He is one of the soft and gentle kind. Always has been, at least as I saw and see him. He came to camp as a little boy in the early fifties with his older brother and sisters. He had no problems joining in and participating fully in his group. At Shasta, he became a counselor of the youngest boy group and did an excellent job teaching and caring for them. He was the counselor of the difficult kid who cut the hole in the cabin so he could see the stars and moon.
One day he came to me and showed me a tree that was endangering his cabin and possibly his kids if it fell during a storm or just fell. We decided to cut it down, so I got the chain saw, checked the direction it needed to fall (no problem), and proceeded to cut it down. I destroyed his cabin. A failed woodsman was I. He, his kids, and I laughed a bundle and were grateful that the tree had not come down while they were in their cabin.
I remember he and his group took over a Saturday evening event. Every Saturday, one or two groups would take full responsibility for creating the parties for the entire camp. If I remember correctly, their theme was the Beatles and the Yellow Submarine. It was a party to remember.
He earned his Ph.D. in psychology and taught at Cal Berkley. We are close to this day. And he is close with other camp people from the fifties and sixties. He may not see this, but I do, and that is that he remains the soft and caring person he always was to me. When young and vulnerable (vulnerable, a condition we need to remain in for as long as possible), we show who we are easily to those we trust. He and I trust each other. Sy
An event happens—We benefit or do not—Be open to this.
