A Face in the Window

June.

Ah...June.

Tulips. Suntan lotion. Baseball. Graduations. Barbeques. Finals (finally). Summer camp. Really red watermelon. Sunglasses. Father's Day.

What a month, indeed. Someday, when they ask me to re-calibrate the calendar (which, by the way, will definitely happen), I'm going to lop off a good 8-10 days from each of December, January, and February and add them to June. No reason in the world why the greatest month of the year shouldn't have 60 or 70 days, at least!

Until then, 30 will just have to do. Oh well.

But for me, June always had an additional significance. It contained my father's birthday. Not that he ever made much of it (and, in typical European fashion we never knew how old he was, of course), but it did add a dash of supplementary luster to an already celebratory time of year.

Come to think of it, Daddy never really made very much of Father's Day either. And since the birthday and Father's Day inevitably fell so close to each other, my brother and me usually cheated and rolled the festivities into one. Daddy just kind of smiled approvingly at our annual shortcut, perhaps gladdened that less of a fuss would be made over him. In fact, if I didn't know better, and if he hadn't been born in Poland, I'd have suspected that he orchestrated his own birth to land in the vicinity of Father's Day, precisely to escape some additional rays of limelight. He was reticent and unassuming. In short, nothing like his son.

I wonder if he was always unassuming. Who knows? Was he indeed born, or brought up that way, or did he become inconspicuous later in life – either in response to his war experiences or perhaps as a desperate or feeble survival tool. Maybe unobtrusive inmates had a better chance of "hiding" in the Nazi death camps. I just don't know; he never really spoke to us about his six years of hell on earth.

As Father's Day (and his birthday) approach once more, I think about this delicate and understated father of mine and I search for glimpses into his humble, yet loving soul. And I am repeatedly haunted by one most vivid and moving scene from my childhood. But first some contrast.

Several years ago, on a particularly warm Tuesday morning in very late June (yes, June), I found myself walking past a school building in my neighborhood. Lined up in the adjacent street were six idling "coach" busses, brimming with jubilant and frenzied kids. A momentary chill trickled through me. Instantly, one of my fondest childhood memories appeared. Camp departure day had arrived.

Starting at age nine, for 13 years, I had lived and breathed my camping experience, not for 2 months a year, but for practically every single day of the year. I was obsessed with everything about camp. Various scenes from camp routinely visited my dreams all year. (Some still do!) So camp departure day was by far the number one day of the year for this kid. To say that the anticipation bordered on the euphoric would probably be an understatement.

Something was wrong; very wrong.

So watching those busses revving up and listening to those kids howling with glee was a gripping moment for me. But then it struck me. Something was wrong; very wrong. I felt like I was confronting one of those magazine puzzles – "What's wrong with this picture?"

It didn't take me long to figure it out. There was something missing from the scene. The parents. Where were they?

"HEY!" I shouted internally. "YOUR CHILDREN ARE LEAVING FOR CAMP! WHY AREN'T YOU HERE? CAN'T YOU WAIT FOR THE BUSSES TO PULL OUT???"

An inappropriate sweat saturated my collar. I had to find out. I ran to a burly chap with a whistle. He would know.

"Excuse me," I blurted, "I see you're going off to camp."

"Leaving any minute," he offered, crushing a torn duffle bag into the final empty corner of the luggage bin.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"WHERE ARE THE PARENTS?"

"Oh, a lot of them were here before, but they left. Work, I guess. Who knows? No big deal – these kids are in good hands."

My heart sank. "A lot of them were here," did he say? "No big deal?" Of course it's a big deal. IT'S THE BIGGEST DEAL OF THE WHOLE DARN YEAR!!!

I was clearly losing it.

It took me a minute or two to fully grasp the reality of the episode before me. I guess the parents did have places to go. Work, appointments or otherwise. A lot of the kids do have older siblings with them. Why should the parents have to wait for the busses to pull out? Suitable goodbyes, including kisses, nosh, and money, are presumably permitted even prior to the busses leaving. And maybe the kids actually prefer to get those mushy goodbyes over with early etc. etc. What got into me?

Which brings me to that one vivid and moving experience from my past that I mentioned to you. It happened on camp departure day. And it happened every single year, for many years.

My folks woke me early and the three of us made the 80-minute subway trek to the camp bus. Little Jackie (me) didn't get much sleep the night before, dreaming of extra-inning baseball games and stirring Friday night melodies to come. But rest was the last thing on my mind. "THE DAY" had arrived!

Freshly laundered socks, a chocolate-sprinkle sandwich and my trusted black baseball mitt filled the "Korvette's" shopping bag I usually carried, and no matter how old I was, Mommy and Daddy had a tough time keeping pace with my determined stride to the "Stairway to Heaven," otherwise known as the camp bus.

Creased loose-leaf papers posed as official bunk signs, directing us to the appropriate lines where we received pre-boarding instructions, obligatory bunkmate introductions, and the usual warnings about throwing stuff out of the bus windows and maintaining proper decorum. But when those big bus doors flew open, we all charged full steam ahead like a herd of police dogs on a manhunt. It's a miracle that other than a lot of crushed Devil Dogs and an exploding Pepsi or two, there were no serious casualties in the mad surge of exuberant youth. I would then make my annual pilgrimage to the "back of the bus" and settle in comfortably at a vacant window seat. Seatmates changed from year to year, but it really didn't matter who was sitting with me. My focus was elsewhere.

Long forgotten by that time, were my forlorn father and mother who, missing me already, remained obediently on the now nearly evacuated sidewalk, chatting with other similarly abandoned parents. I peered out the window and watched them. Sending me to camp was not easy for them. Not financially and not emotionally. Such is the reality for survivors of the Holocaust. Separations cut deep. I was pretty young, and I didn't understand it very well, but I knew it was a real sacrifice.

Before very long, the counselors performed the ritual roll call and head count and I knew any minute we'd be on our way. I looked once more through the open window and felt that wistful pang of exhilaration and yearning. It was a strange combination of feelings and my stomach knew it. Mommy always wore a look that said, "Everything will be fine," but Daddy looked lost. His lips seemed to quiver and his soft eyes were no longer dry.

The engines revved up. By now all the windows were crammed with waving arms and blown kisses.

"Bye-bye!"
"See you on Visiting Day!"
"Don't forget to write!"

The wheels began their tiresome thrust. The bus lurched forward. A couple of drops of already opened soda probably spilled somewhere. And then I heard it. It was a tap on the windowpane. Strong. Determined. No...maybe frightened is a better word. It was Daddy.

One final good-bye. I saw his hands fumbling in his pockets. When they emerged, they were filled with candy, gum, salted peanuts, and some loose change. He shoved them through the window, half of them spilling to the gutter below. One final chance to feed me, nurture me, hold on to me... love me.

I whipped my neck around to steal a glance at those around me. I guess I was embarrassed, but it didn't matter much. By now Daddy was running to keep up with the departing bus. It was the only time all year he ever ran.

It was the happiest sadness I could ever feel.

Our eyes met one last time. We were both crying now. His arms flailed in surrender mode as we picked up speed. He knew the separation was inevitable and imminent. It was a race he would surely lose. I stuck my head out for one last look...and stared at the peanuts on my lap. Somehow the bus seemed very quiet.

And so went the annual scene. As I grew older, the candy matured somewhat and the change became dollars, but the loving, tearful face in the window remained the same. It was the happiest sadness I could ever feel.

The irony of the situation was that we both knew that Visiting Day would arrive in less than two weeks! It's not like I was going on some yearlong voyage to ‘Never-never Land.' But separations do cut deep.

What really triggered this most reserved man to unabashedly display his most shielded emotions? I don't really know. We never spoke about it. Could it have been a morbid association to the trains he boarded en route to five different concentration camps? Or a menacing reminder of separations – final ones- that he experienced with loved ones? Or was it some overwhelmingly painful image of the bizarre disparity between the camps he went to, and the "camp" I loved so much?

I will never know. But I think I now understand why I demanded to know where those parents were, when the busses left without them that hot Tuesday morning. And I think I know why I love June so much.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy... and Happy Birthday too... I miss you.

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Published: June 12, 2001
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Visitor Comments: 77

(77) Anonymous, November 15, 2010 4:00 AM

ITs pretty incredible that you remember something that to most people would seam so small.

(76) Anonymous, December 30, 2009 1:36 PM

W OW

Awesome, must be such a comfort to know how much your Dad loved you - hope I can give my children the same value and security.

(75) Anonymous, December 29, 2009 7:42 PM

Thank You for Such a Lovely Article

My father is also a Survivor. He couldn't show affection to me when I was a child, but I KNEW how much he loved me. My mother told me he cried whenever I went away to friend's sleepover for a night and when I left to go to college, he he cried for two days solid. Even today, I have to call him morning and evening to let him know that me, my husband and his grandchildren are safe. From my dad, I have learned to appreciate my family. When my eldest went to camp for the first time last sumer, I took a day's annual leave so I could go see her off on the coach. My Dad wouldn't (couldn't?) come with, but he was there with me to pick her up! Thank you Rabbi Salomon for reminding us how precious our families are.

(74) Reba, December 28, 2009 5:15 AM

My dad's birthday also June

The year I was born, Father's Day was on June 18th. My dad's birthday was on June 16th. He wanted me to be born on either his birthday or Father's Day. Instead, I was born on June 17th. He used to joke about how since that time, I never did anything he wanted. He was a man for whom his children and family were everything. He's been gone for over 13 years but I still miss him a lot.

(73) Iris Moskovitz, December 27, 2009 10:43 PM

What an amazing father and son!

The story got me crying uncontrollably, when Rabbi Yaakov's father starting chasing after the bus. It reminds me of when my father O"BM ran after a salesman that was selling a doll door to door. I wanted the doll so much, even though I am sure it was not something he could afford at the time. What is really amazing is that my father was niftar when I was not even four years old, but I remember this incident so vividly. I really have no other vivid thoughts of him, though. That really brings me down. What I do know from this memory is how much my father loved me. I am sure he is looking down on me now, and shepping nachas from me, his son-in-law and two beautiful granddaughters. Love you Daddy.

(72) ck, December 22, 2009 8:58 AM

got me thinking

i now realize that all these "little" details like watching your kid off to camp etc can really make a difference in a persons life. we should all really look out for small ways that can make a persons day, year or maybe even their life.

(71) , December 8, 2009 7:32 PM

What a beautifuly story. Thank you for sharing.

(70) Anonymous, February 25, 2007 1:36 PM

brought me to tears

I love good parents. I REALLY love REALLY good parents.

And...I wish my parents were good parents.

(69) KMM, July 9, 2006 12:00 AM

What a touching story! I'm happy to hear what loving, caring parents the Jewish community has produced by following G-d's blueprints of how to live. Such an awareness to never take for granted our goodbyes, or neglect to show our deep seated love for our precious families........I wish I had parents like yours and see I can always try to become the parent to my children that I wish I had for myself. You are a great writer and I look forward to reading more of your articles! : )

(68) Naftoli, September 22, 2005 12:00 AM

Beautiful story

Your father z'l and you are wonderful people.

(67) Morah Susie, July 4, 2005 12:00 AM

How refreshing!

I read this between driving 10 hours round trip to take one daughter to summer camp and then making an even longer drove to take two other daughters to their summer program. Perhaps I could have gotten to their destinations more easily, getting them rides with others but I chose not to. Its important for them to know that that their family is behind them and that they're special and that we are happy to 'drive to the ends of the earth' for them.

(66) Merlock, June 19, 2005 12:00 AM

Thanks, Rabbi!

Thanks for the touching article. I wish your father a happy birthday and Father's Day in Heaven. God bless!

(65) Anonymous, June 17, 2004 12:00 AM

WOW - Touching and Very Endearing

Thank you Rabbi Salomon for an unbelievably poignant story from your childhood. Children are so very impressionable, and we all have to remember that when dealing with our own youngsters. In times of stress or anger, never forget how impressionable your remarks, attitude, world-view are on the young minds exposed to them on a daily basis.
Many years ago I went with my 5 year old son to Manhattan via subway. On the platform in one of the stations was a young mother scolding and hitting her 2-3 year old child. When we boarded the train my son turned to me and asked "Mommy, who was that lady with that little boy"? When I explained that most probably it was his Mother, my son was totally puzzled
Really, then why was she making him cry? In my young son's world he had never been hit or smacked by his parents, and to witness a parent inflicting real pain on their own offspring was hard for him to comprehend.
This sort of reminds me of your reaction to the non-interest of the parents seeing their precious children off to camp. It is real testimony to the compassionate, caring,loving parents that you and your brother were priveleged to have.
May your Father's neshoma have an Aliyah in Shamayim.

(64) tali brea, June 17, 2004 12:00 AM

wow...this was so, so powerful--i'm still crying. thank you, rabbi salomon!

(63) Bill Ringer, June 16, 2004 12:00 AM

going to camp for the first time

What a great article--a real tear jerker. It reminded me of my first camp at the age of 11. I went with my mom to the camp that was 150 miles from my home. We checked in and surveyed the camp which was great. No problem until we got to the parking lot and the time for my mother's departure. I remember falling to my knees and wrapping my arms around her legs. I sobbed and sobbed and pleaded for her to not leave me. She placed her hand on my head and gentley disengaged my arms and said goodby. Years later she told mne thar she cried the entire 150 miles back to our home. She said that that was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. Bill Ringer

(62) Vivien B. goldbaum, June 16, 2004 12:00 AM

So moving, so wonderful.

This poignant story reminds me more than ever how terible the loss I sustained on 9/18/99, my beloved father's date of death, has been for me.
Thank you for publishing this beautiful ode to the joys of parenting.

(61) Marilyn Peare, June 15, 2004 12:00 AM

Great article, Rabbi

I think I can understand the correlation between "camp" and "camp." Your article was beautiful and your father was a lucky man.

(60) Anonymous, June 14, 2004 12:00 AM

Worth the Wait

Thank you for repeating this unbelievable article. After reading it last year for the first time, I longed to experience it again. This year, being the first year I will be sending my child on that "stairway to heaven" known as the camp bus it has extra special meaning.

(59) Dalia, June 14, 2004 12:00 AM

Now I will know what to do

Last year was the first time I sent my son to sleep-away camp. I stayed on the bus as long as I could. I kept telling my Mendy to have a great time and trying to get some last "kisses". I finally had no choice. I had to leave when the child behind me "patiently" reminded me,"You said good-by already. It's time to leave!"
So I went off the bus. I did the whole waving routine and with a heavy heart I watched my son go. Then I saw what every mother loves to catch: My son was waving back and doing the same longing waving routine!
Thanks to your beautiful atricle, I'm going to do the same this year!

(58) Merrilee Morse, June 14, 2004 12:00 AM

What have you done to me?

My ten year old son is leaving for camp next week, and I am sitting here crying my heart out. What have you done to me? This article touched me as few have!

(57) Miryam Rabin, June 13, 2004 12:00 AM

This is VERY touching

I really like this article, it is truly a very touching one.It really states what Holocaust survivors must have felt, this story has really moved me.

(56) rachel, June 13, 2004 12:00 AM

Thank you for shareing your father's love with us. I hung on to every word, and cried.

A blessed Father's day.

(55) Anonymous, June 13, 2004 12:00 AM

Parental love

I always saw my daughter off to camp. She went to a private school so, maybe, that's why so many parents showed up. It was the same when the kids came back to the school. My daughter quipped that it was like watching bees gathering around the honey.
When I was a child I went to girl guide (scout) camp with my friend - in Scotland. Our mothers came to see us off but hid when we came back in a rag tag state.
When I left on the train that was to take me from Scotland on the first step of my journey to Australia a few of my family were there.
As the train started pulling out my father, who had never held me, never hugged me, came to the window and took hold of my hand. He held onto it until he couldn't keep up with the train. I didn't see them again for 12 or 13 years.

(54) Anonymous, June 13, 2004 12:00 AM

Where are the parents?

Rabbi Salomon's article is a sad but true commentary on our times. As a former teacher, my experience was that the parents of the children who needed them the most did not show up for Back to School Nights, and Parent's Visiting days. Today the excuse is that the parents are busy, but I taught many years ago, and it was the same. In a society where material achievements are more important than family values, I fear this is the trend of the future.

(53) margie eisenberg, June 13, 2004 12:00 AM

very very touching

sniff, sniff.....beautifully written. as a person who never liked camp, I got a big kick over your exhileration at attending!

(52) Marc, June 13, 2004 12:00 AM

I just want to say that I look forward to reading the various articles that AISH publishes. I read them and find comfort, inspiration and warmth which always buoys my mind and heart.

Sincerely,
M. Gelmon

(51) Anonymous, June 14, 2003 12:00 AM

this is beautiful and touching

my daughter is going to overnight camp for the first time this summer. I am going to miss her so much, but I am very excited for her too. I'm sure that me, my husband, my parents and my 2 younger daughters will be the last people at the camp bus departure area and we will all be crying. This is our oldest daughter. It will be hard but we willmake it. My husband never went to camp and is taking her departure very difficult. I try to remind him of the great camp friendships, experiences and learning how to become independent is also important.

(50) Judah Rosen, June 13, 2003 12:00 AM

sniffle

excuse me while i get a kleenex -

(49) Mark Glowatz, June 11, 2003 12:00 AM

You touched home

As a reader whose father's birthday is June 18 and a father who sent his kids off to camp reluctantly, I can't tell you how emotional your article made me. I thought it was brilliant. Thanks

(48) Leah Almaliach, June 10, 2003 12:00 AM

Happy Father's day

Thank you for this beautiful article.

(47) Maddie Saffy, June 19, 2002 12:00 AM

beautifully written

What ease! What honesty! How you tie the past to the present! This is the most moving article I have ever read in Aish!....What a message to parents and children! You capture the heart of a child and adult! Well written

(46) Anonymous, June 19, 2002 12:00 AM

Bittersweet tears

I have to be honest, I'm sitting here in front of my computer, my head inches away from the screen and trying my hardest to hide the fact that there are tears flowing down my cheeks. It is a beautiful piece, that you wrote and is bittersweet to me since I was one of those 'children' who saw themselves off to camp. I never felt upset at this prospect since I was just thankful to be able to go to camp, in a place where had non stop fun with friends with a similar background as I. However, my past is filled with a void of a Father that was never there. B'H I made the most of what I had and my Mother filled in (along with other relatives) who tried their best to be in 'his' place. It never could be but I was thankful for what I did have and not what I did not. (..... despite sitting alone in Shul on Shabbos morning, not knowing what it means to sit on my Fathers knee, or even the contradiction of the rough & tough on the outside but the love that is so tender on the inside. )

Now, it is mt strongest wish that Hashem should give me the ability to be the 'Father' for my kids. I Daven that I should make the right choices and that despite my mistakes that I might make that they should always know that they are loved.

(45) , June 18, 2002 12:00 AM

Beautiful

(44) Leah Almaliach, June 17, 2002 12:00 AM

Thank You!

Anoutstanding article, Thank you for giving a sense of wonderful bond you had with your father.

(43) Elyana BatAmmi, June 17, 2002 12:00 AM

Having just spent Father's Day at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC, this article is more poignant than ever. Thank you for sharing it.

(42) R.M. Grossblatt, June 17, 2002 12:00 AM

A message of love between a Holocaust survivor and his son.

Beautifully expressed. It made me cry.
Thanks.

(41) Deborah Scop, June 16, 2002 12:00 AM

Beautiful article. Thanks for sharing.

Your article had me absolutely bawling. First of all, my father's birthday is June 15th, also on, or right next to Father's Day every year. And although I don't remember my father sending me off to camp, it was in that camp that my husband met me for the first time, and because our parents sent us to that camp, is the reason we're married today. While I was reading your article I was thinking about something else entirely though. My darling husband and I just lost our baby to SIDS, and frankly I just can't even conceive of having another child, and not being so panicked that I would let him outside of my sight for a minute, let alone send him to camp. After coming face to face with death, having buried our baby bechor, it would take great courage to send a child off to a camp away from us. I wonder how we'll do it. I wonder how your father did it. I hope Hashem blesses us with many children so we'll be able to find out.

(40) Anonymous, June 16, 2002 12:00 AM

cost of living

When you have a home full of children the cost ot tuition, camp, bungalow, kosher food, weddings, bar mitzvas,insurances, mortgages, etc. you end up with both spouses working (and not in Brooklyn!!) therefore we are NOT at the busstop......

(39) sue gallion, June 16, 2002 12:00 AM

I truly loved this story. Thank you for sharing it.

My heart was touched when I read this story. I keep telling my son to cherish every second with his daughter (7 mo.)--time goes much too fast.

(38) Anonymous, March 12, 2002 12:00 AM

The Heart Of The Matter

I just discovered this talented writer, Yaakov Salomon and, after reading his very moving pieces, particularly the one about the boy going to camp and his dad's bitter-sweet good-bye, I had to write something in response. Having a son of my own and a relationship that I treasure with him, I feel these words as if they were mine. Great writing. Thanks for sharing this. It is a true honor to the father who so dearly loved you.

(37) , June 29, 2001 12:00 AM

That's a real father

I know the feeling, at least as a father. When my son grows up, I'll be there doing the same thing. What could be more important than for a child to know that I love him enough to need him to be around me. A beautiful story.

(36) CHANI HOLLANDER, June 27, 2001 12:00 AM

I can definitely relate to this article. I went to camp for over 9 years. My mom though was the faithfull watcher till the bus was out of sight. It too was bittersweet.

(35) Anonymous, June 26, 2001 12:00 AM

A parent's view

Thank G-d, I never went through what Rabbi Solomon's father did, but as a parent, it was always hard for me to wave good-bye (I stayed as long as I could)when my kids left for camp or yeshivah, seminary, etc. They always watched me, waiting to see when I would cry. They were always fine w/leaving me, even my oldest son when I took him for his first day of pre-primary at the Day school. I was prepared to steel myself for his cries, but instead he waved at me as he was taken into the class, saying "Bye, Mom!", leaving me to be the one to cry. I guess I did a good job of making them able to leave me - as they should.

(34) Dina Blaustein, June 19, 2001 12:00 AM

Yasher Koach For A Beautiful, Touching & Loving Story!

I was "touched" by this writing, because you clearly are sharing a vivid part of YOUR past, that we can ALL learn from. We must cling to every moment, with each and every person we love and care about. Thank you for the "reminder"..... as we tend to get too busy and may forget what is MOST important in life. The Torah & Mitzvos we strive to acquire, can be achieved with greater meaning, when remembering stories such as yours! Thank you, Dina

(33) Anonymous, June 19, 2001 12:00 AM

Beautiful !!

What a loving, heartfelt story! I admit feeling a twinge of envy at this close and demonstrative relationship (since my own familial memories are mainly absent or negative). Thank you, Rabbi, for this wonderful account!

(32) Ya'akov Medlock, June 19, 2001 12:00 AM

Oy. A life like yours ...

My father died in 1968. I was 8 and a half. At 12 in 1972 I left my mother and I went to live at a home for children (my mother passed away in 1995). At the home where I was for 7 years we went to camp at Lake Tahoe for a week every summer. It is a blessing when people like yourself are willing to share of their life with others. Thank you very much. Shalom.

(31) Anonymous, June 18, 2001 12:00 AM

To Jackie Salomon I remember that Trip to Camp Torah Vodaath. The only difference is that you were part of my memory .

(30) shmuel hager, June 18, 2001 12:00 AM

required reading

this is an article i will have to re-read a number of times. May we merit to give to and nuture our children all our lives.

(29) Anonymous, June 18, 2001 12:00 AM

Independence pays off

I'd like to voice some alternatives views from Rabbi Saloman. I have sent off my children to camp, Yeshiva, even simchas, by themselves. My sons always appreciated the confidence I gave them, buying their own air tickets (I provided the money), doing their own arranging. When I sent off my son (from Chicago) to Yeshivah (in New Jersey) in 9th grade, he said he didn't need anyone to walk him to the gate, he was old enough. The flight got delayed several hours due to weather. By the time he landed at Newark, and made his way to the taxis it was 1:00A.M. He discovered he had been pickpocketed. He called me the next day around midday to tell me what happpened. I said, in a concerned voice, "What did you do?" he responded," What do you think? I didn't say anything until I got to the school, acted surprised that I didn't have the money, told the taxi to wait, went into the dorm to borrow the money ($40). What did you want me to do? Call you at 1:00 A.M.? So we're ouot $40.00, it's not the end of the world." i said, "You're right, I'll deposit the money in your account."He was totally calm.I see many "grown up children" who haev always been totally "taken care of". As long as a parent shows love , care, and affection, the child can understand. There are several other times in life with all of my children that the lack of my being present was a registration of my confidence in them, and consequently, they are far more independent than their counterparts.

(28) Jane Topp, June 18, 2001 12:00 AM

A very touching story

...you made me cry.I think when we've had losses we cherish much more the time we have and know that each parting could be longer than expected,like your Dad.And to imagine the devastation of Holocaust partings is beyond us who have been priviledged to live in a time such as this,in countries where there has been peace for so many years.Thanks for sharing.

(27) Anonymous, June 17, 2001 12:00 AM

Delightful!

Enjoyed your story immensely. Thank you. Your effort is appreciated.

(26) Ya'acov Solomon, June 17, 2001 12:00 AM

Almost a mirror image !!!

Incredible similarity not only between our names but also the events that you just described. Except for a few differences I could very well have thought that you were writing about me! Thank you so much for renewing some wonderful memories. Much blessings for a wonderful day.

(25) Anonymous, June 17, 2001 12:00 AM

holocaust parent's behaviour

Dear Dr. Solomon
Thank you for your most moving essay about sleepaway camp and your insight regarding the particular meanings of separation between yourself and survivor parent. So poigant.

The sensitivity you express also means to me that your father respected something very essential - your inner space in which you developed into the successful and sharing human being you became. He gave you the gift of life and the gift for you to be you

(24) Anonymous, June 16, 2001 12:00 AM

Face in the Window made me cry

I did not have the above relationship
with my parents. How I wish I did, but
if they are in heaven when I get there, perhaps we can fix it.

(23) Kathy, June 16, 2001 12:00 AM

Great article

Thanks, now I feel like following the bus down the street when it left for camp with my kids will be remembered someday. Way to go Dad!!

(22) David A. Jones, June 16, 2001 12:00 AM

Reading the story out loud

I broadcast daily in Spanish in Chile. reading scripts is no problem.
However, we are far from our ten grandchildren in the States and Canada. They speak English only and periodically when I find something which might be uplifting to them, I record it on cassette and send it to them as from a grandfather.
As I started to read Face in the Window, I found it such a well-written story that I began to read out loud to myself, preparing myself to read it onto a cassette for the grandkids.
I felt it would be uplifting to them. So I began to read. (You ought to hear how you sound with my inflections!!!)
By the time I reached
"Bye-bye!"
"See you on Visiting Day!"
"Don't forget to write",
my voice broke, tears came to my eyes and I read the rest in silence.
Thank you for the well-written story.
I will try to send them the story - eventually when I can make it all the way through.

(21) Penny Robertson, June 15, 2001 12:00 AM

How touching

Thank you for letting us walk down Memory Lane with you and sharing such a beautiful time in your life. This Fathers Day leaves me with many sad and happy memories, also. I miss my precious Daddy, too. I also remember the Devil Dogs and things from childhood. You have left me with a warm place in my heart today. Be blessed!

(20) yitz twersky, June 15, 2001 12:00 AM

Thank you

My father passed away two weeks ago, and your article reminded me of this exact event in my life. Thank you for helping me remember this memory of my own father.

Yitz Twersky

(19) , June 14, 2001 12:00 AM

wow

that article made me cry and call my parents. as a writer i commend you on pulling in the reader and as a person i commend you on the deep insight on your father. fathers are funny beings, they show no emotion until their children are involved and we never fully understand this emotion as a child, it's embarrassing when we are young. thank you for sharing your story but it also points out another important thing... we as a society have left our children to either raise themselves or to be raised by older siblings....this story shows why parents need to be more involved and thank you for displaying that.

(18) Anonymous, June 14, 2001 12:00 AM

father's day article

outstanding article -- keep them coming

(17) Anonymous, June 14, 2001 12:00 AM

Beautiful story - brought a tear to my eyes !

Reminded me of my days going off to camp. At first, I missed my parents dearly. After a few days went by, I would start to become more acclimated to just being with other kids all day, week, month, summer.

To this day, I will always remember the sacrifices my parents made, in order to send me to summer camp. They too, had been children of the Holocaust & never knew from Summer camp.

I can onlt hope my child(ren) misses me as much as I missed my parents !

(16) Anne Herschman, June 14, 2001 12:00 AM

Cmments on Essay

You hit the nail on the head. In my class on Social Work w/ Holocaust Survivors the teacher (herself a survivor) told us that any kind of separation was very hard on survivors because in the past the good-byes were usually final. I remember my own parents bidding me good-bye for my first trip to Israel. They were so shaken that one would think that G-d forbid the plane had already crashed. Imagine what it took for your parents to put themselves through this every year because they knew it was good for you. After all, they could have sent you to a day camp. Thanks for a wonderful article. Anne

(15) Scott Riemersma, June 14, 2001 12:00 AM

We must have had the same father

Rav Salomon, you took me back 40 years. I never went to camp but the rest of the story is mine also. These tears of remembrance surely do feel good to the soul. A mitzva you have given me today.

B'shalom

(14) Anonymous, June 14, 2001 12:00 AM

Thank you for such a great article

Your story made my eyes water and my heart sing, from the beuty of your article. It made me appreciate just a little more what my parents sacrificed and countinue to sacrifice for me to this day.
-Thank you again

(13) Anonymous, June 14, 2001 12:00 AM

Inspiring

i liked the story, i also was that child with the parents and the bus going to camp- it brough back sweet memories.

(12) Chezi Goldberg, June 14, 2001 12:00 AM

Give me a tissue

Thank you so much for this special piece. It reminds me of what I have lost with my father's death; parental presence something many children do not have today.

It also helps remind me...that positive long term effect on a child when a father keeps on letting him know how much he loves his child....even as the bus pulls away.

Now, please pass me a tissue.

Chezi Goldberg
Israel

ay would not have been j

(11) , June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

what a tearjerker!

I was crying from the first sentence on ....what a tremendous man he must have been to have a son like you..keep it up

(10) Anonymous, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

i felt this article with all my
heart and soul....thanks

(9) Rabbi Leonard Oppenheimer, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

Wow!!!!

Thank you - very beautiful & moving ... I will share it with the shul

(8) Anonymous, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

Wonderful Story

My little brother is at camp for a few weeks, and I have been lonley without him around. Even in the silly, simple events, we are never alone. Thank you.

(7) Anonymous, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

Very touching

I don't cry easily, I've been through a lot. Endings, partings, they aren't easy when you've been ripped around. This article brought out the tears. Your Dad loved you very much, to show such deep emotion at only that time of year, breaking through his customary reserve.
Be well.

(6) sharon ernzen, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

I wish parents were still like that today

You had a very blessed life. I wish my family was like that.

(5) Simi Shain, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

Great Article!

Really conveys the love parents have for their children. What a loving father!

(4) Y Fried, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

Beautiful, touching & inspiring. A Father to look up to.

You definitely watered my eyes (which does'nt happen all too often) with this heart-warming/breaking article. For a man or woman to be able to look back in his childhood and have something as memorable as this, there's only one word to describe it in my book. BEAUTIFUL. Thank you again for another inspiring story.

(3) Anonymous, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

The most powerful article I've ever read

Wow! That sure blew me off my feet. This was the first article I ever read that actually made me cry. Maybe because I had a hard time going to camp as a kid... who knows. But wow... the tears just came and I lost it.

(2) Beverly Ventura, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

Wonder & inspring family story

Thank you for sharing

(1) Roslyn Zahn, June 13, 2001 12:00 AM

Rabbi Salamon brought back my own camp experiences.

My Daddy watched me 'till we couldn't see each other. He also just watched quietly as Momma read me the riot act.But then it was his turn.My yearly joy was only for 2 weeks.But he gave me enough candy to last, because he couldn't give me money.But my immigrant father,orphaned in Russia gave up cigaretts to buy us candy for special times, and to deposit the cigarette money in a "Christmas Club" account at a bank to have money for Chanukah gifts at Christmas time.This was his Goldena Medina.

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About the Author

Rabbi Yaakov Salomon

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Rabbi Yaakov Salomon, C.S.W. is a noted psychotherapist, in private practice in Brooklyn, N.Y. for over 25 years. He is a Senior Lecturer and the Creative Director of Aish Hatorah's Discovery Productions. He is also an editor and author for the Artscroll Publishing Series and a member of the Kollel of Yeshiva Torah Vodaath.

Rabbi Salomon is co-author, with Rabbi Noah Weinberg, of the best selling book "What the Angel Taught You; Seven Keys to Life Fulfillment," (Mesorah), and is also the co-producer of the highly-acclaimed film, "Inspired."

Click here to order Yaakov Salomon's new book, Salomon Says: 50 Stirring and Stimulating Stories.

In these marvelous stories -- brimming with wit, understanding, a touch of irony and a large helping of authentic Torah perspective -- we will walk with a renowned and experienced psychotherapist and popular author through the pathways of contemporary life: its crowded sidewalks, its pedestrian malls, and the occasional dead end street. This is a walk through our lives that will be fun, entertaining -- and eye-opening. In our full -- sometimes overfull -- and complex lives, Yaakov Salomon is a welcome and much-needed voice of sanity and reason.

His speaking, writing and musical talents have delighted audiences from Harvard to Broadway and everything in between. Rabbi Salomon shares his life with his wife, Temmy, and their unpredictable family.