I t had always been a point of pride for Chaim Reimer that he and his family were home in Brooklyn for the Shabbos before Visiting Day. The shul was nearly empty with only a few elderly men and some other unfortunates left behind.
“It’s for people who have no koach no money or no friends ” Chaim would cheerfully tell Rivky when he’d come home and she would gamely smile. One year he’d even given a kiddush the full Neiman’s “all included” menu — the extra-creamy herring three types of salad (excluding sushi) and both potato and lukshen kugel — his gesture of respect for those who stayed behind.
Last year Grunstein — his wife was overdue and about to give birth at Harris Hospital — told his friends after the summer that he’d never seen Chaim Reimer in such good spirits as at that kiddush.
Now at eleven o’clock on Friday morning Erev Shabbos Visiting Day Chaim stood idly watching cars pull in and out of camp. There was a certain energy to the Catskills on a regular Friday but this was special: he’d been in Woodridge earlier that day to buy Rivky the magazines and newspapers that she wouldn’t have time to open and there was an undeniable headiness at having been released from the hot city. It was kind of nice Chaim thought people walking leisurely exchanging overly loud and friendly greetings acting so very unlike their usual Brooklyn selves.
