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June 17, 2005
Seraphic Encounter
The continuing story of the author's love for his wife, Karen. It began when the author was nine-years old, in the fourth grade in Yeshiva Flatbush. It's a long story and this series will continue for, well, until I finish telling the tale.
The basketball game was over. We lost, big time. Our camp, Hili, was playing Camp Beaver Lake, another Orthodox sleep-a-way camp. At a certain point during the game, I looked up and there she was. Karen was sitting in the bleachers watching the game. Well, not really watching. It was clear she wasn't terribly interested. She was with a group of girls, the alpha group, all of them pretty and smart and unapproachable.
It was 1967. I was point-guard for my camp team, a short but scrappy player with a decent jump shot. My team counted on me for at least ten points a game plus a bunch of assists. But once I saw Karen, my game collapsed. I wanted to be a hero, rip up the court, show her how good I was. But, naturally, I missed every shot. I passed and the ball got stolen. It was gruesome.
Karen was a sight, sitting courtside, wearing cute khaki shorts, and hardly-skuffed white Keds. The fact that she ignored the game, was not aware of my existence just drove me into a pit of despair.
She attended Yeshiva Flatbush high school and I was at, BTA, Brooklyn Talmudical Academy. Sometimes I would see her at Yeshiva League basketball games, at the pizza shop on Avenue J. I was still madly in love with her. And she was blossoming into a rare beauty. The other pretty girls knew they were pretty. You could see their game, the way they flipped their hair every twelve seconds.
But Karen was different. She wore her beauty with obvious discomfort. Her body language was devoid of the traditional teen-girl tactics. Every once in a while I would see her with a boy. She would speak directly, abandoning all the cute little flirtatious giggles that the other girls cultivated into an art form. Though Karen was an adolescent, she was already a woman.
I dreamed about her. I wrote stories about her. I composed bad poetry dedicated to her. I imagined that I would end up marrying some perfectly nice girl, but I'd always secretly be in love with Karen. I would live a hopeless and helpless life.
The game was over. I managed to maneuver close to Karen.
I am a lunatic movie lover and so, naturally, I'm thinking of David Lean's towering and tragic love story, Brief Encounter.
“Hi,” I said, “you're Karen Singer, right?”
Smooth.
She looked at me, obviously had no idea who I was.
“Yes, I am and you're... ?”
“Robert, Robert Avrech.”
“Oh, right, hi.”
Pause. Awkward silence.
“Well, nice to see you,” I said.
I totally missed my line of dialog: Shall I see you again. Please, please, I ask you most humbly.
I did not see or speak to Karen for another nine years.
To be continued.
Karen adds: My first response when I read this entry was, "Was I really different from the other girls?" Then I thought about it. Yes, I followed the fads, but there was always a feelings of dis-ease, a sense of not really belonging, of not feeling so comfortable in my skin. One example. The epitome of queenbeehood was becoming a cheerleader. I entered the "booster" freshman sort of hazing phase, but passed on trying out for the treasured spots on the cheerleader squad. It just didn't feel right. I told myself at the time that I was probably just afraid of being rejected, but a part of me also acknowledged that it felt immodest to parade in front of the crowd in a very short skirt. So I removed myself from the Alpha squad and thus my clique changed and I was relegated to a hazy area between the "brains" and the "popular" groups. Robert was right, I didn't really belong.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at June 17, 2005 09:14 AM
Comments
Seraphic Secret is private property, that's right, it's an extension of our home, and as such, Karen and I have instituted two Seraphic Rules and we ask commentors to act respectfully.
1. No profanity.2. No Israel bashing. We debate, we discuss, we are respectful. You know what Israel bashing is. The world is full of it. Seraphic Secret is one of the few places in the world that will not tolerate this form of anti-Semitism. That's it. Break either of these rules and you will be banned.
Robert -
It's a good thing we know that you get the girl in the end, otherwise these would be too painful to read!
Shabbat Shalom - chana@yicc
Posted by: chana at June 17, 2005 01:11 PM
"I did not see or speak to Karen for another few years."...this story is torturous! You so beautifully describe feelings that I remember feeling as a young girl, but never thought the boys were feeling. Of course, I now know that boys were no different in their insecurities...but it's heartwarming to read your description of a young man's thoughts, fears, and desires. Looking forward to the next installment!
Posted by: Randi W. at June 17, 2005 02:06 PM
Chana, Randi, Thanks so much for your comments. I still have trouble believing that the story has a happy ending. Every morning, I wake up, look at Karen and smile with joy.
Posted by: Robert at June 17, 2005 03:15 PM
All the best people I know are misfits or feel they don't belong in some way - even those who, on the surface, appear to belong. That feeling of difference can feel like a curse when you're a kid, though (and sometimes still when you're an adult).
As always, keep these coming. I can't tell you how much I look forward to each installment.
Posted by: Jackie Danicki at June 18, 2005 10:27 AM
I went to camp hili in 1963 when I was 6yrs old. I have some interesting memories of it and was wondering if you were there that summer.
Posted by: Jay at October 4, 2005 04:42 PM
I was one of the guys in the 60's who was a BTA guy and yearned to date a Flatbush girl. Thanks for bringing back those memories
Posted by: Hesh Reinfeld at April 21, 2007 07:00 PM
Hesh:
You're very welcome. BTW, did you ever date a Flatbush girl?
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.seraphicpress.com/nav-commenters.gif)
at April 21, 2007 09:17 PM
Yes,
I had to wait until I was at Brooklyn college.
Posted by: Hesh Reinfeld at July 8, 2007 04:13 PM
Hope it was worth the wait.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at July 8, 2007 06:31 PM
I was a CIT at Camp Hili in 1967. That was my 3rd summer there. What bunk were you in, because I don't remember your name.
Posted by: michael zelkowitz at April 8, 2008 02:45 PM
I was a CIT at Camp Hili in 1967. That was my 3rd summer there. What bunk were you in, because I don't remember your name.
Posted by: michael zelkowitz at April 8, 2008 02:46 PM
Michael:
Thanks for writing.
I have no idea what bunk I was in. I can remember every shot from “Citizen Kane,” but details from camp are really hazy.
Sorry.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at April 8, 2008 04:21 PM
my cousins were in flatbush...and my brothers and sister and i flew all the way from LA to go to camp hili in the mid 60's. who was in your bunk?
great camp. great memories.
"the boys of camp hili all seem to be..."
Posted by: jill at June 25, 2008 10:54 PM
Jill:
Sorry, I'm embarrassed to admit that I just don't remember who was in my bunk.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at June 26, 2008 09:16 AM