C haim came back into the small office but found himself unable to sit. The stream of Visiting Day traffic — exuberant mothers tolerant fathers — passed by his window on the way to the bunkhouses. A chubby boy was jumping up and down and excitedly telling his parents “Ta Mommy that’s the basketball court where I got that basket I told you about on the phone. The one that tied that game? Remember?”
Chaim stood up walked over to the open window and listened to the swirl of lively chatter.
“Hey look that’s the camp driver his name is Pinny ” said one boy in a New York Mets cap. “He drove us home from Walmart but we had to hike there it was crazy. I felt like I would faint.”
And this from a father in a light green tennis shirt: “Malky are there any families we know who send their children here? I don’t recognize a soul.”
