Amidst fire, A 2020 Holiday Miracle
Signs and “Signs” of hope for the year to come. You’ll see.
It’s been two years. WOW. Two years since I visited the rubble. Now it’s 2020. And I visited again. This time, I found one “sign” of hope and also MANY signs of hope.
I went to Camp Hess Kramer, founded by my Grandfather 70 years ago, in Malibu, CA over Thanksgiving. Our very extended family’s tradition is to go there for Thanksgiving. People of all races, creeds and cultures. A 70 year tradition. Two years ago in 2018 that tradition was halted because the camp burned down in the massive forrest fires, days before Thanksgiving. I went that year and it was emotional, disturbing and sad. It was 2018 and all felt pretty desolate. I obviously had no idea what was to come.
For additional context, you can read my article from 2018 on my page on Medium about this experience. I’ve been to camp to visit since, but this time, this 2020 Thanksgiving, was different. I went by myself, like I did two years ago. I arrived with a similar dread. Alone for thanksgiving? A pandemic? Racial injustice rampaging the streets, something my Grandfather fought against his entire life. More fire ravaged sadness? Burnt structures in a the midst of a country in disarray? What was I doing?
But I arrived, walked in and immediately felt hope and possibility. I looked around, the burnt out structures are gone. And there I saw the first signs of hope — the hawks, rabbits, trees and leaves were shining. Wow, this must be what it was like when Rabbi Alfred Wolf discovered this land 70 years ago, deciding to make it a place for all.
A place for hope. A place for life. Coming from Nazi Germany, he had found a place for what America can stand for. And now, looking around, here it is again, with the country is peril, it is ready for round two. He would be excited for all that’s to come. I felt it. From deep inside. I felt it.
And then, the second “sign” was more personal. We have all been through the ringer of late. I won’t lather in my personal despair. But it’s there. We all know all that’s been going on and all that is unknown.
Upon my visit to Camp as the fire was still smoldering in the rubble, I wrote two years ago (scroll below on my page for the article describing this miraculous experience), about how it was too impossible to be true that the wooden sign that stands next to the giant Menorah above the Pacific Coast Highway, the wooden sign that says “Rabbi Alfred Wolf Inspiration Point,” had been untouched by the fires while everything around it, below it, and to the side of it had burnt to a crisp.
Well, this time I noticed a second sign. There is one cabin still standing at camp. Of all the dozens of buildings, one wooden cabin stands. The rubble is gone so I went to get a closer look. That one wooden cabin still standing untouched, has a sign on it for the name of the cabin. That sign is “Miriam.” That was my Grandmother’s name. My Grandparents, well, they were a team. Without Alfred there is no camp. Without Miriam there is no camp.
And alas, as we see this beautiful land as they first saw it, they are still there. Both their signs, both their names, still standing, untouched. Some would call it a double miracle. I’ll leave that to the imagination. What I’ll call it is hope. Hope for resilience. Hope for possibility. Hope for progress. Hope that these hallowed grounds will be a symbol for a new rebirth. For our country, for our camp and for ourselves. I’m sure my grandparents are looking down at camp, with smiles on their faces. The signs are there. Now it’s up to us.
— Aaron
