Little brother o' mine

He came home from camp, lil brother o' mine, was there for two months, more or less.

The songs he was singing, the chayus he radiated, made me wonder what exactly went on there. He loved it, had a great time. The niggunim and camp songs he is constantly singing are proof of that.

I started singing a snippet of a song. 'You can't sing that,' he said to me, quite indignantly for such a young boy. (He's 12.)

'Why not?', asked me, annoyed at having my song cut short.

'Cuz it's not Jewish'. He rolled his eyes at me, annoyed to have to state the obvious to ME, his older sister.

'Oh right. I forgot.' These things just don't sit right with him. It's wrong, I can't do that.

Today I asked him if he went to Shul. His response was, 'Of course I did.' Again, like, how could you even ask me such a question??

I smile, when I think about it. So young, so pure, so not touched by conflicts, problems, decisions. It doesn't effect him. He goes to school, listens to his Rabbis, sings Jewish songs, goes to Shul, and it never even crosses his mind to change any of that.

I think I used to be like that, once upon a time. It's quite possible, actually. So what happened? I guess I just grew up.

But lil brother of mine, I hope he goes the way I didn't. I hope he stays on the straight path, I hope he becomes a great Rabbi someday, or a chazzan, with his belowing voice. I hope he remains pure, and that the 'goyishe velt' won't touch him, and taint him.

I hope so many things for you, lil brother o' mine. Make me proud.