Al's Frost Valley alumni blog: Pocohontas cabin 3, 1968 or '69

Friday, February 27, 2015

Pocohontas cabin 3, 1968 or '69

Jere Schwait Sirkis was in cabin 3 in Pokey in 1968 or 1969. Cindy Drucker is top row second from the left, and Laura Ettleman is top second from the right. Jere hself took the photo with her brownie camera. Its the only photo she has from back then, although perhaps she'll send us CIT and FCC photos from later.

Frost Valley

is a place where good things happen when people pay attention to each other. There’s endless beauty here - the high meadows, blankets of evergreens, and pristine brook trails – and you can meet nature in all its forms. But more than that, it’s a place where our ties to friends and family are strengthened. When a community of people came to the Catskills to build Frost Valley, they had in mind a place where you can sit next to someone you think you know, and then really get to know them. It also happens to be where the everyday light and shadow is enough to inspire artists; where American fly-fishing was born; and where today, a quarter million acres of green forests still remain “forever wild.” At Frost Valley, where we are does have an effect on how we treat each other. Here, a family can relearn what “family style” means as they share a meal together. The rose-gray river stones in the hearths and chimneys around camp reflect the colors of nearby Biscuit Creek and pull you into the surroundings. If you need more reasons why it’s so special here, we encourage you to explore citizen science activities during every season. But you don’t have to, because you might have more fun just learning silly camp songs. And by the end of your stay, when you your family and newly found friends are composting like pros together, everyone becomes richer, including next year’s butterfly garden.

...and if I could transport myself

not just back to this place, but to a certain moment in my personal history here, it would perhaps be:

end of lunch on any July day in 1968, and Dave King (our camp director) walks to the center of the dining hall, without microphone, and without introduction of any kind begins to lead one of the 25 or so camp songs we sang in those days. He is the maestro, waving one arm to the rhythm we are to follow and with the other arm, at turns, directing us to sing quietly or loudly or pointing toward some one camper who isn't singing or (rarely) is talking. And it's "Young Folks Old Folks" or "Zum Gali Gali" or "Deep and Wide" and I look down to the end of the table at my counselor and he's singing too, no hesitation, not too old for this, totally entranced and I myself turn my gaze back toward Dave....

Okay, I ache for that. Not being young again, not quite. More like being momentarily again part of such harmony.

Al's Frost Valley alumni blog

Friday, February 27, 2015

Pocohontas cabin 3, 1968 or '69

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