Three summers ago, I made a radical last minute decision to go to sleep away camp. Radical because at the time I was 17 and leaving home for the first time, and what isn’t extra dramatic when you’re 17?

I felt inexperienced with the whole camp world and I felt stupid for being nervous. But I was anxious… I was so uncomfortable with myself and had no idea who I was. It was a teen leadership camp called Kutz (part of the Union for Reform Judaism), and here I was, a rising senior with the last name Weinstein, going to Jewish Summer Camp for the first time.

My family and I headed up to New York all the way from South Florida. Being so far from home didn't make it any easier. My dad took me to my camp meeting place- Newark airport- where he bribed kids into being my friends by giving them French fries, because food conquers social anxiety. The camp was about 2 hours from Newark airport, in the middle of nowhere. I discovered this when I lost phone service about an hour into the bus ride. I arrived in the Village of Warwick, New York alone and scared considering I had to hike up a hill in God knows high of a temperature to my cabin. There was one girl in there and no bottom bunks left.

In that moment I pretty much figured I would end up falling off the bed that night, breaking my neck and that would be the end of it. The girl offered for me to take her top bunk, and I accepted because she seemed relatively normal and I had no idea what vicious beasts could be awaiting me in the other bunks. I had shipped up a box of bedding and was having a hard time getting the box open. The girl said she would help me find scissors, and we went down the hill on a mission. That was it. That was the defining moment. The scissors. It’s amazing how simple it is, but that is what eternally bonds us. During that walk down the hill, I learned that I was not the only one who almost had a panic attack driving through the gates. We were in the same boat, and there were others like us. We were in it together, and we have been ever since. On that first night we got maybe 3 hours of sleep because we were sharing our life stories. 

This is the story of how I met my best friend. 

I had chosen to go to camp because I was reaching a point in my life where things were changing. I grew apart from most of my friends, I was applying to colleges, the party scene was getting shoved in my face, and I was insecure to the point that it was unhealthy and hurting me. I had no expectations- part of me wanted to go so that I could figure out where my life was heading, and the other part was just saying “screw this, I don’t want to sleep in a cabin with 18 other girls”. Even with the negative thoughts creeping in, I spent 5 days at home deciding what I was going to wear on the first day of camp (this ultimately included my trademark feather earring only in ONE ear which somehow became a trend). I spent 5 hours psyching myself up to leave the hotel for the airport. I spent 5 minutes in my cabin before I realized I had found a home. I truly believe that this was due to Rachel (shout out to Alpha O at Miami University for having such an awesome sister). We spent endless nights catching up on what we had missed during the past 17 years, naming the giant spider (Archibald) that was living in my window, getting yelled at for laughing too loudly, and letting each other cry out whatever we needed.

After the four weeks of camp, we visited each other and kept in constant contact. The following summer we were both on staff in different Site Team capacities, but we continued our tradition of sharing a bunk (I really hate the top but I can’t mess up tradition). Last summer, we became counselors. We saw ourselves in our cabins- the girls who did not want to be there when they arrived, who came in knowing no one, and leaving having found their soul mates. Nothing is more beautiful than the next generation.

Rachel would be there for me no matter what. She proved this by taking time out of her summer to take a long bus ride to be there for me during my hardest, most painful time. There was no hesitation and no questions asked. This past summer, I made the difficult decision not to return to the Kutz camp. I knew I would miss the beautiful grounds, the amazing people, and everything else that came with the community of the camp. Mostly, I would miss having unlimited time with my best friend.

Fortunately for me, I live on the beach and that was just another incentive for her to come visit me after camp. So I am sitting on the couch, typing this with Rachel sitting next to me, unsuspecting. I can honestly say that she has taught me everything about being a true friend. She’s not afraid to call me out when I need it, tells me when my butt looks bad in jeans, and doesn’t care that I’m doing “homework” while she sits next to me doing her online shopping (Joke’s on you Rachel, you’re about to become Odyssey famous). 

This isn't just about me and my friendship. There were so many other connections that were made that summer, so many best friendships formed.  In retrospect, living in a cabin was like living in the sorority house. You are there for every girl and you know that you have a safe place to go when you need it. If you're considering going to camp- as a camper or staff- I say GO, without hesitation. I would give Kutz a plug in a heartbeat. Some of the most amazing people who are in my life are the ones I met there. It seems to me though that when you go to camp and you put your all in it, you are given back more than you came in with. I've seen this happen at Kutz, I've seen it happen at Coleman and Ramah, and I've seen it happen at not-Jewish camps (they exist). I owe so much to Kutz, my hot cabin (we were actually voted hottest cabin of 2011), my RA's, and the beautiful souls I was surrounded by during the three summers I spent there. I simultaneously peed my pants with another girl because we were laughing so hard while working in the kitchen, and that was almost socially acceptable there... Almost. I owe my journey through yoga to an amazing camp instructor who I will forever be connected with, thanks to his knack for keeping an eye out for me. Camp is where the magic happens. 

So here I am, three years later. I think I’m closer to figuring out who I am, but I’m definitely not there yet. I still get nervous in strange situations, but I’ve accepted it. I now know the ins and outs of camp works, and have mastered the skill of giving people food as bribes. I have this beautiful little place up in Warwick, New York that I am lucky enough to call my second home. And I have my best friend by my side until the end. We may be in different sororities, go to different schools, and live in different states, but we couldn’t be more alike. I found the one friend who will be my maid of honor, the Godmother of my children, and my partner in crime racing wheelchairs down at the old folks home in 70 years.

Rachel, you may drop your salad off your fork when you try to eat in front of boys, but I don't care. You truly are an amazing friend, and I love you!