From camp, to marriage

Rabbi Lipszyc's Story of the Week No sponsor this week :-( To Sponsor the story of the week, Contact Mendy at 513-456-7595 There was one other personal lasting effect of that summer in Dora Golding which I believe was also orchestrated by the Rebbe.  As I mentioned in last week’s story, when I got to the bus stop (two days after the rest of the staff) I called the camp to have the camp driver pick me up. I mentioned that to my chagrin, a girl had answered the phone. I was eventually to find out a little more about this girl, who she was and how she ended up the secretary of the camp, also thanks to the Rebbe. This girl was a baalas teshuva from a traditional family in New Jersey, who together with her younger sister became shomer Torah u’mitzvos through the efforts of their Rabbi, Refoel Grossman and the local chapter of NCSY. After she finished high school, she went to Stern College where she became a student of Rabbi Dr. Alter Ben Tzion Metzger. Thus began her personal journey in darkei hachassidus and connection to the Rebbe Nosi Doreinu.  One of her many talents, was in arts and crafts. Just before the above mentioned summer season in 1969, she was offered the position of arts and crafts counsellor in the girls’ camp of Gan Israel in Michigan. She happily accepted and wrote to the Rebbe for a brocha to have a successful summer there. She was a bit surprised at the somewhat cryptic reply she received. The Rebbe’s brocha came with the condition that her parents were in agreement that she should go to that camp. If not, the Rebbe continued, then she should find a job in a local Jewish camp. Having no inkling that anything was amiss, she mentioned to her parents that she planned to go to Michigan as arts and crafts counsellor in a girls camp. She was totally unprepared for her mother’s reaction. Her mother argued that all year she was away from home (in Stern College in Manhattan) and she wants her home for the summer. The Rebbe’s answer was no longer cryptic, she already had been told by the Rebbe what she had to do. But where was she going to find a local Jewish camp where she could apply for a job, especially right before the camping season?  The only camp she knew of nearby was a specialized program for handicapped children, requiring staff with special needs training.  She asked the advice of her mentor, Rabbi Metzger, who told her that there was a boys camp just two miles from her house and that in fact, Camp Dora Golding was looking for a local girl to do the bookkeeping for their office. She was hesitant to take on such a job since she had no experience in bookkeeping, but Rabbi Metzger convinced her that what they were looking for was just someone to jot down numbers of income and expenses and answer the phone. So she took the job.  Three weeks into camp, the mashgiach of the kitchen, Rabbi Zelman (whom I had become somewhat close with while working on changing the kitchen to cholov Yisroel) came over to me and said “do you know that the office girl is a Lubavitcher, she has a picture of the Rebbe on her desk.” Of course, I had no way of knowing that since I never went into the office especially since I knew there was a girl working there. Rabbi Zelman asked if he could speak a shidduch between us. In order for you to understand my response, I need to back up a bit. My mother wanted to find me a shidduch already for quite some time, but I was not interested. My mother argued that if she wouldn’t look, I could miss my opportunity. That it is possible to bypass a shidduch if I would keep refusing to go out. So I made a deal with my mother: meanwhile she wouldn’t actively look, but if something would come up “on its own,” then I would pass the suggestion on to her and she could check if the girl would be appropriate for me. My mother agreed with the compromise, so when Rabbi Zelman mentioned a shidduch with this office girl I felt I had to keep my part of the deal with my mother and passed it on. When my mother checked her out, she gave her approval and Rabbi Zelman spoke the shidduch. None of the dates went as planned and only G-d Himself could make such a shidduch work.  For the first date, I made up that since she only lived two miles from camp, on Shabbos afternoon, when I had an official day off, I would walk over and spend a few hours with her at her house as a first time get together. I didn’t give her an exact time (just “in the afternoon,”) and later found out she’d sat around all afternoon waiting for me to show up, which I did at around 5:00. Definitely not a good start. The first impression of the clothes I was wearing, also had to have left a bit to be desired, and I’ll explain why. If you remember, I missed the first two days of orientation. During those first two days it was explained how the camp worked. The summer season was broken into three sessions of three weeks each, called “trips.” This camp was made especially for underprivileged children and in order to give as many children as possible a chance for a camping experience, after each three week period (with very few exceptions) all the children went home, to make room for a new group of children to attend the next session. During the first two days of orientation it was also explained how these trip changes would take place. Half the staff would go with the buses transporting the children back to the city, and then return with the new batch of campers. While that was happening the other half of the staff who remained in camp would clean, freshen and prepare the camp for the arrival of the new campers. Part of the cleaning process was to completely hose down the inside of the bunks. Of course, the counsellors who were on the buses and accompanied the campers into the city were warned to make sure that they packed all their clothes and took them out of the bunks before they left. All this was explained during the first 2 days of orientation, which i missed. Of course, I was chosen to accompany the first group of campers going into the city. And, as you probably guessed, since I had no clue about the “hosing down” my bunk was about to get, I did not pack and put out of the way my clothes. And of course, what kind of a camp would it be if the counsellors weren’t a bunch of pranksters and clowns. So when they saw that Itchie “the Lubavitcher” as I was known had all his clothes out, they hosed all my clothes (including my just dry cleaned Shabbos suit, etc.) Trip change day was Thursday, so when we got back that night, and I saw what happened, I knew I had a problem. There was no way I could get my suit cleaned and pressed before Shabbos. And of course, that was the Shabbos when I was going on my first date! So I went to Rabbi Zelman and explained the problem, and we both burst out laughing when he said, “only to you Itchie, could this happen!” Rabbi Zelman said he would see what he could do. So he borrowed a pair of pants from one guy (about my size) a jacket from another (a bit short) and a shirt from someone else. As I said, for trying to make a good first impression, it definitely wasn’t the correct approach. Believe it or not, she actually agreed to go out with me on a second date.  Now, since this was still during the camp season I had to figure out where to go locally, especially since the choices were very limited. Asbury Park was a big amusement park about half an hour away. It was a favorite of all the staff. Once the campers were put to sleep, those staff members who didn’t have night duty, would love to go there. I surely didn’t want to bump into anyone from camp while on a date, so I chose a night when there was a staff meeting. When I informed Dovid Himber that I wouldn’t be able to attend the meeting he was very annoyed and frankly he was quite surprised. He knew I was really a committed staff member. He knew that even on my days off I didn’t leave camp grounds. He knew he could count on me if he needed extra things done, and yet when one Shabbos (the Shabbos I went on my first date) he needed someone to take a learning group I adamantly refused, and now again I was shirking my responsibility in refusing to attend a staff meeting?!? I knew he was confused, so I told him that if he felt the need, he could speak with Rabbi Zelman who knew the reason why.  I went to pick up my date that night. I knew there were buses that went to Asbury Park, but I didn’t know which bus nor directions how to go. I had assumed (wrongly as it turned out) that since my date was a local girl, for sure she would know the directions. (It wasn’t until many years later that I learned the saying “to assume is to make an ass of u and me!”) When I asked her directions she said that she had no idea since whenever she went it was with her father driving. We were told how to get to the bus, but were talking, and must have missed a turn.  We ended up on a farm!  Finally we found the bus stop.  We waited for what seemed like an eternity, when the bus finally came along.  We were walking along the boardwalk and I saw a miniature golf course and we agreed to go in for a game. As we were playing, one of her non-Jewish classmates from high school came over and recognizing each other, she joined us for a few minutes with her date – a priest! I kid you not. So here we have the beginnings of all the well-known classic jokes, a priest and a rabbi were playing golf…. Soon it was quite late and time to head home. We figured we had some more time to talk while on the bus, but no such luck. At the very next stop a whole group of the waiters from camp got on the bus. Yes I planned the date for a night of a staff meeting so this wouldn’t happen, but as it was only a meeting for counsellors, the waiters were all in Asbury Park ready to meet up with us. B”H, since they were Young Israel type of guys they had no clue that we were on a shidduch. They of course knew both of us, but they thought we were “just out on a date.” So they came over and sat with us for the duration of the ride. So the second date was far from an ideal “shidduch – get to know each other date.” Yet again, although hard to believe, she agreed to a third date.  Please believe me, as crazy and impossible as it sounds, this third date happened exactly as I’m telling it. Camp had just ended the Thursday before Labor Day weekend. We agreed to go out (in New York) on Sunday of Labor Day weekend. Now being a yeshiva bachur I didn’t have the slightest clue as to where is it appropriate for a bachur to take a girl on a shidduch date. So I asked my oldest sister for some ideas. She told me three places: The Empire State Building; Rockefeller Center; and the Aquarium. As a yeshiva bachur, I really had zero experience with any of this. I sat down and tried to figure out where to go. My thinking went as follows: The Empire State Building a very tall building. Yes it had elevators, but I had heard that the last few floors you had to walk. Who wants to walk upstairs, and for what, to look out windows at the sky? It really didn’t sound too exciting to me; Rockefeller Center a place outside in mid-Manhattan to sit and talk. I was always a guy of action. I’m thinking to myself what could possibly be so exciting about that?!? The Aquarium, now I really didn’t know what an aquarium was (I was a yeshiva bachur all my life and never really went anywhere) I just knew it had something to do with fish. So I’m thinking to myself “well at least there’s some life there!” So I decide, ok I’ll take her to the aquarium. I called up the Aquarium office to make sure they would be open on Sunday and when they confirmed their hours (noon to 5 p.m.) I looked up the address in the Brooklyn White Pages. Ah, but here I made a mistake. The address written was like 221 B 54th St. (not positive of the exact house number nor street number, but something like that.) My mistake was that I read the B (after the house number) as connected to the house number (221 A; 221 B; 221 C) rather than connected to the Street number (as in Beach 54th; Beach 55th; etc.) So I got directions to a totally different (and quite far away) neighborhood than where the Aquarium was. My date, being quite a bit more savvy than I, knew that we were nowhere near the water (where the Aquarium would need to be) but kept quiet and showed no sign of realizing that I was way off track. Finally we came to the street where I thought the Aquarium would be, parked the car and started looking for the house number. Besides the neighborhood being a bit seedy, it was clear to her from the style of housing that this was not the Aquarium, but she still remained mum and didn’t say a word. We came to a store with a neon fish hanging in the window, so I figured this must be it (thinking the Aquarium was in the back of the store.) The problem? The store was closed. So I started apologizing that I couldn’t understand how this could be – I’d called on Friday, and they said they would be open!  Of course, at that point she realized that I had no clue as to what an Aquarium was and really thought this could be the Aquarium. She gave a shy smile, but still did not give any hint that I was totally off base. After apologizing profusely for having somehow gotten the wrong information about it being open, I said “okay, let’s go to the Empire State Building.” So back to the car we went and drove to midtown Manhattan. After parking we went into the Empire State Building to hear the following announcement: “Attention please! For the first time in the history of the Empire State Building, our observation deck will be closed, due to zero visibility.” I went over to the information desk and explained that the visibility wasn’t important to us and we would like to go up anyway. “No can do,” said the attendant. “Once the decision to close it for the day was made, no one can go up.”  So back to the car. “Ok,” I said, “I guess it’s Rockefeller Center after all.” We parked the car again and found our way to Rockefeller Center and found a nice spot to sit and talk when suddenly the skies opened up and it began to pour, so we had to run back to the car. We started to drive and I was trying to think where do we go now? I managed to go through my sister’s 3 suggestions in just one date! As I was driving I saw a telephone booth so I said, “I have no more ideas where to go, I’ll stop and call my mother for some more ideas." I pulled over to the side and ran to the phone booth to call my mother. I told her what happened and asked her where else can I take my date? My mother asked me if I’m still with the girl, to which I replied yes. My mother yelled out in horror, “you’re on a date and you’re calling your mother? Are you out of your mind?!?” I was totally lost here, as to what the problem was. So my mother, thinking I’m a lost cause, asked “have you stopped anywhere to eat?” I said “no.” So she said “it’s quite a few hours already, she’s got to be hungry, stop in a restaurant for something to eat.” “But I have no idea where there are kosher restaurants in Manhattan!” So my mother gave me the names and addresses of two kosher restaurants in Manhattan.  One was on Delancey St. on the “Lower East Side,” while the 2nd one was up in Washington Heights. I ran back to the car, and “lo and behold” my date was still there waiting for me. I figured since the restaurant on Delancey St. was on the way back to Brooklyn, it made more sense to go there. So I said, “okay let’s go to a restaurant and have something to eat.” Once again we parked and walked over to the restaurant on Delancey St. and there was a big sign on the window – CLOSED FOR THE SUMMER -- WILL REOPEN THE DAY AFTER LABOR DAY! Back to the car and we drove all the way up to Washington Heights. Still again, we parked and walked over to the restaurant to see the front boarded up and a big sign: DUE TO FIRE, CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!!! Great, and now I couldn’t even call my mother. Then I remembered that when my oldest brother got married (many years earlier) we had sheva brachos in a restaurant in Boro Park. I remembered it was on 12th Avenue, though not exactly where. I remembered it was on the 2nd floor and I believe the name was Schick’s. So back to the car and quite a drive from Washington Heights to Boro Park. Lots of time for talking!  By the time we got there and parked the car it was just after 11:00 p.m.  As we were walking up the stairs a man (with his back to us) was obviously locking up. I called out in frustration, “You’re not locking up, are you?” And this kind old man with a long white beard looked down at us, and realized that this looked like a shidduch that’s not having much success, so he said with a smile “no, just opening up,” as he turned the key to once again open the door.  He sat us down at a table and went to get us two menus. I told him “thank you for your kindness, but we don’t need anything special, just whatever you have left over.” “No,” he insisted, “please pick whatever you want, I know how to cook and will make it myself.” A true angel, whom I believe that Hashem must have given him a special reward for that special act of kindness. I picked up my date that Sunday at 12:00 noon and returned her to her apartment at 12 midnight, but at that moment I knew without a doubt -- if she could go through such an experience without getting bent out of shape, then this girl will be able to take anything that life will throw her way, so she’s the girl I want to marry.  The next day, I introduced her to my parents, and afterwards as we were leaving my mother bent over and whispered into my ear, “you chose well.” As I was driving her home I asked her what she would be doing the next day, and to my surprise she answered that she was going to register for college. I had no idea that she was attending college, and hadn’t really wanted a girl who went to college. She correctly read my reaction, and right away added that she hadn’t wanted to go to college, but the Rebbe told her to go. So with that I was fine. I wanted to propose to her the next day, but I wasn’t sure if she would accept. I felt that if I drove her to register and proposed and she said no, it would place us both in an awkward position.  Should I then just drop her off at the college and leave, or hang around until after registration? So I told her, I would drive her to the registration and drop her off because I had to go home to prepare a test for my students for the next morning. That way if she said no to the proposal, my dropping her off wouldn’t seem abrupt. As she later told me, when I spoke about taking her only one way to register she thought I was going to tell her my parents hadn’t approved of her and the shidduch was off. I went home that night and asked an older brother, who had a name as “a smooth operator” when it came to women, how to propose. He told me that with that I’m on my own. So the next day I drove her to register for Brooklyn College. I thought to myself that I would propose when we stopped at a red light. When we stopped at the first light, I couldn’t think of what to say, so I put it off for the next red light. The same thing happened at the second, third and fourth lights as well. At the next light, I just turned to her and blurted out “Well, it’s the fifth red light and I’m ready to write to the Rebbe, how about you?” Although she couldn’t figure out what the 5th red light had to do with it, she right away responded that she too was ready. We each wrote separately to the Rebbe asking if this was the right shidduch.  She wrote immediately and went with a roommate to bring her letter to 770.  I went to the mikvah  and wrote a detailed letter.  I took it into the Merkos office and put it into what I thought were the piles of letters for the Rebbe. We then agreed to check with each other through the day(s) to see if either or both received answers. For two weeks, I checked after each of the tefillos which was when the Rebbe would generally give his responses. No answer, not to me, not to her. Twice daily I would call her, and twice daily she would ask “do you think we should write in again?” and I said “no, when the Rebbe is ready, he will answer us.”  Finally, on Erev Sukkos, I pulled Rabbi Klein a”h to the side and explained that the answer I was waiting for was in reference to a shidduch. Rabbi Klein was surprised, since the Rebbe always answered immediately when the question was about a shidduch. So Rabbi Klein recommended that I speak to Rabbi Hodakov. I went over to Rabbi Hodakov and told him what was happening. Rabbi Hodakov asked me when I had given in the letter. When I responded the “night before Rosh Hashana,” he burst out laughing and said that the Rebbe must have prayed hard and blown shofar over this shidduch, because for sure our letters had gone into the pile of “panim” that all chassidim give to the Rebbe Erev Rosh Hashana. Rabbi Hodakov asked for a copy of the letters and told me to wait there. He took it right in to the Rebbe and brought me back an answer within minutes. The answer was that I was to ask a Rav. [Since I am a Kohein and she was adopted (her parents died when she was just 9 and then 11 years old) there were some necessary clarifications about her natural parents that needed answering before she would be allowed to marry a Kohein.] I immediately went to Rav Zalmon Shimon Dworkin a”h, clarified everything, received his ok and wrote again to the Rebbe the Rav’s response and we received the Rebbe’s bracha. So mazel tov! We became choson and kallah on Erev Sukkos 5730.  There is another incident worth mentioning in this unique saga. My mother was very nervous about me. She knew my dream was to go on shlichus and she also knew that many girls did not want to go on shlichus. So my mother was afraid that if I would say right up front that I planned on going on shlichus I would ruin my chances with shidduchim. So my mother turned to me one day and said that she wanted me to give her my word that I will not speak about going on shlichus until after we get engaged. I told my mother that I have no problem giving my word to that effect, since the girl I will be”H marry, will have shlichus in her blood, so we won’t have to talk about it beforehand. One of my sisters-in-law was a big cynic, and she heard the conversation, so she snickered and said, “yea, you go on believing that.” After we received the Rebbe’s bracha, I took my kallah around to meet all my siblings and their spouses. When I introduced my kallah to this particular sister-in-law, the first thing she did was to aggressively ask her, “Aha!  Did he speak to you about shlichus?” My kallah was taken totally by surprise and couldn’t understand where this “attack” was coming from. She looked at me for some kind of a clue as to how to answer, but I just shrugged and told her tell her the truthful answer. So my kallah hesitatingly said to her, “no, we never spoke about it, I just assumed that we will go.” When she saw my face light up with a broad smile, she knew that she had given the most perfect answer possible! And thus was a true match made in Heaven, because there certainly was nothing natural about it! Thus Leah-Mindle Mandel soon became Leah-Mindle Lipszyc. Side note. There were other stories that happened while in Camp Dora Golding, among them.... One day we went on a trip to town.  Another counselor and I decided to play a prank.  I   called the camp office, where the girl picked up the phone, and I said “This is Bill from the telephone company.  We’re fixing the lines, and you have to make sure nobody uses the phones for the next hour, or someone could get electrocuted.”  I didn’t realize that the phone company actually was coming that day.  The secretary told this to the camp director, Mr. Friedman, who was a very serious guy, with absolutely no sense of humor.  He ran around the entire camp, telling everyone not to use the phones for the next hour.  Just over one hour later, we called backh  When the secretary picked up the phone, we screamed, as if someone had been electrocuted!  NOT good news.  Somehow I wasn’t kicked out, and even lived to play another prank on Mr. Friedman. Remember -- this was in the 1960s -- no mobile phones or "modern" technology...  At the banquet dinner before the end of the first session, I ran in to the dining hall holding a telephone handset in my hand, with the cord neatly tucked into my pocket.  Mr. Friedman was standing in front of everyone, giving a solemn goodbye speech.  Way too serious.  I had to lighten things up.  "Mr. Friedman, Mr. Friedman, there's a very important phone call for you!  He reached for the phone, not realizing it wasn't connected anywhere, and says "Hello, Hello?" At this point the whole camp is cracking up, except for Dovid Himber who thought this was my end. Soon The whole place was at a quiet stillness, everyone looking at Mr. Friedman. Mr. Friedman, looks at me, then around the whole room. Suddenly, for the very first time in the history of the camp he bursts into a bright and broad smile, crisis over! From that moment on, Mr. Friedman and I shared a beautiful relationship. I even got him to drive me to NY for the Chof-Av Farbrengen in which he joined me in saying L'Chaim to the Rebbe. To receive Rabbi Lipszyc's Story of the week via Whatsapp add the number 513-456-7595 to your phone contacts, and then send a text to with the message "Join".  Support Rabbi Lipszyc's work by Donating at https://chabadcrimeaorg.clhosting.org/templates/articlecco_cdo/aid/2511910/jewish/Crisis-Relief/lang/en or sending checks to: Chabad of Crimea World Friends, 1601 Union St, Brooklyn, NY 11213