“Son of the ‘60s”
Reflections on 50 years
(for my 50th HS Reunion)
September 21, 2016: Campervan,
Missouri River, Nebraska City
Sue’s and my 31st Anniversary today, so a fitting day to look back. Only one I know longer than us is Rankin who’s nuptials a few of us attended in Chappaqua, NY when dinosaurs roamed. My stepson is now 50.
So back: Six years to graduate college – three of them. Parents had long since wished me well. Played/studied with VanNess, Rankin and Blake at Stanford one summer. But it was the 60’s, Man! Striking finals, burning draft cards, railing against the machine, sex and drugs. I mostly sat around with the last two.
Timothy Leary advised us to, "Turn on, tune in, drop out " as we fought against societial conformity (Generation Gap) and the Vietnam War suggested 'Flower Power' was more potent than the war machine. San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district was the wellspring of the 'counterculture' and London's Carnaby Street was the epicenter of the 'Swinging Sixties' fashion and music revolution. The Beatles sang 'Nowhere Man'. We convened in the mud at Woodstock. And don’t forget the most important invention of the 20th century, 'The Pill'.
With no further interest in formal education and with a new girlfriend, we set out to live, love and learn (Flower Children). Enough scratch to do the prerequisite six-month backpack in Europe. My lover and travelling companion had an M.A. in Art History from the Fogg and a house in Rome (Good Fortune). Ski instructing at Bromley in VT and Park City in Utah followed (Oh, for a purchase on Main St then). Skied with Chapell at Taos where he was instructing/patrolling. Then to L.A. to find a boat headed to the South Seas. Not soon enough. Hearing pops out the apartment window one afternoon, turned on the TV to find Patty Hearst, “Tania,” with her black beret, machine gun and new friends, the SLA, holding up the corner Bank of America four blocks away. Time to go (New Horizons).
So we flew to Hawaii but no sailboats going our way, only “Impeach Nixon” imprinted on an unfurled squaresail hanging in the harbor, 1974. On to Tahiti and found a 72-foot Alden staysail schooner owned and captained by 21-year-old Phineas Sprague from Prouts Neck, ME (Harvard ’71). On her way around the world, she was sailed by a crew of American hippies, all his friends (Peer Identity). She lay stern-to next to another gorgeous Alden schooner, Mayan, owned by David Crosby, which he would fly in to sail through Polynesia between music tours.
Three years later and across the Pacific I found myself on a 7-day solo backpack out of the Southern Alps of New Zealand (Vision Quest). I had been living off-the-land on Avarua Bay in the National Forest just north of Milford Sound hunting and fishing while crawfishing (lobstering) with a fisherman, his wife and 9-year old daughter. We had flown over the Alps, landed on a beach and walked to two small cabins (mine especially so) behind a gravelly shore to set traps and nets from an outboard work boat.
In later life I’d often speak of “commitment moves.” to my staff. Well, I learned their significance when told to remove a Conger Eel that had dropped from the open trap onto the boat’s work deck. Madder than hell, thick as my thigh, five foot shiny black and a vicious mouth. One grab, one chance! (Life Lesson)
So I was captivated on the way out of the bush and wondered how to create a career incorporating this lifestyle and the adventures to be had in vigorous outdoor living. Got to Wellington, jumped a container ship and endured a month of the filthiest work they had on board, (Education, My Son). Got off in Norfolk, VA. and boarded a train for CT and home. Going home was important for me to offer help to my mother who was now bedridden with MS (Prodigal Son). Danced around my father for three weeks - I still had a beard and long hair. Then he unexpectedly dropped dead at the foot of mother’s bed. At that time CPR was initiated with a ’ heart thump’ which I gave him and briefly brought him back but couldn’t keep him. Now it was Mom and Me (Life Changing Event).
But I had just met the most beautiful thing on two legs who worked at the local grocery store (Serendipity), while perverseness came from my previous relationship, my Roman girl, who had left me on James Michener’s, “Island of Love,” Bora Bora (Life’s Ironies). But this grocery store stunner, this Indian Princess with her head band, her choker, bra free and with her sassy way was married with two children. Serious MILF. So began a ceaseless time of ardent infatuation and much patience (Perseverance). I showed up one day (every day) at the supermarket’s central kiosk which was easy to find but intimidating to see, like a fort’s blockhouse four feet off the floor. I looked up (Courage). She was head down going about her accounting and took no mind of me til she looked up, noticed “Pampers” in my cart and asked if I had children. “No,” I answered unaware. The conversation was over (Dumb-as-a-Stick). She readily figured I was a creep with a family at home trying to make time (like so many others). After I realized the problem, how many days it was until I could explain the purchase being for my incontinent mother (Life’s Setbacks).
Months later, Sue and I found ourselves sitting on a double bed in a rented room in a boarding house in my hometown wondering what now (Confusion). During my time home I had led a local outing club, taught at a YMCA, learned rock climbing, caving, canoeing (kudos to Charlie Walbridge), orienteering.
I had travelled west to take a “Yellowstone Winter Expedition” backcountry x-country ski trip with NOLS (then promised myself I’d bring my own group back) and had worked for Outward Bound running a four week trans-Florida canoe trip, in the summer! from the Atlantic to the Gulf of Mexico with incarcerated youth. OB wanted you to go out and proselytize the world and I was ready (Inspiration).
So what to do but hang a shingle, buy insurance, a 15-passenger van, 8 canoes, a canoe trailer, get 12 warm bodies from the local YMCA and offer “Introduction to Whitewater Canoeing,” a day trip on the Housatonic River in NW CT. This, after 27 years, ended with 35 staff, 4 divisions: Corporate Teambuilding, School Programs, 1100 kids each summer on “Awesome Adventures,” "Dirt Camp", a mountain bike insttructional program, travel throughout the Americas, lively staff parties and much community good will (Success).
b
Sue and I sold The Mountain Workshop, Inc. in 2005 and bought “Surprise”, a 48-foot performance sailing catamaran designed by Chris White. A boat never in my wildest dreams… (Fulfillment). We lived aboard our sea chariot for 10 years. Sue wrote articles for Multihulls Magazine. We chartered her in New England and the Bahamas. We stopped to visit Matthews at his splendid home in Palm Beach, had Blake aboard (at that time the CEO of Home Depot) when we stopped to see his new digs on Sea Island, GA. Had Rankin and Rathbone on a weekend cruise in Long Island Sound when us boys blew out the spinnaker. The Admiral wasn’t happy with that. We once tied Donald McKay’s clipper ship, “Lightning’s,” maiden voyage speed record from Liverpool to NY with a record of our own from Nassau to NY. Average speed 10.8 knots (Wonder).
We finally docked Surprise at the Fish House Art Center in Stuart, FL. No intention to stop, but sailed in, never sailed out. Fell in love with a tin shack by the RR track, sad but true, and happily paid what annual RE tax on two CT properties used to amount to. Surprise sold last fall (Wonderful Memories) and now the ex-owners are free once again! Now we travel, Sue does ceramics, I deliver boats, we both write a little (see www.sueclarkphotos.com) and all is well. (Contentment)
To the Committee: Great idea this and enjoyed my recollections. Thank You.
Damndest thing is, it all seems so purpose-driven and self-aware, well considered and clever now. Ah, the convenience of failing memory!
But finally after 67 long years, I’ve found life’s four guiding principles: No boss. No tie. No underwear. And a fine woman. Or perhaps it’s as easy as our next wanna-be President’s succinct declaration to Esquire in 1991: All is well “as long as you’ve got a young and beautiful piece of ass.” (Enlightenment)
