The catch? I’d have to spend the summer in Camp Romimu
Rabbi Shmuel Morgenbesser, as told to Rabbi Moshe Dov Heber
I grew up in Albany, New York, in the 80s, in a warm Jewish home with the comfortable rhythms of small-town living. My mother had a deep desire for her children to stay connected to our roots, and she enrolled me and my siblings in the Hebrew day school run by the local Chabad shluchim, Rabbi Yisroel and Mrs. Rochel Rubin. The Rubins and their family were influential to so many of us, laying the groundwork for our Yiddishkeit.
When I was in eighth grade, the Jewish high school in Albany closed down — and there were no other local options. After some serious discussion, my parents decided that the best thing for me would be to move to Queens, where my grandparents lived, and continue my education there.
My parents had their eyes on Mesivta Yesodei Yeshurun, which had a reputation as a high-caliber mesivta. Though my English grades were good, my Gemara skills were not up to the school’s high standards, but my mother wouldn’t give up. She begged the menahel, Rabbi Aaron Kovitz, to give me a chance.
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