It is hard to imagine a tragedy worse than having a sister shot dead beside you. But, what about being in the room of the most fatal hotel bombing in six months or having to bury six of your closest friends? What about having your mother die in your arms? These are the stories of four of my campers at a sleep-away camp this summer. Each of the boys is a 14 year-old Israeli, and each has experienced terrorism on a profound and deeply personal level. In a meeting with the camp director, I was told that these Israelis had been sent over by the Lauder Foundation, a foundation dedicated to helpng children who have been victims of terrorism in the Middle East. From the meeting it also became very clear that Noam, Noam, Ami, and Tzvi would be both socially and psychologically different from all of the other boys. After all, in the past 12 months they had experienced more physical and psychological trauma than most receive in a lifetime.

As busloads of kids began to arrive at camp, I was nervous, boiling with anticipation and not knowing what to expect when meeting these four boys. Would the effects of the terror be hidden, or openly visible? Would they be unruly and angry, or quiet and receded? Would they be happy about what would be, or devastated by what was?

After a month as their counselor, I can only say that these boys answered all of my questions with valiant, resilient, sensitive, noble and mature flying colors. I have met few others in my life who have affected me in such a deeply positive way.

The first thing that became evident about the boys was that they in no way wanted any pity or double standards applied to them. As such, they requested that I not even tell the others in the bunk of their stories. Second was the fact that these boys, at the age of 14, may have had a more established and accurate perspective on life than I have at 20 years of age. The little issues that other campers obsessed over such as clothing or petty arguments were not present in the minds or behavior of these kids. Of course, they were still 14 year-olds who measured popularity primarily by looks and basketball skills, but when it came down to it, these boys were able to sift the significant from the silly more maturely than the all the others.

Separated from the day-to-day shuffle from activity to activity in camp however, were some poignant moments with these boys that will stay frozen in my mind and in my heart forever.
One such moment came on the first Friday night in camp when one of the boys staggered up to me during the dancing at the traditionally festive meal. Pointing to his mouth, indicating that he had lost his voice, I went arm over shoulder with him outside to a baseball field nearby. Some of the things he said to me in those 45 minutes make me shudder and tear with emotion as I type these very words. Noam began by telling me in a whisper that some of his new friends at camp had asked him to talk about his tragic story. I then realized that some psychosomatic reaction had been triggered by painful memories of recent events. Noam went on to talk about feeling guilty for being tucked away in the hills of Pennsylvania at camp while his family resided in their small town plagued by terror. His words rang with a sensitivity and maturity that are not found in most people twice his age.

But the boys' amazing qualities stretched far beyond their resilience. They were also proactively involved in camp and were "cool" leaders of the other kids. On '70s night, as boys were leaving the bunk, one of the Israelis convinced at least five other kids to dress the part with him. As he lent some of his new American friends the popular brand of Israeli hair gel, I mused at the fact that it was one of my Israelis who was rambunctiously and excitedly telling the American kids about John Travolta in "Grease."

Sitting at home a day after camp ended, I realize that these four kids are in my mind great symbols of hope. They want to live happily and well despite their pasts and not live with spite because of them. As children always symbolize the future, these four Israelis showed a beautiful one. They prophesized through their actions a future where the laughs and fun times they had in camp could be extended back home and to their own kids. This summer, I had the privilege of meeting four walking and talking proofs that the terror in the Middle East must end, and that when it does, a bright new future is waiting to emerge.

-- Yoni Goodman '05 submits a column to the Justice