- How Lucky We Were
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Remembering the unspeakable tragedy soon to sweep over Europe, but also recalling happier associations of a summer camp advertisement “For Lucky Boys” in The Menorah Journal 80 years ago, one looks back to a bright chapter of summer experiences for Jewish children in the 1920s and early ‘30s in this fortunate land an ocean away. 1 At our camp we never dreamed our blessings came about because children like us were not wanted in a German village a hundred years before. But such was the case.
The retreat with which my brother first became acquainted in 1929 (when in his 11th year), and I in 1931 (at nine), was not, like those in the ad, in New York’s Adirondack Mountains, but in the rolling countryside around the Belgrade Lakes of central Maine. The town of Waterville is on the west side of the Kennebec River and the smaller town of Winslow on the east; the latter contributed the name to the camp, which was some five miles further east. Camp Winslow boasted an idyllic setting: some 200 acres of field and forest on a broad peninsula reaching into Pattee’s Pond, a quiet, unspoiled little lake perfect for swimming, rowing, fishing and canoeing. Sports facilities were ample, along with miles of trails close by for exploring, woodcraft and nature study, paddocks and bridle paths for horseback riding, and sturdy wood structures for living quarters, the mess hall and social lodge (the latter also used for plays and Friday evening services), infirmary, arts and crafts (the shop), the canoe shelter, and indoor games or other activities in rainy weather or evenings.
Narrow country dirt or blacktop roads with little automobile traffic stretched invitingly in all directions for overnight hikes—we ate around our campfire, and at night after stories and songs nestled in blanket rolls spread on forest ground carpeted with fragrant pine needles. Near the camp were traditional family farms and their barns with...