One of the most coveted prizes as a child in camp was "a minute in canteen".
The canteen was a shop for supplemental nutrition - mostly nosh, but with occasional "healthy" options such as fries. With the nearest grocery store a 20-minute walk down the French-Canadian streets north of Montreal, and at the complete mercy of the camp chef's sometimes bland menu, this calorie-laden shack was a lifeline. The winning camper was awarded sixty precious seconds during which time he could run through the narrow aisles, collecting BBQ-flavored chips, raspberry-mango taffy, an expired can of tuna, four packs of his favorite chewing gum, and the list went on. During the canteen run, he hardly had time to appreciate the delicacies being accumulated. Now, he can sit back, and savor (literally and figuratively) the gathered treasures. This is the story of the High Holidays. For a glorious month we dash from the sweetness of Rosh Hashanah's honey-dipped-apple to Yom Kippur's clean slate opportunity, we climb the ladder into the protective shade of the Sukkah, and we dive into the dancing circles of Simchas Torah. In all the excitement, we don't necessarily have the time or the presence of mind to appreciate everything we are experiencing. It is now, when we get back to a more normally-paced life, that we must unpack the suitcases, discover the treasures we amassed, the souvenirs to help the energy of the holidays spill over and saturate our year ahead.
whatever treats caught his dreamy eyes. Pockets bulging, and hands filled with brightly labeled goodies, eclipsed only by his shopping-cart-sized smile, our hero would emerge from the canteen door, panting for breath. Heading to the nearest picnic table, he along with his many (new?) friends would take stock of the bounty.