Chofesh – 2nd Session Kadima & B’Yachad – July 1st

Chofesh!

Chofesh is the free time we give campers after dinner and before Tochnit Erev (evening program), and I have to tell you, it’s my favorite time to walk around camp.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love walking around during Chugim (activities), where kids are learning new skills, trying things they’ve never done before, mastering something they didn’t think they could, or sometimes just enjoying the simple pleasure of good old-fashioned play.

But Chofesh is different. It’s probably the purest expression of why I applaud every one of you for sending your kid to camp.Tonight, as I wandered around, I couldn’t help but think that Chofesh has a certain poetry to it.

In the best parenting book I’ve read in years, The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt (yes…I know…many of you veteran readers are probably rolling your eyes because you know I quote this book every chance I get, but indulge me one more time), he talks about how today’s kids have lost so much of what he calls “free play.” They’ve lost those stretches of unstructured time where nobody tells them exactly what to do, where the adults fade into the background, and where kids naturally figure out friendships, disagreements, leadership, inclusion, and all of those little social skills that can’t really be taught, they have to be experienced.

That’s exactly what Chofesh is.

The remarkable thing is that the adults don’t create it. We protect it. Our staff are certainly there, making sure everyone is safe and that healthy boundaries are maintained, but the magic belongs entirely to the campers. They’re the ones making the games, setting the rules, inviting one another in, working out disagreements, and creating a community that feels uniquely theirs. We just have the privilege of watching it happen.

As a parent, I completely understand not wanting to miss a single moment of your child’s life. I remember that feeling myself. But I also believe, maybe now more than ever, that one of the greatest gifts we can give our kids is the opportunity to have moments that belong entirely to them.

So let me simply tell you what I saw tonight.

I started my walk at the Tayelet (the big play area on the hill above our waterfront), where about fifteen younger campers had gathered around a game of nine square. Of course, only nine could actually play at any given time, but the other six or seven didn’t seem to mind. They stood patiently waiting for their turn while providing some of the funniest, and loudest, color commentary imaginable. Staff stood nearby, not directing the game but simply making sure everyone stayed safe while the kids ran the whole show themselves.

Over on the volleyball court, two staff members were playing Newcomb with a mixed group of boys and girls. If you’ve never played it, think volleyball with catching instead of volleying, although I’m sure someone will tell me that’s an oversimplification. Nearby a few campers were playing bags…or cornhole…depending on where you’re from. You can settle that debate at home.

At the north end of the Tayelet sits one of our fire pits, surrounded by swings, benches, and chairs, and every single one of them was occupied. Campers were talking, laughing, making friendship bracelets that have a signature dangle from their water bottles whilst under construction (yes, I said “whilst”), and simply enjoying one another’s company. Even the quieter moments didn’t feel like boredom. They felt comfortable.

From there I wandered past the flag circle, where a group of campers from the Israeli Scouts Chug had recruited two of our Israeli staff into some game whose rules completely escaped me. To my untrained eye it looked something like the hebrew/Israeli version of  Duck, Duck, Goose or Duck, Duck, Grey Duck, again depending on where you’re from. (Apparently I’m on a geographic theme tonight.)

Then I made my way into the Habonim K’far, where a group of campers sat around the fire pit without a fire, creating all the warmth they needed through conversation and laughter. I sat down for a few minutes, and some of the girls began asking me questions that made absolutely no sense. Naturally I responded with answers that made even less sense, which caused them to erupt into laughter because I had unknowingly become part of whatever inside joke they were playing.

Just behind me, three campers were stretched out in a hammock. One had paper and a pen.

“What are you working on?” I asked.

“We’re writing a song.”

“What for?”

“Just to write a song, Tommy.”

I’m fairly certain they wanted to add, “Obviously.”

I walked away smiling.

(I feel like a novelist when I do quoted exchanges.)

Of course I couldn’t skip Kadima and B’Yachad land.

In Kadima, two boys sat on the giant rocks with guitars, playing great ’70s and ’90s rock songs (the 80’s were too synth for this kind of jam) that made me disproportionately proud. There’s hope for tomorrow! Around them, friends lounged in hammocks listening, while another group simply sat together talking and laughing. One camper was quietly coloring in this cool adult coloring book, and for some reason I found that incredibly satisfying.

The B’Yachad K’far looked much the same, minus the guitars…although I have hope for them too.

Crossing the Poad (not quite a path and not quite a road), I arrived in Ozo Park, where there had to be dozens of campers throwing Frisbees with staff and Ozrim. Some were attempting the sacred Herzl tradition of trying to hit Mo from across the field. (Yes, the old Ozo Mo is still standing, and yes, it remains sacred.) Others were playing short-field Ultimate while plenty were simply throwing discs back and forth with friends. Nearby, the newly installed mister had become its own attraction, with one camper apparently accepting the responsibility of pushing the button every fifteen seconds to make sure everyone stayed cool.

My final stop was another fire pit near the Amudim cabins, where about fifteen campers were playing Haji Paji. One camper just couldn’t seem to understand the game, but what struck me wasn’t that they struggled, it was how everyone else responded. Nobody teased them. Nobody rolled their eyes. Nobody made them feel small. Instead, they celebrated every attempt, laughed together, and somehow turned confusion into joy. It was one of those little moments that says more about a community than any speech ever could.

I almost forgot one of my favorite conversations of the evening.

Enzo was with me, and someone asked why we named him Enzo. I explained that it came from a great book called The Art of Racing in the Rain, and before I could say another word, an 11- or 12-year-old boy who had been playing football nearby and had wandered into our little Ozo Park cohort and said, “I know that book. I loved that book. I cried at the end.”

Think about that for a second.

Where else does a kid that age comfortably admit something that vulnerable in front of a group of peers, some of whom he barely knows? Maybe around family. Maybe around a best friend. But I’d like to think camp is one of the few places where kids feel safe enough to simply be themselves.

Every one of these scenes would have looked different somewhere else. The kids might still have been together, but they’d probably have been gathered around phones, watching videos, sharing reels, or talking about something on a screen instead of creating something together. Here they’re talking. They’re laughing. They’re imagining. They’re negotiating. They’re building friendships. And perhaps most importantly, they’re looking forward to doing it again tomorrow.

That’s the gift you’ve given them.

You’ve given them the gift of conversation, the gift of interpersonal connection, and the gift of growing up in a community where childhood still looks like childhood.

My Camp and parent heart was beaming tonight. I get to see this every day, but every once in a while it hits me just a little harder. Tonight was one of those nights.

We’ve got a wonderful Israel-themed Shabbat ahead of us, and I can’t wait to tell you all about it. But tonight, let’s simply celebrate one of the greatest gifts camp has to offer.

Chofesh.

Thank you for sending your kid to Herzl Camp.

All is well. Safely rest.

,לילה טוב

Tommy