It occurred to me this morning, as I fielded emails and phone calls from various KlezKamp staff members and worked on getting my own class materials in order, that getting ready for KlezKamp was a lot like preparing for Passover. We keep a kosher home, so there's always a lot of cleaning to do, and we host two seders, so I spend an entire week shopping and cooking. As in my preparations for KlezKamp, I wear two hats: I'm the cook, but I also lead the singing and have to help my wife Carol make decisions about the overall logistics for the household. And there always comes a moment, usually within 36 hours of that first sundown, when it feels as though it's never going to get done, that we'll start the seder and discover huge holes in our preparations.
Yet somehow, when we sit down and I look around the table at the faces of our family and friends, the candles lit and the flowers providing a brilliant flash of springtime to what is often a dreary winter day, I'm always ready. Peysakh always happens.
And so it will be on Sunday, as I stand at the Epes Center greeting old friends and welcoming new participants or running the staff meeting that afternoon. Despite how it feels today, I'll be ready. And KlezKamp will happen.