Summer, 1970, I had just finished 3rd grade and was finally old enough to be a camper at Lutheridge, where my two older sisters had already been spending a week each summer for a few years. I’d seen how much they loved it, how thrilled they’d be all year reviewing the photos they’d taken of their adventures, corresponding by mail with the friends they’d made. I was finally going to have a similar experience of my very own – new friends, the pictures to prove it, and a full address book for all the letters I’d be writing.
Having made sure my folks dropped me off early at Pioneer A, I told them goodbye, nabbed a top bunk in the cabin I was assigned, and started arranging my belongings, only to discover with horror that I’d left my Polaroid camera in the back of the station wagon, which my parents had already driven away. Then my cabinmates began arriving one by one. Who were these strange people? Was I really going to love them the way my sisters always loved theirs? Unimaginable. How quickly my plans were unraveling.
As the afternoon dragged on, my despair deepened. Early arrivers were sent to the softball field to play for the afternoon as later arrivers gradually checked in for the week. I didn’t feel like playing. Nothing was going as I’d imagined. Tears began to fall. Unbeknownst to me, my sisters peeked over from Pioneer B on the other side of the softball field, saw me crying, and sent their new counselor friend, Tony, to check on me. Suddenly a tall, skinny, friendly-faced guy appeared, scooped me up, sat on the big log bordering the edge of the field, and plopped me onto his lap – a surprising and diverting development! We sat there for quite a long time, I much less talkative (if at all) than he between my sniffles. I recall none of the one-way dialog but do remember a gradual relaxing, a great deal of interest and eye contact, and the calming feeling that I was safe and everything was going to be OK; I had a friend.
That friendship lasted 50 years, and I have the pictures, memories, and letters to prove it! My much-anticipated first week as a Lutheridge camper ended up producing just what I’d hoped for, and so much more, thanks to Tony. Some of the things Tony gave me over the years:
- comfort, counsel, empathy, laughter, through letters, phone calls, and visits
- help in choosing my first outdoor sleeping bag and backpack
- 9 weeks in the American West in the summer of 1980, my first exposure to that part of the country
- the realization that History actually is fascinating, relevant, and worthy of contemplation
- great memories of harmony and delight through music
- my love for playing bridge, still a favorite pastime
- merciless defeat in Gatch (who remembers that crazy game of attempting to catch your opponent’s finger as they poke at the circle you made with your hand?)
- answers to countless questions related to using Apple computers when they were new to me.
Tony had so many friends of so many ages. I’ve never known anyone else who could maintain meaningful relationships with such a wide range of people. He loved his friends in a gentle, serving way that inspired and encouraged growth and loyalty and compelled those who received it to love others in the same way, or at least to strive to. He was smart, talented, funny, opinionated, and fun to know for countless reasons, but ultimately it was his great, inclusive, expansive love that made such a tremendous impact on so many lives. That love lives on in us, in those we love, and reaches into the future through each life it touches.
Thank you, Tony, for the difference you’ve made and continue to make. Yours is indeed a life worth celebrating.