so much more. Then, in 2005, Jonah transitioned from “fac brat” to program participant, finally joining the camp’s regular program for two precious summers (2005 and 2007). In 2008, he served on staff which he loved and had intended to continue during the summer of 2009, had his life not ended in March of that year.

Kutz was one of Jonah’s homes. He owned it. Along with his other “fac brat” pals, Jonah knew every nook and cranny of those 85 acres. Best of all, hundreds of highly responsible teenagers filled that camp each summer, making it the very safest place on earth for a little kid to run free.

Six years after his death, it’s becoming harder and harder for people to remember specific moments with Jonah. That, of course, hasn’t stopped me from asking. So in the next bunch of postings, you’ll hear from some of the people who were part of Jonah’s world at Kutz and who have managed to extract remembrances from deep inside their brain matter.

This isn’t just a nostalgic thing (although I certainly am nostalgic about Jonah). Kutz Camp is undertaking a huge campaign of its own. Their objective is to finally and thoroughly modernize the camp and fully bring it into the 21st century. While our family certainly wants to be part of that, we also think it’s a perfect project for the Jonah Maccabee Foundation. Kutz not only provides teens with an incredible incubator inside of which they can safely grow in body and spirit, it also prepares those teens to return home and do more of the same in their own communities. That’s probably why we’ve always loved it: double the return on every human moment as each one is leveraged into multiple growth opportunities for young people.

Dan Hall Ross

Here’s our first piece of writing during this “Summer Camp!” campaign. It’s written by Dan Hall Ross, who shared Kutz with Jonah as very little boys. Today, Dan is a 25-year-old Seinfeld addict, making his way in the Big Apple. He works in talent management (TV, stage and film), spends most weekends wandering around parks with an iced coffee in hand, subconsciously searching for Ben and Jerry’s. Vermont stays close to his heart. Music, friends, and family (including his cats) are the most important parts of his life.

Dan and Jonah spent a lot of time together when they were very little, part of an elite corps of sweet little boys who had the run of Kutz throughout their childhoods. As you’ll read, the memories are powerful and unforgettable.

“What are we going to name them? We’ve gotta have at least a hundred, hmmm…well, maybe…fif-twen-ten fish in here. Yeah, ten!”

“Dan, we have to throw them back. I’m sure they already have names—they’re gonna be confused if we rename them…but….I guess two are okay. How about Dan and Jonah? We can make sure they’re only nicknames; that way they won’t get confused.”

I have yet to experience a better day of fishing than the one I shared with Jonah. It also happened to be my first time fishing ever.

Flash back to Kutz Camp, 1995—it was my summer paradise. Jonah and Michael were two of my best friends, aka Tha Fac Bratz, aka The Three Musketeers, aka The Canteen Crew. Yeah, we were pretty notorious around camp. Making fart noises in the dining hall, taking an extra bagel on Bagel Saturdays, or buying out all the ice cream sandwiches at the Canteen. We did it big.

Dan & Jonah tuckered out at Kutz in 1996

This particular summer day has always been one of my most vivid and meaningful childhood memories.

I’m not really sure how we got the poles, but I remember that we decided against worms. We had more than enough extra bagels from Bagel Saturday. We loved bagels. Clearly the fish would love bagels too.

Truthfully, I don’t think I would have been able to stab the worms. I talked a tough game — luckily none of the guys in The Three Musketeers found out that I wasn’t down with harpooning worms.

Dang. Well, the secret’s out now.

We ran down to the gazebo by the lake and set up camp. I watched Jonah cast. Instantly, his line tugged.

“DUDE. I. THINK. I. GOT. ONE. AHHHHHHHH!”

I cheered him on from the sideline (while simultaneously studying how to fish). After a good two minutes of back and forth tug-o-war, he pulled the dirtiest little carp out of the pond. It may have been three times the size of a goldfish. But it was the most beautiful fish I had ever seen.

Jonah turned and gave me a huge smile.

I silently gulped. Now it was my turn.

I failed at my first three casting attempts. I actually did catch a tree branch, but I guess that didn’t really count.

“These poles are weird, man. They don’t work like the ones I’ve used before.”

I think Jonah knew that I had never fished, but he never called me out on it. Instead, he showed me the ropes. I finally got a cast into the water.

At first nothing … and then … a tug. “GET IT, DAN!!” I reeled in as fast as I could. After a few minutes, my arm got tired, so he took the wheel. He was a pro in my book. A minute later we could see the fish on the line. However, before pulling it out, he gave the pole back to me. I reeled that sucker in. The carp stared at me as he came out of the water. I was filled with excitement.

Every day with Jonah was an adventure, and I respected the kindness he showed me at that camp. He and Michael made my childhood summers incredible.

Looking back, I realize that I had caught my first fish, but I had gained an even better companion.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to go back to Kutz Camp and fish where we did on that summer day. I know he would be giving me the same mischievous grin as he had so many years before.

The next one I catch will be for Jonah.

Do you have a memory of Jonah at Kutz? Share it as a comment below. And please donate to our “Summer Camp ’15” campaign at jonahmac.org/donate. Thanks!

Last night, my wife and children joined me once again with our friends and community in celebrating Jonah’s life and the things he loved (music, being Jewish, and helping others) by welcoming two great performance entities – Billy Jonas and The Levins – for the 6th Annual Jonah Maccabee Concert. What a beautiful evening, with music even more wonderful than I had imagined!

Ellen and I greeted our guests with the celebration of Havdalah (the Jewish ceremony that marks the end of Shabbat) and shared the following words and stories to get things going. As always, Jonah’s at the center, bringing a smile and leading us to lovely, sweet places of the heart.

Billy

Shortly after Jonah died, and after one particularly good cry, I sighed, “Oh, Jonah. You are gonna wear me out.” Katie (quoting from one of her favorite childhood books, Clotilda) commented, “He would have done that anyway.”

Clotilda is this wonderful little story about a boy named Tommy, who, along with his sister Betty, meets a fairy godmother named Clotilda. Betty is delighted and quite taken with Clotilda, but Tommy, a cynic at age six, responds to Clotilda’s magic – she transforms a caterpillar into a butterfly, and an acorn into an oak tree – with an unimpressed dismissal, “It would have done that anyway!”

Later in the book, Clotilda turns Tommy into a donkey, saying, “He would have done that anyway!” She then explains, “The world is full of magic and anyone who can’t appreciate it is a donkey!”

Jonah was magical. His humor, his tigger-like bounce, and the love that he brought into our world was pure wizardry. None of it required a wand or an incantation, but it was so very special, and we never, ever grew tired of it.

Here’s a quick example. I always told my kids, “For my birthday or Hanukkah, you don’t have to ever spend a penny on me. Just make me something.” Jonah went to town with that idea, perhaps because he loved saving money, but also because he loved the offbeat nature of a homemade gift. I can’t really tell you what he made because I’m not really sure what they were. Each one involved boxes, duct tape, aluminum foil, string, and even pieces of plastic melted together.

Some involved candles. I remember one where we lit the candle inside which, before the cardboard box that housed it caught on fire, radiated points of light that shone through the tiny holes he’d punched into the top. I loved these gifts and still treasure them today because of their creativity, their zaniness, and the feeling of love that was transmitted from my son to his dad.

Jonah was magic. And you can bet we appreciated it, and him.

Havdalah invokes blessings that express appreciation for this magic, for the gifts we receive throughout our lives – gifts like food, shelter and clothing, and the less tangible ones like laughter, understanding and love. Through wine, spices and fire (Jonah would add, “Definitely fire!”), we give thanks for the nourishing ingredients of our lives. Havdalah affirms that we’re no Tommy, responding with a blase “So what?” to these great, everyday events.

To the contrary, we give our thanks for the magic. It might have happened anyway, but we feel so lucky to be part of life’s extraordinary experiences, to appreciate them for their sheer magnificence, and to do what we can to give a little back. For tonight’s music, our shared friendship, the ability to help kids go to camp, and a beautiful, little synagogue community in which all of this can happen – we thank you … for being with us, and for joining us on the journey.

Billy

Afterword:

In life, we love and we laugh, but we also lose and we cry. In short, we live. We can’t have only the good, and that’s hard. But we get the good, and that’s fantastic! We don’t have to be happy about what hurts us, but we do (I think) need to find joy in all the good that still remains. It’s been a difficult lesson for me to learn these past six years, but Jonah really has led the way. He filled his life with wonder; I endeavor each day to do the same.

Billy

After-afterword:

If you’re interested, here’s the program from the concert.

What a great evening! See you next year!

Billy

Jonah’s sixth yahrzeit is here. How is it possible? I was watching an episode of “Sherlock,” the one where he appears to have died. Watson is visiting Holmes’ grave and asks if he’d perform one more miracle, “Please … don’t be dead.” As the tears ran down my cheeks, I nodded in recognition. How many times have I made that same request of Jonah? Well, he won’t make me that miracle, but he still gives me good stories. And while that’s not my preference, it’ll just have to do, won’t it? So in honor of my sweet, good boy, here’s another story. A perfect Jonah-story.  

Here’s the first one Jonah made … with lots of help

A few weeks back, I brought into our religious school some of Jonah’s childhood memories – two Pinewood Derby cars. The Pinewood Derby is an annual competition where Cub Scouts make model cars from balsa wood and race them. I showed the kids the first of five cars Jonah had made, a sleek, fancy number which he’d worked on with a friend’s dad, someone who, unlike Jonah’s dad, actually knew something about woodwork. Three more of these really cool designs would follow in succeeding years.

I was a Cub Scout. And I too participated in the Pinewood Derby. And I too had a dad who couldn’t tell a nut from a bolt, so my entries were utterly horrifying when stacked against my competition. Not only were my cars incredibly ugly, they barely made it down the track let alone across the finish line.

Jonah’s final Pinewood entry … view #1

As the years of Jonah’s involvement in Cub Scouts progressed, you could see a transformation taking place. Even though he was still working with his friend’s dad, Jonah was incorporating more and more of his own personality on each car. The fancy paint jobs were replaced by magic marker drawings and, by year five, he made his car completely on his own, a rectangular block of wood that pretty much stayed rectangular, sanded and smoothed at the corners, but with an addition that was unmistakably Jonah. He drew a single line across the width of the car about a third of the way down its body and created two “handles,” one for the upper section and one for the lower. Limited in technique but overflowing in creativity and humor, Jonah had fashioned himself a freezer refrigerator on wheels! He named it: Demented Refrigerator. That it won 1st prize for creativity surprised no one. That it won 2nd place in the racing competition astonished us all.

Jonah’s final Pinewood entry … view #2

Purim has once again arrived, a time of masks, hidden intentions and, as things go, Jonah’s yahrzeit. Six years ago, he was buried only hours before Purim began. I imagine he would have enjoyed knowing our remembrance of him is always commingled with Judaism’s comic holiday. Probably his favorite temple moment growing up was performing in our “Improv Purim.” His team was really good and really funny.

Although Jonah’s been gone a while now, I continue to learn from him. I still hear from his friends about Jonah’s incessant kindness and the special bond he easily fashioned with others. Part of it, I think, was that Jonah wore no masks. He held no hidden intentions. Once he’d discovered, during his teens, the greatness inside himself — a big, strong heart, selflessly offered to others, wrapped in a wild and wooly sense of humor — these together served him beautifully in negating the necessity to ever hide his true nature from others.

Jonah in Cub Scouts (May 2000) … he’s the smiley kid to the right of the flags

I’m constantly amazed by what this sweet, kooky kid was able to achieve in his brief nineteen years. And as Purim once again reminds me that he’s gone, I also remember Purim’s, and Jonah’s, greatest lesson to us all: not to rely on masks but to trust in our essential goodness. This never failed Jonah, and I think it’s a pretty good Purim lesson for us all.

Improv Purim returned to my temple this year. Now, back home, I reluctantly inaugurate the 6th anniversary of the midnight phone call telling us that Jonah was hurt and an ambulance was on its way. Of all the memories Jonah has left to us, you can bet it’s the ones that include lots of laughter that I’ll be holding onto … tonight and every night thereafter.

Billy

This piece first appeared in the March 2015 issue of Woodlands Community Temple’s Makom, but was expanded for this collection.

I’ve got some more documentation for you about those rare Jonah-playing-in-public sightings.

One that I’ve mentioned before but haven’t fully described is when Jonah joined Dan Nichols on stage at Kutz Camp in July 2005. Jonah was 15 years old at the time and had been playing the ukulele for only three months. He’d purchased it with his own money during a family trip to Hawaii. He’d known from the beginning of that very special, probably once in a lifetime for us all, family vacation that he’d be bringing an ukulele home with him. He was very clear upon our arrival that he’d be needing to make an excursion to an authentic Hawaiian music store.

Dan and Jonah, “Turn the World Around” (Jul 2005)

I distinctly recall our driving over to the Lahaina Music shop. Jonah made a bee-line to the uke display and it wasn’t long at all before he’d found the one for him. From then on, Jonah was hooked. When he went off to camp that summer, the ukulele went with him, setting up the backdrop for Dan Nichols’ visit to Kutz. Dan always invites a few kids to work with him the afternoon before a concert. Ellen and I were serving on faculty at Kutz and were unaware of what we were going to see that evening. During the concert, the band began a vamp to introduce one of Dan’s biggest hits, “Turn the World Around.” As the vamp continued, Ellen and I heard Dan say, “Won’t you welcome to the silver sparkled microphone … please welcome Jonah Dreskin.”

Now since Jonah only rarely performed in public, you can imagine our surprise, and our good fortune, at being present for this one. Jonah hadn’t yet fully emerged as the wild, overcharged, inclusive and embracing guy that he was destined to be. His time at Kutz was, thus far, only okay as a social experience for him. He didn’t own Kutz yet, but that was all soon to change.

Jonah’s mom and dad kvelling
Kutz Camp, July 2005

What’s amazing about this moment is that while no one would be surprised to find me taking snapshots of Jonah onstage (and I did!), we were stunned to later find out that a friend of ours (Hope Chernak) had pointed her camera toward us, capturing our reaction to seeing our shy (but not for long) little boy up there with Jewish superstar Dan Nichols. To top off the wonder of this incredibly exciting and gratifying musical moment, another friend (Cantor Leon Sher) had been visiting camp that evening and turned on his digital recorder just in case Dan sang something new that Leon might be able to use in his work. As a result, Ellen and I are able to relive that evening again and again, viewing the pictures of Jonah and of ourselves, and listening to this rare and precious recording of that unforgettable night.

By the way, “Turn the World Around” is performed in 5/8 time. That ain’t so easy to play, folks, and Jonah nailed it! That was how it was possible for me and Ellen to feel even prouder of (and giddier about!) our little boy. You can listen to this great, rare performance right here:

A brief note about ukuleles. Jonah felt very strongly and was very specific about the proper “handling” of his instrument. Chana Rothman, one of his 2005 songleading instructors during that summer at Kutz, wrote us shortly after Jonah had died:

I remember when you guys came back from Hawaii and he had a ukulele in his hand. This memory is imprinted indelibly on my mind; I can tell you the exact spot in Kutz where he stood (between the Faculty Dining Room and the Lobby, with friends and chaos all around) and told me the story of how he got his ukulele. And then he taught me how to pronounce it, since most people don’t do so correctly. He taught me with respect and enthusiasm, eager to share not only the instrument but the story and the culture behind it. Ever since then, I call Jonah into my mind when I pronounce oo-koo-lay-lay (not yoo-kuh-layl-ee) and I remember how powerful it can be to respect another culture not your own.

One summer later, Jonah would attend the Conference on Alternatives in Jewish Education (CAJE), held during five days in August 2006 at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. One night – late – there was an open mic. Ellen was sitting with a few friends (Jan Katz, Doug Cotler and Rabbi Tamar Crystal) in the food court when who should appear on a makeshift stage in the middle of the room but Jonah Maccabee Dreskin! With ukulele in hand and sunglasses for coolness, Jonah played and sang (very likely, “Over the Rainbow”) as a very supportive audience cheered him on, his mama beaming with tremendous pride and (as always) infinite love.

Jonah @ CAJE (Aug 2006) … see his mama against the windows to the left?

In our family, Jonah was a huge presence, as if every moment existed solely for him to leave his mark, to make an impression, to make sure he wasn’t forgotten. Not his goals at all, but the kind of impact he made on us. We loved it. He was so incredibly entertaining, and we never tired either of being his audience or jumping in and making noise right along with him. That was one of Jonah’s great gifts. He was never as interested in stepping into the spotlight as he was in dragging you in with him. Nothing was ever as much fun as sharing center stage with a friend.

For nineteen years, Jonah shared his spotlight with us, and we were ecstatic. Then one day, his place on the stage was empty, and we were bereft. But life is an uncanny sort of journey. The stage is patient. The empty place beneath the spotlight will quietly wait for the show to resume. And so it has, quite surprisingly considering how lost we’ve been without him. There are so many moments now when I am surrounded by good people – family and friends – who have taught me to smile again, to sing again, to make noise again, to take the stage again, and to live again. And always, I think of Jonah. How he would love to be part of this. And how he would be happy that his place on the stage is neither empty nor is it ever limited to any single performer for very long.

This, I think, was one of his great lessons to us all.

Billy