09/06/2026
Written by a member of the Borscht Belt Museum Advisory Board, Isabel Balotin:
A Catskill Gal Remembers Labor Day by Isabel Balotin
As Labor Day weekend approaches, I can’t help but drift back to those golden days of the 1950s and ’60s, when that long weekend was more than just a holiday — it was a turning point in the rhythm of life for my family, my friends, and the whole little town of Ellenville, New York, in the heart of the Borscht Belt
For us locals, it was the exhale after a summer lived at full tilt. The once-bustling streets — crowded with tourists in sun hats, campers and summer workers — began to quiet. Storefronts that had hummed with constant chatter could finally breathe again. Restaurants and movie theaters that were open until midnight, returned to their normal schedules.
My parents, owned a kosher butcher shop, worked long hours during those busy months, supplying the endless appetites of hotels, camps, and bungalow colonies. By the time Labor Day rolled around, they could shorten the long work days and start dreaming about their winter escape to Florida.
For my brother and me, the holiday marked the bittersweet pivot from our summer jobs and vacation fun to seeing our old friends and returning to a routine. School always started the very next morning — as if the summer were swept away overnight. And while I welcomed the return to my other life, saying goodbye to my summer friends always left a lot of sadness.
Catskills summers were filled with sunbathing, swimming, making new friends and boyfriends at our summer jobs and living life to its fullest in our teens. Those two months gave us a totally different kind of life experience. I feel lucky to have had these very different experiences. I did try to keep in touch with some city friends. But, in those days there were no emails or text messages — just the long wait until June to pick up where we’d left off.
For the Bungalow Bunnies, of which many of my city family were, the days just before Labor Day were a whirlwind in the bungalow colonies. Everyone bustled about, folding lawn chairs, packing away dishes, wrapping up linens and other items to be used the following summer. Those who wouldn’t return the next year loaded their station wagons to the brim — boxes and suitcases stacked so high you could hardly see out the back window. The long trip home down Route 17 was bumper-to-bumper for miles, but everyone carried a little piece of mountain air back with them, tucked into their memories. Groups of tearful people would gather and say their final goodbyes and exchange contact information to stay in touch. Everyone knew the city might still be sweltering, but they had their memories and their summer in the Catskills to hold them over until next year.
As renters left, bungalow owners shifted into another kind of work — hammering loose shutters, painting trim, draining the pool, boarding up windows, and buttoning up the “casino” and recreation halls to protect them against the coming winter months.
The year-round hotels stayed lively through the holiday, booking big-name headliners for their final summer hurrah. But when the lights went down on that last Labor Day show, even they turned to fixing, painting, and preparing for the quiet months. Our local friends who worked at the hotels or camps had to say their sad goodbyes to co-workers and friends who shared many good times and long workdays together. Some of our friends returned to the City to finish high school and continue college, having earned a decent amount of money to pay tuition or perhaps enough to buy a car. Counselors, waiters, bellhops, busboys, and clerks — who wanted to keep working would head to the few resorts opened year-round, hoping for a weekend shift to carry them through the winter. While other locals remained full time workers.
I imagine people from Maine, Cape Cod to the Berkshires, from the shores of Michigan to the sands of the Carolinas, know this same mixture of relief and melancholy.
In the Catskills, summer was neatly framed by two solemn, significant American holidays — opening on Memorial Day, in honor of those who gave their lives for our country, and closing on Labor Day, a celebration of the workers whose efforts keep our country running. Between those bookends stretched a season of laughter, summer songs, first loves, first kisses, bunk buddies, color wars, friendships, jukeboxes and mountain breezes — a season that lives on in my heart, no matter how many years have passed.
What a memory! What a country!
Update: The last weekend in July, I made my way to Ellenville for the Annual Borscht Belt Weekend. Driving down from Rochester, I passed through towns like Monticello, Fallsburg, and Woodbourne — once vibrant in the heyday of the Catskills, then quiet for so many decades. To my delight, they’re bustling again, with Orthodox Jewish families, many kosher supermarkets and shops lining the streets and people everywhere.
What really brought a smile to my face was seeing the old bungalow colonies alive once more. Children playing ball on the lawns, adults gathered in conversation, and station wagons vans and school buses filled the driveways — scenes straight out of another era, yet happening now.
Just a short two-hour drive from New York City and New Jersey, the Catskills still offer nature’s best: crisp air, warm sunshine, rolling green fields, and mountain views that take your breath away. Whether families are here just for the weekend or settling in for the summer, one thing is clear — the revival of the Catskills has truly begun.
Isabel currently serves on the Advisory Board of the Borscht Belt Museum in Ellenville, NY.
