I feel a responsibility to share my story, recounting how my young campers saved my life
Ihad just finished davening at Chabad of the Five Towns in New York, where I lived, before Shavuos 2001, when fellow mispallel Dr. William Muller approached me.
“I have a summer job for you,” he said.
It was in Columbia, South Carolina, of all places. Dr. Muller explained that several frum families in the area — Chabad shluchim, one of whom is his son, and some other locals and visitors — needed someone to run a program in June between school and sleepaway camp.
“You’ll have your own car, your own apartment, and access to a private pool,” he said — all things that appeal to a 19-year-old.
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