It was 1991 and I had been sent to Simi Valley by my rabbi. That sounds like some sort of punishment now, but at the time, it was really exciting. I was 20 and got to go to California for a whole month, which was very cool, as I had never been to the US before.
I went to participate in a Jewish summer program, called BCI. It took place at the Brandeis Bardin Institute in Simi Valley. Jewish young adults from all over the world came together for 26 days of lectures, discussions, and a multitude of activities like Israeli dancing, singing, the art of Jewish paper cutting (think doilies but with Jewish stars cut into them.) It was basically camp for adults. You had to be between the ages of 18 and 26 and there were about fifty or so of us, if I remember correctly.
The "pretty girls" and the "dancing girls"
There were mostly Americans there, and quite a few Californians, but also a few Brits, a couple of Israelis, maybe a frog or two, and some Canadians? I can't quite remember. It's easier to remember the clicks that quickly formed. I tended to float, but there was the "pretty girls" from Beverly Hills and the valley, the "dancing girls" who were less attractive but fantastic Israeli dancers, the nerds, the feminists and the anti-Americans.
The anti-Americans was definitely the most fun group to be a part of, as our main focus was to roll our eyes when the uneducated, spoiled, bacon-eating Americans started to bitch about how difficult it was to be Jewish in America. The Israelis REALLY didn't like that, and neither did us Europeans.
My room mate from Texas, Lisa Blech
I was the only Swedish Jew of course, and as I was rooming with three American girls, I quickly discovered that I was also the only girl without white triangles on my boobs. This, I learned quickly, wasn't a good thing. Having brown breasts equaled sexual promiscuity, and not just the fact that I was from a country where we don't have hang-ups about going topless in the sun.
Needless to say, it was a strange and confusing time for me, made fun and excellent by the presence of Mr. Jeremy Barnett. Jeremy was in my opinion (and it seemed the bulk of the girls) the handsomest of all the land at BCI. "He will be mine," I muttered to myself upon meeting him, and shortly thereafter we became an item, as much as you could at a Jewish summer camp for adults. Jeremy was from New Jersey, and wore a Rutgers sweatshirt, which seemed to illicit a lot of impressed looks and comments, although its importance was lost on me. As was the fact that he had worked on the "Uh, Huh!" Pepsi campaign, as I wasn't familiar with that either.
Still, he was tall, handsome, with a grown-up goatee and just the right amount of Jewish. He could sing, Israeli folk dance and was a fantastic kisser. He was kind, sweet and quite taken by me, all things that made my summer quite extraordinary. There was obviously a no co-habitation rule, but if I remember correctly, we did "co-habitate" in an abandoned bunk once or twice. I guess that proves I really was sexually promiscuous. Oh well.
After BCI, a few of us hung around LA for a couple of days, went to Universal Studios and some other touristy (super-exciting-to-me-then) places. Next, I headed to Winnipeg to visit Jackie, my kibbutz room mate, but managed to squeeze in a weekend in New York with Jeremy on my way back to Sweden. He had borrowed a friend's apartment and we had a really great weekend, although I don't really remember seeing much of New York. I do remember getting noodles in peanut sauce and being impressed at both the sheer genius of the dish, and the fact that we could get it delivered fairly late at night.
I don't like this next part. Which is funny because it's been 19 years, and you'd think it wouldn't really have a "charge" anymore, but I guess when you experience heart break, it stays with you. And is difficult to write about. Jeremy moved to LA and I came to visit the spring of 1992, as I had applied to the University of Judaism, and wanted to visit the school before I started in September. We had written letters back and forth, and when I came for the visit I stayed with Jeremy and his room mates in their apartment on Roxbury.
I was really excited to see him, but I guess the feeling wasn't mutual, because he gave me my own bedroom to sleep in, without saying or explaining anything. I remember spending the first night crying, and being upset that he hadn't told me about the girl he was dating before I arrived. I also remember sleeping with him anyways, (two strikes on the promiscuity issue) but we never "got back together," and our lives went their separate ways from there. I started school and quickly found another American boyfriend. Jeremy met a taller blonde to marry shortly thereafter.
It seems sort of embarrassing and juvenile to say this now, but I think Jeremy was a big part of me moving to the United States, so if there was a silver lining in the summer romance and subsequent heart break, that would be it. I didn't move here for him, or to be with him, but it did make the opportunity to go to college here a bit sweeter. And I'm still here, so it seems I owe him quite a bit.
In conclusion, I can report that Jeremy is alive and well today, as we reconnected last year on Facebook or LinkedIn, or one of those things. He is just as tall and handsome, and it turns out he had three beautiful children with the tall blonde, but is divorced and single now. And no, I'm not gloating or feel vindicated by his heart break. At least not for more than a fleeting second.
20 YEARS LATER AND YOU ARE STILL THE DELICIOUS TO BE WITH AND LOOK AT...XOXOXO DIANE
Posted by: diane merrick | 05/10/2011 at 02:58 PM