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Good guys, then, now |
| When I was a little boy of 7, 8 or 9, I felt
something remarkable and it was to be one of the most glorious
feelings I had ever experienced. My parents sent me to summer
camp to give my mother a breather from a hyperactive son. The camp, located near the village of Oconomowoc, Wis., fronted a gentle body of water called "Lac La Belle," so named by French explorer-trappers who were the first Europeans in the area. It means "beautiful lake," an apt name because it was just that, crystal clear and hemmed all around by the grandeur of a pine forest. Our day ended in the nightly ritual of the camp fire where we listened to stories, sang songs, and toasted marshmallows. As the fire dwindled we rose and sang the camp song just before the bugle sounded taps. We stood in a circle with our arms around the shoulders of those next to us. In the cool night with millions of stars overhead, with fireflies blinking, and the cadence of the lake's gentle swells rising and falling on the shore, there was paradise. And it reached its pinnacle as our voices resounded with the inspirational refrain: " where there's loyal spirit, fellowship, camaraderie we shall be faithful forever to you." It was the first time in my life I felt the wonder of being part of something beyond myself. I was connected with something. I was part of a universe where we were all bound together in a brotherhood of kindness and lofty ideals. As I grew older I often thought of those ingenuous early life days in camp and especially the words "loyal spirit, fellowship, camaraderie." I was never again to experience that sense of harmony and wholeness with everything and everyone. I wasn't estranged from the world, but that feeling where we were all together and all on the same side was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. It was the euphoria of innocence. I went into the service and had some wonderful shipmates and some who left much to be desired. I went to school and lived in a fraternity house with 100 guys where "brotherhood" was supposed to be everything. There were 10 "brothers" who I admired, 10 who I detested and 80 who I didn't even know were there. I have enjoyed the companionship of dear friends and have kept my distance from those with whom I have felt no compatibility. But it was only during the summers at camp where everyone was bound together in "loyal spirit, fellowship, camaraderie." Gil Lowry is both my friend and my accountant and he is waging a valiant battle with cancer. If grit and courage alone can carry the day, Gil will survive this pernicious onslaught. He has already endured surgery which has disfigured his face and obstructed his speech. He is undergoing both radiation and chemo; he has lost his hair and considerable weight, and most often intakes his food with a straw. He is weary and weak from treatments, but he continues to work. If ever anyone personified Rudyard Kipling's words, "If you can force your heart, nerve, and sinew to serve their turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there's nothing in you except the will which says, 'Hold on,'" it is Gil. I inquired a few days ago how he manages to get to Oxnard for daily radiation treatments and he related a story that touched me deeply. I asked him if I could write about it. He gave me his blessings. Gil has been a longtime member and former president of the Ojai Rotary Club. Though his wife, Connie, drives him to chemo therapy each day, he needed help to make the daily radiation treatments. Larry Wilde, the current club president, organized a group of eight Rotary volunteers, himself included, who each drive Gil on a different day to and from the clinic in Oxnard. On the way back they stop at Baskin-Robbins for a chocolate milk shake, which Gil says gives him a needed 800-calorie intake. When I contemplate what these friends are doing for Gil, I feel again, and for the first time since I stood with my camp pals long ago, the meaning of the words, " where there's loyal spirit, fellowship, camaraderie. We shall be faithful forever to you." Friends? Without them our world would be bleak. They are foremost among our blessings. |