I went to Israel with Todd on the Pembroke/Tel Noar/Tevya trip. I am grateful to have gone on that trip with Todd and everyone else. I know that we all shared one of the best experiences of our lives. I am so sad to have heard of the death of Todd, he was always such a nice kid and his mere presence could always make us smile and laugh. I just want to send a poem by Rebecca Kramer which was read on our last night in Israel, to remember our experience in Israel and in Todd's memory.
Bare feet on hot pavement, beat out sounds of summer
Far away from home, and sheltered lives
All the attractions are toured, By giggling girls and muscular boys
We pay our respects to the wall,Slipping notes in the cracks
And reciting KADDISH, As we tear our clothes
And then dance away the nights, in smoke filled dance halls, And little tourist traps
We have been thrown together, By faceless names, in well-lit offices
Hired to coordinate "meaningful summers"
We learn to explore, together
Becoming so much closer
Then anyone could ever have known or suspected
Hoped or dreamed
We are tourists in a strange land
Which slowly grows, To feel like home
Dutifully, we wear our hats, carry our water-filled canteen in our backpacks or bags
And take pictures of random soldiers and hasadim
who look at us with contempt and wonder why we bother, and whether we really care
The letters come from home, over seven thousand miles away, "are you wearing sunblock" "stay away from Arabs" "and plese write soon"
We laugh to ourselves, and throw them aside
Nothing can touch us, not now, not here
We learn to be quiet, in dark museums
and have pillow fights, in strange hotel rooms, where we stay for a night
And lock the doors when we leave
We make random friends, from other groups, "You're from Ohio, Do you know Sandy?"
Hoping for bits of gossip from home
We talk a moment, and then move along
Thrilled by new bits of trivial news
We sleep on the bus
On the way to Arad or Ben Gurion's tomb
As we loudly complain, about trivial things, which we know, Don't matter at all
And close our windows tightly, as we pass through the west bank
Arguing, over what tapes to play today
And hoping that someone will come with the mail
No one will ever know, At home when we return
What this summer has meant
They will ask poiltely
Pretending to understand private jokes and experiences we have all had
They will look at the albums, connect the names with faces
And places with events
They will laugh at the twenty four pictures of the sunrise over Masada
And silently wonder why we took them all
But they will never know, the pain of yad vashem, the beauty of eilat, the wonder or our shabbats, or the CLOSENESS of our group
And how it felt to say GOODBYE
but we will REMEMBER
as we write letters late at night
while term papers lag on desks unfinished and forgotten
And when the phone bills arrive and must be worked off
Six hous a day at boring jobs
We will REMEMBER it all
And when we sit around sedar tables, amongst family and friends saying as always "next year in Jerusalem"
we will secretly smile, as we drink our last glass of wine
thinking of Jaffa Street,And Ben Yehuda, And of the Old City
And wishing that it could be true
That we could return
To the sounds of summer, and the pounding of bare feet on Jerusalem Stone
Todd you will always be in our hearts and memories! We will miss you dearly!