Yale62.org

Class Secretary Jim White reports:  It’s with special delight I report Bill Reilly has agreed to chair our 50th reunion gift committee. 50th reunion Chair Bob Oliver and I spoke with Bill, Bob sent him a serious amount of information, and – despite his way too busy work schedule – Bill agreed to do it. What a coup for Y62! This speaks volumes for Bill’s affection for Yale and of course for our class.  He will do a terrific job, of that Bob and I have zero doubt.

Next 50th step: forming the full gift committee. I have two other important items to report. First, the next Y62 Class Council meeting will be next May 1, at the Yale Club of New York City. Second, Bo Rodgers and Kirk MacDonald are working on plans for our next class mini-reunion, to be held in NYC the weekend of October 15-17, 2010. This mini-reunion will be a celebration of our 70th birthdays and as such is a “companion” to the Y62 60th birthday mini-reunion held in New York 10 years ago. One event for this weekend already on the drawing board is Betsy Rodgers’ (Bo’s wife) walking tour of beautiful and historic Brooklyn Heights.   Stay in close touch with this website, Yale’s best thanks to Mike Kane’s efforts, for further news about all these events.

Jim’s email: jameskwhite1221@aol.com

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All have heard our pleas for missing email addresses so that this web site can reach more classmates.  And we do want those addresses so keep ‘em coming. But what about the guys who are logged in  but still don’t read  www.Yale62.org ?  Yes, they exist.   I know that because  good friends  of mine  have confessed to not having read  it even though I told them they were featured!  Thank goodness for the many satisfied readers, but it still gives pause. It makes me realize there are a lot of claims on our reading time, and attention spans are not what they once were either.   So I write this column with due humility.  I have to ask myself, even for those loyal website readers,  how fascinating do I have to be to keep them scrolling on  after they have worked their way through the AYA report, the Secretary’s bulletin, THIS JUST IN,  the 50th Reunion update, our feature articles etc., etc. – maybe future technology will allow us to imbed a voice version of the whole site that you can download to an iPod and listen  as you head off to sleep.

One area I am going to try to avoid hereafter is commentary on the heavy issues of the day.  After all, who cares what I think about Afghanistan? Or health care?  Etc., etc.  I do know more about the US health care problem than the average person (and more than the average doctor, I might add), and I have strong views, but who has time to read me on this when there is so much else out there already, and from real experts?   But can’t resist a  couple of highlights for color:  How about the enraged tea party lady who shouted “Keep Government out of my Medicare!”  Or the cardiologist treating my mother-in-law who told her, fully seriously, that under Obama-care Medicare was going to drop cardiology services.  Footnote: Florida attracts some of the nation’s worst and most unethical doctors.

I got to thinking on this topic  when I  got a Christmas letter from a (pre-Yale) friend  that went on and on about his only son’s academic achievements, and then concluded with a lengthy discourse on current events  (i.e., his take on state of the union).  My friend is a  bright Harvard grad but with no particular credentials to opine on these issues.   So is it just me, or do we all have very limited appetite for amateur Limbaughs, Maddows and O’Reillys?

And yet, there have to be lots of people eager to hear ignorance and stupidity because what else is afternoon talk radio?

In sum, my plan is to stick to human interest in this column.

And let me start by reporting that my approaching 70th birthday has been thrust into the background by my oldest daughter’s decision to get married  two days after that date.  It should be a wonderful event, much grander than my birthday would have been.  She has been busy planning for months now, a drama that is familiar to many of you, but new to me, late to marriage (38) and fatherhood (40).  Fortunately or not, my input is not in great demand, so except for enjoying the festivities and refreshments. I hope to relax and enjoy it. And her fiance‚ is a great guy who went to Brown undergrad and Yale MBA, so the Harvard flavor in the family from my wife’s side (father, brother) is being watered down further.

Wife Nancy and I last summer journeyed even farther Downeast from our rental cottage near Bar Harbor to the home of Roger and Judy Clapp in Addison, Maine.  I should say “estate” , not “home”, because we are talking here about a compound of three large and relatively new buildings, set on a bluff with spectacular views westward over salt water, and reached by a mile-long dirt driveway, all on his property that doesn’t even start until you  are about 10 miles from US Route 1. And yes, Roger is the bearded lobsterman pictured in our last web posting (no one has guessed this).  The Clapps treated us to wonderful hospitality, including a picnic on his lobster boat, and let me go off  alone  for a joyride in the little whaler outboard rig.  Next day while Roger and I hauled lobster traps, Judy took Nancy  shopping where she bought a 5-lb box of Maine blueberries that lasted us through about 4 pies back home in Newton.

At my urging Roger has sent in this New Year’s report and I am shamelessly bulking up my column by quoting it here, instead of in This Just In:

“Classmates have asked why we moved to the Downeast coast of Maine, 50 miles east of Ellsworth and 50 miles from Campobello, Canada. My answer is that we wanted a big, new adventure. We’d lived on a farm in northwest New Jersey for the previous 25 years and when I retired from practicing law, we chose to make our home on the rocky, ruggedly beautiful coast of Maine, in an area new to us where we hardly knew anyone, an area not frequented by tourists. I’m having fun hauling five lobster traps in the summer and giving back all year round in land trust, charitable and community activities (18, but who’s counting). We are enjoying the challenge of sinking our roots into a culture unlike any we’d ever lived in before.”

Roger went on to report that later in ‘09 he and Judy traveled down coast to Boston, where they met up with  met up with Chris Cory and Helen Rattray,  and all toured the Tom Luckey climbing structure at the Boston Childrens’ Museum.  This was packed with happy kids, a nice postscript to the drama about constructing this contraption that many of you saw in the Sundance movie about Tom that aired in October.

And now to press, and to rest up for another edition.

Best to all,

Mike Kane

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By Chris Lydon
Boston, MA
January 27, 2010

My reading/interviewing/podcasting year ends on the gorgeously swinging, dissonant, modernist note of Robin Kelley’s “Thelonious Monk: The Life and Times of an American Original.”  Kelley lovingly moves the complex Monk story from the ragged edge to the creative center of 20th Century American music.  And it offsets Monk’s many eccentricities and trials with the man’s private kindnesses and his belief, unshakable through thick and thin, in his own voice.  Monk emerges as a true Emersonian at the keyboard.  “To believe your own sound,” (paraphrasing “Self-Reliance”) “… that is genius.”  There may be another jazz biography as thickly detailed, as audibly lyrical, as passionate, as thrilling as this one, but I can’t bring it to mind. See: Robin Kelley’s Transcendental Thelonious Monk.

2009, all told, felt like a recovery year.

Joseph O’Neill’s “Netherland” felt like the book of the age, and may well have been my book to remember for 2009.   A post-911 tale of the cricket leagues that thrive in third-world New York City, it’s a parable of how we confront “otherness” in the world, in our midst; and perfectly fitted for the Obama inauguration and, it turned out, for the presidential night table.  See:  Joseph O’Neill’s Netherland: The Novel of the Age.

Another surprising novel, Paul Harding’s “Tinkers,” an offbeat New England peddler’s family saga in a transcendentalist spirit, made it miraculously from the quirky brilliant Bellevue Literary Press to Amazon’s Top 10 list of fiction for 2009.  See:  Paul Harding’s Magical ‘Tinkers’.

Nicholson Baker, in “The Anthologist,” makes the huge loss of John Updike a bit less bitter.  Another adoptive New Englander and ex-urbanite, Baker is a one-off stylist, profoundly though nimbly erudite in poetry, history and music, and hilarious as well.  In his fiction and his New Yorker fact pieces, Nick Baker seems to have become our Great Noticer.  See: Whose Words These Are (16): Nick Baker’s Chowder.

Favorites  in non-fiction were two early warnings about the booby-trapped obstacle course President Obama can’t finesse:

Jackson Lears’ “Rebirth of a Nation,” is a glum reflection on the revivalist, bully-boy, anti-intellectual stream in American culture and psychology that’s been flowing strong since the US Civil war, embodied by Teddy Roosevelt on his bad days and by G.W. Bush every day.  See: Jackson Lears: on Obama’s Sorrows of Empire.

Chris Hedges’ “Empire of Illusion” is a sort of draft death certificate for an American economy, culture, foreign policy and mainstream media that refuse absolutely to reflect on, much less correct, their self-destructive trajectory.  See: Chris Hedges: Requiem for the Reading Republic.

George Scialabba’s essay collection, “What Are Intellectuals Good For?” is outwardly a lament for the civic culture and the late great public intellectuals.  But it more truly a modern model of wondrously civilized dedication to the ecstatic discipline of ideas.  See: George Scialabba: the untethered, untenured mind.

My biggest investment in a giant writer this year was in the Turkish Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk: in his new “Museum of Innocence;” his Nobel-nailer, “Snow;” his masterpiece, “My Name is Red;” his memoir “Istanbul;” and his essays, “Other Colors.”  Pamuk is the Proust of melancholy Istanbul.  He’s still more absorbing as a sort of Dostoevsky of today’s moral tensions between West and East, with rather more cheer, less spleen than Dostoevsky brought to the subject when the critical difference seemed to be Roman vs. Orthodox Christianity.  Pamuk is, finally, a marvelous exponent of novels as a way of knowing, a way of life. See: Orhan Pamuk and his Museum: This is your brain on novels…...

To all you fellow travelers — courage!  thanks!  love!

Chris Lydon

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By Bob Oliver,
Reunion Chairman

We are beginning preliminary planning for our 50^th Reunion. This will be held either the last weekend in May or the first weekend in June 2012. The exact weekend will be selected by AYA in early 2011.

As chairman my first goal is to solicit ideas and suggestions from interested classmates. I want to arrange activities our class will most enjoy at the reunion. Next I want to assemble volunteers to chair committees or assist on activities such as the Reunion Book, arranging lectures and class panels, entertainment, class art and publishing exhibits, and other reunion activities we want to offer.

We also need to improve and broaden the availability of the class email address list to facilitate communications.  I want to coordinate and encourage this effort begun by Class Secretary Jim White and Mike Kane across the country.

I will be sending out a preliminary mailing this winter to solicit ideas and volunteers.  I have already received some comments from the prior posting on the class website.

Please email me your suggestions and whether you can volunteer to assist.  (oliver@moglaw.com) Or call me: office 203-624-5111 or home: 203-467-8255.

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By Bill Doying
Alexandria, VA
January 27, 2010

“. . . the oceans of twaddle and humbug which constitute the main response of the Anglo-Saxon peoples to any form of artistic expression.”  Michael Innes (John Innes Mackintosh Stewart), One Man Show p.11 (Avon ed. 1959)

I’ve introduced this epigram not only because it captures – in delightful Scottish tones – my own jaundiced view of most published art criticism, but to warn the reader what to fear from my own writing on the subject:  Intellectual rigor may be out of reach – perhaps even that sort of intuitive validity that makes one nod in recognition.  But better twaddle than humbug, in my view.

One more introductory item to get out of the way:  The art world, which we watercolorists see as run by oil painters for their own aggrandizement, tends to use “painting” and “painter” to exclude anything other than oils and (what I’ve now decided to call) oilers.  My title for this piece is a deliberate extended digit in the face of that mediumist (another new word!) usage.  (If the “?” at the end of my title seems to belie the smugness these last sentences suggest, I respond that my self-esteem as a painter is in fact very measured.)

Those few members of ‘62 (so far as I can tell, a couple of old roommates) who read my 2006 submission to the website, called “Watercolors and the Recovering Lawyer” will find this a sequel of sorts.  It includes more recent paintings and brief notes on their origins, a few more opinions about the art world, and some institutional stuff relating to the Art League here in Alexandria, Virginia, and my involvement on its Board.  I can only hope some will find this interesting – fortunately, it won’t cost you much to find out (though time itself is becoming more precious, come to think of it!).

As I said three years ago, I didn’t take up watercolor until after my 2002 retirement.  I began with drawing and portrait classes, and I’ve been enrolled with one or another member of our watercolor faculty each quarter since then.  As a generalization, these teachers have been trying for the last several years to loosen my painting up a little.  My natural tendency is toward something a little downwind from strict realism, but still probably too closely tied to it.

As an aside, it seems implicit in the evaluation of art by those who spend some time with it that work is judged largely against what the artist seems to have intended, rather than against some universal model.  Hence, the viewer’s observation “my first-grade kid could do better than that” may not sting the artist quite as badly as it ought to:  he/she may sniff that it is meant as a naïve or ironic piece.  We’ve all seen the sort of thing that Picasso doodled on a piece of scratch paper or ceramic, now cosseted by some collector.  Truly it is sometimes said:  “Art is what you can get away with.”  More precisely, I think, it is what you can persuade some critic to support by firing up his/her confabulation machine.  In this regard, the more lacking the work is in identifiable content the more scope is left for critics to inflate it with their own breath, along with their reputation for insight.  I can think of a number of wonderful illustrations of this principle from the public press hereabouts, even in recent weeks, but will omit citation to protect the guilty.

( I’ll have to think about how my skepticism relates to an online video I saw a while back of an elephant wielding a paintbrush with its trunk, and producing, without a false stroke, a rather impressive likeness of . . . an elephant.  I forwarded it to one of my teachers with the thought that it was “disturbing on so many different levels!”)

In any case – I hope you enjoy digression as much as I do, unlikely as that seems – the painting below is probably my loosest effort to date, which is to say not very.  It shows another angle of a Charleston scene I included in the 2006 piece, at 27 State Street just below Queen (or, as the Charleston saying goes, “slightly north of Broad”).  (Coincidentally, it just won an honorable mention in a show last weekend, after a series of show rejections!)

It’s a little “loose” in the sense that I started it by stroking in the frontal colors of the houses ranging south on State, and then confining them within their details.  But as the painting went on I got fussy with such details as the gate and the porch railing of number 27 (a small B&B, incidentally), so I wasn’t ready to declare this a personal breakthrough.  And even if I had I’d admit to backsliding.  For example, “Chartres at Dusk”:

There’s a lot I like about this painting:  the play of artificial and natural light, the cloud treatment, the winter tracery of trees (reminding me of Hemingway’s winter image of Paris in A Moveable Feast:  “The trees were sculpture without their leaves, when you were reconciled to them . . .”).  But loose and free it isn’t.

Oh well.  Of course, the trick isn’t just to paint loosely.  You could stand back and fling paint at the paper like a bush-league Jackson Pollock – put aside whether  Pollock himself merited the praise he’s received; those who love him are entitled to – but my own goal is to paint so that simple strokes evoke complex realities for the viewer.

The next painting illustrates my point in a small way.  I’m talking about the treatment of the foreground waves, which might be called reductive, or summary. (I might have called it “impressionistic,” but that term carries some pretty heavy baggage!).  That is, I tried to convey the feeling of a modest sea state (about 15 knots worth, blowing over a modest fetch).  But I certainly haven’t tried to capture the enormous number of small and large facets and accompanying value and color changes that the original photograph depicts.  By comparison, though, I spent a lot of time capturing more literally the spray of the boat’s impact on a wave.  Are the two in the right balance?  I don’t know:  In general, though, I won’t attempt to capture every part of a painting with the same degree of detail and precision.  The painting tradition in which I’ve been schooled chooses a focus for the eye and concentrates detail there.  As one of my teachers is wont to ask, “What’s the painting’s name?”  While I’m talking about this painting, incidentally, I might as well admit that the clouds, the helmsman’s posture, and the backstay-tensioning tackle all seem a little unsatisfactory to me.

I should probably have said this up front, before I started taking shots at art critics: What I’m striving for as a painter is just competence – and maybe a reputation for competence among people I paint with.  If I can ever achieve this over a range of techniques and subjects, I’ll be free to take on whatever scene or concept interests me, and perhaps take some pride and give some pleasure.  I have absolutely no thought – or hope! – of artistic fame or fortune – no interest in pursuing the novelty that seems the threshold requirement, even if I had a notable talent – so my doubts about the “serious” art world and its received critics really don’t stem from a sense of neglect.  Rather – is this my latent antitrust lawyer speaking? – I’m appalled by what seems its inefficiency as a market.

Divide art consumers into two groups, which really represent two extremes.  The first group buy art because they want to be able to look at it for a long time.  They “know what [they] like,” or simply know what colors will look good with the living room walls and the new sofa.  (In all honesty, we bought years ago an 1850-ish oban triptych of woodblock prints from “The Tale of Genji” largely because of a color match – but it’s a satisfying image, too!)  Such buyers’ task may seem simple, but their problem is one of search costs.  There’s almost certainly something else out there that would be a far happier choice, but it’s just too hard to find!  A lot of art is viewable online these days, to be sure, but even there it’s not searchable in any way that matches our inner criteria:  a certain size, a certain subject matter, certain colors, a certain skill level and price, a certain “look.”  (Candidly, our Art League School is constantly doing its best to make the problem worse:  at any given time we have some 5,000 art students enrolled.)  The consumer is largely left to cultivate a chance meeting with the painting of his or her dreams by dropping in on local shows and shops.

The second group, at its defining extreme, is comprised of those who seek art as a store of value, a social signifier, or both.  This group will often sublet its search problem, and its taste, to critics or dealers – themselves socially signified – but as a consequence are at the mercy of ever-evolving fashions in both artists and critics/dealers.  One hopes they will like their acquisitions enough to have that pleasure to fall back on if the critical tide ebbs.  See the early work of our Yale antecedent Tom Wolfe as it deals with the pursuit of art fads.

Well, opinions are what I have in lieu of expertise, so enough about the greater art world:    back to my own problems.  One of my most consistent problems is choosing a subject matter and treatment.  By the latter, I mean an aggregate of composition, color palette, range of light and dark values, level and concentration of detail, overall size, and so on.  In general, I’m repeatedly trying to decide if I can make a painting of these elements that will give people a reason to look at it – if I can make something interesting.  (Too often, the answer turns out to be, “not especially,” but I’ve gone ahead anyway!)

Sometimes I’ve settled for a subject that promises to have at least a local interest.  For example, these two scenes from Apalachicola, Florida, which has a fairly active local art market.  In the first, I took some liberties with the setting.  The boat actually sits in rank grass, and the architecture is less Hispanic; these departures evolved without any particular rationale as the painting progressed (or regressed!).

The second is more literal; both are familiar local scenes.  (Their actual appeal to anyone down there other than my critically generous brother-in-law has not been tested to date.  I’ll have to try to sneak them into his photo gallery.)  Incidentally, no one I’ve talked to seems to know where the vessel Venezellos came from, though there is a local family of Venezuelan restaurateurs.  As to Dolores’s Sweet Shoppe, she makes a good tuna salad sandwich, and a seductive carrot-cake cupcake.  The reference photo was taken around Christmas, which explains the strings of lights around the windows.

Probably more reliable than locale is genre appeal, and for better or worse I’ve fallen into the habit of maritime art, both cause and effect of my membership in the American Society of Marine Artists.  I could very easily be its least skilled member, and I am not being modest, but I enjoy the company of my betters!  The Society’s 14^th National Exhibition has just completed a year-and-a-half tour of five museums in as many states; many of the members are serious professionals.  (If you’re interested, see www.americansocietyofmarineartists.com.)  I took an unsuccessful shot at the show, with the painting below, which later was admitted to a statewide juried show of the Virginia Watercolor Society:

I call it “Anchored Out Aboard Panther off Hawksbill Cay,” or whatever part of that the entry form has room for.  It was the last night of a cruise of the Exumas.  We were laying out what was left in the fridge on the cockpit table, and I noticed the sun shining through the single-layer part of the ensign on the stern.  I liked the richness of the color and value contrasts, and the reflections off the water, the rubber dinghy, and the man-overboard kit on the stern pulpit.  Honestly, it looks better as a digital image than as a paper painting, but I still like it best of what I’ve done.  Of course at some point you may like a painting too much, and feel let down if someone wants to buy – though my own risk of inadvertent sales has not become too worrisome yet.

One that did surprise me by selling was the only marsh scene I’ve done so far.  This may sound too specialized to be a one-word category, but in fact it’s a major genre in the Low Country around Charleston and Savannah, and pretty prevalent in our own Chesapeake region too.  It’s saved from over-repetitiveness – as a genre – by the range of moods and lights and seasons that it offers, as well as the range of ways artists may find to portray them.

What was interesting to me in terms of technique, on this painting, was my first (successful) use of Aquapasto, which is just a thickener for the paint that allows you to lay down a lighter color, apply a thickened darker color on top of it, then scrape lines of various widths and shapes in the dark color that let the lighter show through, here in order to get a better marsh grass effect.  This addresses the problem of so-called transparent watercolor that paint must generally be applied dark on top of light, else the dark shows through the light.  You can paint dark background around light blades of grass, but that gets pretty tedious, and the blades may not look very bladey.  Aquapasto allows more spontaneity, and if you don’t like the first result stays wet long enough to spread it back and start over.  Reminds me a little of the fun of fingerpainting and – I hate to say it – even suggests that oil painting could have its pleasures.

I still do a few miniatures each year – 3 inches by 4 or so – and the marine influence has crept in there, too.  Here is one of an old sailing yacht that seems to be kept as a museum piece in the Cutts & Case boat shed in Oxford, Maryland.  To look at it, you’d say it’s undergoing a refit, but over a couple of years I have seen no progress.  In a way, it’s more beautiful with some of its bones revealed.  (You’ll note that this painting shows a little more roughness than some of the others – a consequence of blowing up a tiny painting to the same size as the 16 by 20s.)

My two most recent paintings are both maritime, and both had their origin in the settings of ASMA annual meetings.  The scalloper Sancor was in New Bedford harbor, tied up alongside, when a group of us from this year’s meeting took a tour on the launch Acushnet.  I “moved” it out to sea, placing it in a light fogbank that I photographed from the Martha’s Vineyard Fast Ferry two days later.  I wanted to capture a vaguely ominous mood that suggests the risks these seamen take for the sake of their living.  (If you doubt these risks, I’ll refer you to the list of lost sailors posted in the Seamen’s Bethel up the hill from the harbor.)  Normal composition would suggest some secondary focus in the lower right of the image, probably a sea buoy, but I wanted the boat to be headed into a void, without the comfort of such aids to navigation.  In the back of my mind was an image from “The Perfect Storm,” of the Andrea Gail sailing into still-tranquil waters.

The general appearance of the Sancor is fairly typical of the fleet:  the aft quarter or so of its topsides, and its working gear, are reduced to rust by the wear and tear of the fishery.

The last painting is actually based on an earlier ASMA-related trip – on the Cape May – Lewes Ferry.  Several sister ships ply this route, but I’ve shown the New Jersey, or rather its pilot house.  The original intent of the painting was just to do a study from a photograph with strong shadows, superimposing that pattern over some random splashes of wet-in-wet color (color applied into a wet background, which gives it soft edges).  As it developed, I decided to include more hard-edged detail, and gradually found the painting assuming a vaguely Hopperish cast:

I promised something more about our Art League, so I’ll make it a (non-profit) commercial.  The League, which usually consists of about a thousand members in Northern Virginia, the District, and nearby Maryland, had its origins in the ‘60s, and has come to comprise a gallery with monthly juried shows, a school as already alluded to (with over a hundred faculty and nearly two hundred offerings), a supply store, and outreach programs for at-risk children.  We on the Board have had our scares in the economy of the last two years, and are still imperiled by the lapsing of government grant programs, but are surviving rather better than could be expected.  To anyone within its reach, I highly commend it.  At least come by the Torpedo Factory on the Alexandria waterfront and see our current show!

Bill’s email: cwdoying@aol.com

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By Dave and Cindy Hummel
Billings MT
Oct/Nov 2009
published on our website January 27, 2010

Monday, Oct. 26

We flew from Billings to Salt Lake City to Atlanta to Paris, arriving about 7:00 Tuesday morning.

Tuesday, Oct. 27

Arriving early in Paris there were few customers in the international lounge where we spent the next 6 hours. Dave found two members of our Bushtracks group, who came back to the table where we had settled and chatted until it was time to board the flight to Douala, Cameroon, where we arrived at 8:30 PM.  On the plane were the other 7 members of our group: all together three men and six women.  For sure this is a well-traveled group.  At the airport in Douala we gathered our three bags, made our way through the congestion at a very narrow exit outside, where we were approached by numerous men hoping to sell us services, mostly a taxi ride into Douala.

One man was especially helpful, had a cell phone, asked who was supposed to meet us, called that person, found out what was happening, then asked for $10. We paid him $5.  This is kind of a typical operation procedure: offer help and then request a payment!  While we were waiting, the other 7 in our group hadn’t appeared and it turns out were waiting back in the baggage area because one suitcase hadn’t arrived.  Eventually a representative from the travel company turned up, introduced himself, gathered the group and headed us out to the van.  In general we weren’t too impressed with the arrival procedure, as we have always been met by a local representative, escorted through the last check point and taken directly to a vehicle.  But by 10:30 PM we were in the hotel and headed to our rooms.

This hotel, the Akwa Palace, supposedly has four stars, but we voted it one, based on our room. At least the air conditioning was efficient and reliable with free WiFi in the rooms, even though it didn’t work.  In the bathroom there was only one set of towels, everything was clean.  It took a while to get the extra towels and more toilet paper… first things first!!

Wednesday, Oct. 28

This morning we were up by 7:00 for a leisurely breakfast and to be ready when our guide arrived at 9:00.  He was a friendly young local named Chemba.  We were guided by him to a nice, four-wheel-drive black vehicle, driven by George.  For the whole day we drove through Douala, only getting out three times. Sitting in the back seat, I tried taking pictures through the side window, then closed it to keep the AC in.  Then I continued by shooting through the windshield.  All together I produced about 200 pictures, which show the busy population, the various services provided and the terrible traffic and horrible streets.  In general the people were pretty friendly.  For sure it was great having Chemba along.  In my behalf he asked if I could take pictures of people, helped me bargain for “treasures”.

In the afternoon we stopped at an “art market”, where it was possible to buy wooden masks, clothing, jewelry, dolls, basically items interesting to tourists.  When I saw some dolls dressed in the colorful fabric so commonly worn by African women, I decided to buy one, but wanted mine to look authentic.  Chemba looked at the offerings and said, “They are missing something… a baby on their back”.  So the proprietor quickly went on a search and came back with several from which I chose my favorite.  After that I bought 10 cards onto which had been pasted small oil paintings depicting life in a village.  The artist was happy to pose for a picture and I was very pleased to have found a small, lightweight, authentic “treasure” to remember my visit to Douala.  Dave bought a wooden Careroonian wedding mask.

Before returning to the hotel I repeated my request to Chemba to take me to a store that sells the absolutely beautiful fabric that local women use for their clothing.  Once inside I was “blown away” by the huge choice, the quality, color and ethnic designs.  The price was right, too, about $10 US for the standard cut of 6 yds/meters.  Unfortunately my request to take a picture was denied, but I did select three different patterns, which I loved even more when I opened them up later at the hotel.

From Wikipedia I wrote down these main facts about Cameroon.  It is located in central western Africa on the Atlantic Ocean just north of the equator. The country is called “Africa in miniature” for its geological and cultural diversity, is about the size of California or Germany. Natural features include beaches, deserts, mountains, rainforests, and savannas. The highest point is Mount Cameroon which we could see from the hotel in Douala. Cameroon is home to over 200 different ethnic and linguistic groups. The country is well known for its successful national football team which qualified for the soccer world cup in South Africa in 2010. English and French are the official languages. Portuguese explorers reached the coast in the 15th century and named the area Rio dos Camarões (”River of Prawns”), the name from which Cameroon derives. Cameroon became a German colony in 1884. After World War I, the territory was divided between France and Britain.  In 1960 French Cameroon became independent as the Republic of Cameroon with the British part joining a year later.  Compared to other African countries Cameroon enjoys relatively high political and social stability. This has permitted the development of agriculture, roads, railways, and large petroleum and timber industries. Nevertheless, large numbers of Cameroonians live in poverty as subsistence farmers. Power lies firmly in the hands of the president, Paul Biya, and corruption is widespread. The English-speaking community has grown increasingly alienated from the government, and its politicians have called for greater decentralisation and even the secession of the former British-governed territories.

Thursday, Oct. 29

We left about 9:00 for the airport, had an easy check-in as a group, but with various delays due to technical aspects of traveling to another country, we didn’t take off until 11:00.  The plane was a Dornier 228 with seats for about 19.  With my little thermometer I measured the temperature at 90F-32C inside.  The pilots told us ahead of time that there was no AC, but that it would cool off at the higher elevation of about 12,000 ft – 4000m.  Later during the flight I noted the inside temp at 80F-26C.  We flew east above scattered clouds for 2 hours.

Below I could see red paths or roads through the forest.  Here and there were a few settlements.  Several rivers came into view, mostly running a red-brown color.  The landscape in every direction was green and flat.  In the distance to the north we saw a large city, which turned out to be the capital of Cameroon, Yaounde.  Continuing east the forest seemed darker and denser.  Looking down around noon the shadows from the clouds were directly underneath, showing how vertical the sun is so close to the equator. By 1:00 PM the sun had obviously moved westward because the shadows were off to the east.

We landed on a dirt strip after two fly overs.  The first time the pilots apparently saw tires on the runway (used to prevent illegal or unwanted landings), the second time the pilots checked to see if the items had been removed and finally the third time we landed.  Within about 10 minutes the people and luggage had been removed and the plane took off again. We were met by about 4 4-wheeled-drive vehicles and taken the short drive to our accommodations at the Doli Lodge (Doli means elephant), which is located near Dzanga-Ndoki National Park in the country of Central African Republic.

Our lodge is situated right on the Sangha River with locals (mostly men) paddling their dugouts up and down past the lodge.  They stand in the back and use the paddle seemingly effortlessly, but with much finesse, to navigate up and downstream.  We were told not to photograph them without their permission. Our guide suggested there are a couple of reasons for this.  One reason is that superstition suggests if you are photographed, then your spirit will be compromised and won’t go the right direction when you die. Another is that when tourists take their many pictures, the people don’t get anything out of it.  I am going to have copies made of my people pictures, send them to our local guide, Neville, and he will distribute them when he comes this way again.  Maybe that will smooth the way for the next tourists.

The rooms here are duplexes built on stilts so if the river rises or it rains, the buildings will be high and dry.  The actual space is very adequate with two twin beds and a bunk.  There are windows on three sides, a large balcony with a great view to the river, a bath with a cold shower, toilet and sink. The only shortcomings are that the water doesn’t always flow and the power comes from a generator which runs from 8 AM to 1 PM and again from 6 to 9:30 PM, I think to power the kitchen activities. In between it is off, so you have to do battery charging and other activities that take power during those times.  There is a bucket of water in the shower to use to flush the toilet when the water is not running.  It all seems to work.

After a very tasty lunch of fish, noodles and cooked vegetables, we had an hour to unpack, then were taken in dugouts along the river and into the side channels where the locals have fishing nets.  There were three of us per dugout with two local paddlers.  The water is moving at a steady pace, but didn’t seem to hamper the paddlers.  You could hear birds back in the forest and now and then a local would paddle by, but basically the only noise was the young paddlers talking to each other.

Back at the lodge we enjoyed beer and peanuts on the deck, watched the sun set in a rosy glow.  I heard two guests speaking German, so learned from them about what excursions were ahead of us, also about different cameras.

Dinner was similar in scope to lunch.  Most of the group left, but I brought out a game that was given to me by a German friend, similar to dominos, but the pieces are triangular, so we have named it “trimino”.  Our main guide, Fausto, from South Africa played with us, which was nice, as we learned more about him.  He is 46,  was born in Libya to Italian parents, moved at age 7 on a moment’s notice with his parents and sister back to Italy when the political situation changed in Libya. Two years later his father had a business opportunity in Zimbabwe, so they all moved to its capital of Harare, where he lived until he was 38.  At that point the living situation under President Mugabe had deteriorated so completely that he moved to South Africa, where he has continued his profession as a guide.

Monday, Nov. 2

This morning we had breakfast around 6:00 in anticipation of leaving for the airstrip at 7:30.  However the plane didn’t arrive until 10:00, so we sat on the balcony, waiting for the sound of the plane engines.  At the landing strip were about 50 locals watching.  Knowing that they didn’t want their pictures taken I got into the plane and sat on the far side, hoping my pictures through the double windows would show the event.  One boy about 12 had on a t-shirt with MONTANA in large letters across the front and a gun below.  A lot of this kind of clothing comes from world welfare organizations.  As we took off it was possible to see the local village of Bayamga, the school and the Sangha River.

A little over two hours later flying SW we arrived in the capital city of Gabon, Libreville, where we cleared customs and said good by to Neville, our wonderful guide from Cameroon.  The airport was modern, air conditioned, clean.  I noticed jets from obscure African airlines such as Gabon Airlines, Air Burkina, Ethiopian Air, Air Max Africa and Air Congo.

Gabon  is a country in west central Africa on the Atlantic that straddles the equator, is about the size of Colorado or half as large as Spain.  Gabon gained independence from France in 1960.  The small population density together with abundant natural resources and foreign private investment have helped make Gabon one of the most prosperous countries in the region.  Libreville, with a population of about 1,000,000 on the Atlantic coast, is the capital and largest city of Gabon.  It is obvious that oil money has paid for some large new high rise buildings.  The entire country has only about 1.5 million in population.

Originally the plans were to eat lunch at a restaurant in Libreville, but the weather forecast for our final destination two hours south looked bad, so we ate sandwiches brought along from the lodge, made with egg omelets while standing under the wing of “our” plane as it was being fueled, then headed south.

Looking down we followed the coastline over rivers, jungles, islands, and flat grassy areas.  At one point Fausto said we had just flown over the equator. Our final destination is at 2 degrees south, about a 45-minute flight just south of Port Gentile.  By around 3:00 we landed on a paved, unsupervised strip, where our luggage was unloaded and moved into a small trailer pulled by a Toyota 4×4 Land Cruiser.  The 9 of us sat in groups of threes on seats built up above the level of the cab.  It was covered and fairly comfortable, especially when we were moving.  Before leaving town, the driver stopped to put air into the tires, but about 30 minutes later we heard a “thump… thump” and we had a flat tire.  The driver didn’t have the appropriate tools to take off the tire and the occasional truck only came by about every 15 minutes.  Fortunately there was a transmitting tower nearby so the cell phone worked.  Meanwhile we stood around on a deserted road out in the country for about an hour.  I practiced my photography, others talked.  Finally help arrived and the trip continued over wide but very rutted and often muddy roads for a total of at least two hours.  Around 6:00 we pulled off the “main” road and shortly thereafter arrived at this beautiful lodge located right on the water.

As we entered the lodge the sun was setting, so I headed out to the deck overlooking the lagoon to photograph the wonderful colors.  The reflections on the water were spectacular.  We were then shown to our room, really a suite with two sections, a sitting room, then a bedroom off of which is the large bath… with hot water!  After the last place the almost constant electricity and drinkable water seem like a luxury.  The lodge is located on the mainland side of the lagoon. There is a narrow spit of land (Loango National Park) between the lagoon and the Atlantic.  Besides our group of 10 there are only 2 other customers at the resort owned by Dutch and run by South Africans.

As I unpacked some of my clothes, I threw away a semi-squashed banana which I had carried all day in my purse into the wastebasket before taking a shower.  After toweling off I heard kind of a clicking sound and noticed a large crab trying to hide behind the wastebasket where the squashed banana was located.  Thinking the solution would be to throw the banana outside, I moved it, then we headed off to dinner, where I told the lodge personnel about the crab.

Dinner was served on the outside deck overlooking the lagoon.  First came a very tasty soup, then fish with spinach.  It was possible to order red and white wines, from which we chose a white from South Africa.

After dinner we played “Trimino”, then returned to our room to prepare for a 5:30 wake-up call and 6:30 departure to the national park located about an hour by boat across the toward the Atlantic. When we walked in I heard the crab scratching the floor, but couldn’t find it, so we decided it must have been more scared of us than we were of it, got in bed and turned out the lights. It was just short of 10:00 PM.

Cindy’s complete photos are here.

Onward to Page Two of Africa Journal || Back to Yale ‘62 Home

Tuesday, Nov. 3

Knocking on the door woke us up at 5:30. It was dark outside. By 6:00 we were eating a very nice breakfast with freshly made muffins, French toast, yoghurt, cereal, fresh fruit, coffee or tea on the outside deck. The horizon looked very gray and by 6:30 it was pouring. Fausto, our South African guide, suggested we wait for the worst of the storm to pass before heading out. I spent the time taking pictures.

About 7:30 it seemed the worst of the rain had passed, so we were collected and boarded an open boat with three sets of seats for four. Since our location is about 2 degrees south of the equator, I thought a long sleeved shirt, pants and the plastic poncho they provided would be adequate for the day.

In the Lonely Planet the description of Loango National Park is as follows: “LNP very well may be the most varied and visually stunning of all of Gabon’s national parks. It is known for its mythically surfing hippos, but you will also find the largest concentration and variety of whales and dolphins, elephants wandering white sand beaches and an assortment of rare land mammals cavorting in the savanna.” Apparently the only lodge operating near this park is the one where we are staying, called Operation Loango. From here a guest can take boat and open safari vehicle trips through the park to the lodge’s satellite base camps. The lodge really does an excellent job with its food and the accommodations are first rate.

To get back to the boat trip for the day, when eight of us plus Fausto and 2 local guides departed, it was sprinkling, but then began pouring, a real tropical downpour. It didn’t take long until my pants were totally soaked, so the wet plus the wind chill factor from the boat’s speed, made for a MISERABLE experience. My glasses were totally wet, so impossible to see through and the rain hitting my face felt like pellets. About an hour later we left the lagoon and began motoring at a slower pace up a river in the rain for three more hours. By this time Dave had crawled under the bow of the boat to get out of the rain and warm up (remember this was at the equator!). During this time our guide Fausto was explaining all of the birds, which I couldn’t see, and didn’t want to view through my binoculars, which would have meant opening my backpack which I had put into a large plastic bag. So I hunkered down in my seat and tried to imagine myself in any other location, asked myself why I would have agreed to pay so much money to participate on such a horribly uncomfortable, and miserable excursion. The rest of the group seemed enthusiastic, but…. this was my experience!!! Dave remembers some good sightings of a swamp antelope, monkeys and many birds, including fish eagles and pine nut vultures.

About four hours after leaving the lodge, we stopped at a satellite camp where the crew set up a very tasty picnic lunch: cold fried fish and potato salad served on real plates with silverware, tea, coffee and pudding in small plastic containers. The camp was basic, but at least out of the rain. For the two hours we were there I was really cold and wet, hard to believe when one thinks we were almost right on the equator with the temperature about 80F/26C degrees. Swimming in the river nearby was a pink backed pelican, which of course, I enjoyed photographing.

I was dreading the trip back, but at least knew what was ahead. It wasn’t raining as hard, but still drizzling and we stopped all the time to see birds. Without the rain pelting my face, I could enjoy the beauty of the area. There is absolutely no sign of people, the water is dark from the tannins in the plants and the reflections are spectacular. I would have loved to photograph that, and fortunately Fausto did. This was a bird lovers’ paradise and Fausto was at his best locating and identifying many varieties.

We got back to the lodge at 5:00. All I wanted was a warm shower and to take off the wet clothes. I had intended to write in my journal and read my book, but when dinner was over around 8:00, all I could think of was bed, so by 8:30 I was asleep. In my mind I thought if I get up tomorrow and it’s raining, I’m staying at the lodge. Dave had more reserves to enjoy the evening, remembering a kabob dinner accompanied by wine, vegetable soup and ending with a crepe.

Wednesday, Nov. 4

Wake up again was at 5:30 and fortunately after 9 hours of sleep I felt pretty normal. It wasn’t raining, so I decided to participate in the excursion. By 6:30 we were on our way across the lagoon to Loango National Park where we loaded two new 4×4 Toyota Land Cruisers modified for safari use with three rows of seats and a canopy. Our group of 8 divided in half, 3 women in one vehicle who didn’t want to kayak and the other 5 together. The route took us on a rough track consisting of two ruts in the sand. As a result it was slow going. Eventually we began spotting forest buffalo, first in small groups and finally in larger herds, with one of about 40. They are all shades of brown with fuzzy ears. Often a bird or two are sitting on their backs, helping themselves to insects in the buffalo’s fur.

The African Forest Buffalo (Syncerus caffer nanus) is smaller than the Cape Buffalo, with horns that curve out backwards and upwards. Usually weighing between 265 and 565 kg, they are reddish brown in color. Its native habitat is the equatorial forest found in central and western Africa, and its diet consists primarily of grasses, twigs, and young shoots. African Forest Buffalo are sought after by hunters for their meat and horns. In the wild, leopards are its primary predator.

Further on we came upon small herds of forest elephants, typically with not more than three together. At one stop we spotted a large colony of perhaps 100 rosie bee eaters. They tunnel into the sand to create their nests. As we watched they were coming and going, popping in and out of the holes. While I drove around the park in one vehicle and lots of chances to photograph the buffalo, elephants and birds, Fausto accompanied the kayakers. They loaded into four kayaks and spent a couple of hours on the lagoon just behind the barrier beach. For half an hour they stopped at the turn around point and walked the short distance (500 ft – 170 m) to the Atlantic Ocean. It was low tide and the sand was firm with lots of shells, as well as the usual debris (mostly plastic bottles, etc.). On the beach it was sunny and warm.

Between 12:00 and 12:30 both groups met at one of the lodge’s satellite camps (Tassi Camp) and we ate lunch. There wasn’t enough water, unlike on other days, also the lunch was not nearly as special, probably because the lodge is so far from its supplier.

After lunch we divided into two groups: those who wanted to return to the lodge right away, and others who went to the beach first before returning home. Fausto pointed out animal tracks in the sand, also that the huge amounts of garbage at the high tide mark come from many neighboring countries. A study has been done to explain this, probably someone’s Ph.D. thesis!

As we returned to the vehicle and headed home a tropical downpour began. This time I was prepared with my jacket as well as the poncho, so the rain was not nearly as uncomfortable. Also the vehicle had a top, even though the sides were open. The long and bumpy ride back to the dock took 1 1/2 hours with a few elephant and forest buffalo viewings. En route Fausto explained how this whole area millions of years ago had consisted of forest, but when humans began living here, trees were removed and the land planted with the crops, first eaten by the locals, then sold to the Europeans. In the last 100 years or so, with the departure of the Europeans, the open areas have began the long process of reforestation. This starts with the first ground covers that send out tendrils. Once they have covered a small circular area, then the next plants come in. These are taller and create an environment for the first bush. After a hundred years you end up with a forested area large enough to support the buffalo, elephants, birds and other wildlife. Fausto is an amazingly well educated guide with many talents. We are fortunate to have him leading out group. I personally just wish that he had led more of the excursions that I participated in.

Back at the lodge around 4:30 we waited on the covered porch of our cabin until 5:00 when the electricity came back on, had a beer, looked at the pictures I had taken and deleted the ones of lesser quality. At this point I have 900 on the memory card, space for 200 more and two memory cards in reserve!

We were set up for dinner on the outside deck but just as we started, the rains came, so we quickly moved inside. It was a nice chicken meal with wine and fruit for dessert.

Thursday, Nov. 5

It was about 8:15 before we headed to the lodge for breakfast. I tried unsuccessfully to e-mail, then I wandered around the grounds with another woman in the group and tried to take interesting pictures. There are lots of flowering bushes and tropical plants. Dave read in a lounge chair by the pool. Some of the group had been out on a 4×4 wildlife watching trip again, while four returned to the mainland for the whole day. After lunch it began to rain again, so we read on our deck.

About 3:00 the weather improved and we left in a covered boat with Fausto, motored down the estuary until it discharged into the Atlantic via a gap in the barrier sand beach, where a few local fishermen were at work. We saw a variety of birds, including terns and a fish eagle eating a large fish. Near the gap the lodge had built the satellite Camp Katherine, which we explored. There were 5 cabins in a lovely setting. Just before sunset on the return boat ride to the main lodge, Fausto spotted a family of hippos. The largest one exposed the upper part of his body and opened his huge mouth in an aggressive gesture to encourage us to keep our distance. During the next 15 minutes or so that we observed the “herd”, we counted 7 hippos, including a couple of little ones. Typically the only part of their body that was visible was the top of their head. Since the light was fading and the animals only surfaced sporadically I didn’t try to take any pictures, but several of Fausto’s share the experience.

By 6:00 PM we were back at the lodge, where we heard a review of Principé Island (our next destination) by the lodge manager, who had run the Bom Bom resort there. Following this was a report by a young woman from the UK, who has been advising the locals in Gabon about national park operations since 2001. The fish dinner with wine was very tasty. Then we packed for an early departure the next day.

Since retelling of today’s events didn’t take up much space, I thought this would be a good place in the journal to include some excerpts from the Lonely Planet and other sources about Gabon. Gabon is shaping up to be Africa’s next best ecotourism destination. Thanks to President El Hadj Omar Bongo’s (he just died in 2009 and was succeeded by his son) designation of a whopping 10% of the country’s land as national parks – closing it down to loggers and miners and opening it up to travelers, conservationists and colonists- it is now possible to explore endless white-sand beaches, primate-filled tropical rain forests, rolling savannas and estuaries. The visitor can see wild creatures in their own pristine environment and will transport you back to a time when Mother Earth – not humans- ruled the land.”

A few facts:
Capital: Libreville
Languages: French and Fang
Population 1.42 million

History: Avoiding the coups, wars and poverty that have plagued the rest of the continent, Gabon has been an oasis of stability and prosperity in a very troubled region for more than 40 years. Its president has held power since 1967 and ranks as Africa’s longest-serving head of state. He has presided over an economy bolstered by income from oil, which has made Gabon one of the richest in sub-Saharan Africa – though dwindling reserves have forced planners to seek out other sources of revenue, and ecotourism has become the buzz word of the day.

Gabon has been inhabited for at least 400,000 years. Some 1200 rock paintings have been found that were made by iron-working cultures that razed the forest for agriculture, creating today’s savannah. The earliest modern society, the Pygmies, were displaced between the 16th and 18th centuries by migrating peoples from the north, principally the Fang, who came after settling in what is now Cameroon and Equatorial Guinea.

Contact with Europeans, starting with the arrival of the Portuguese in 1472 had a profound effect on tribal structures. British, Dutch and French ships traded for slaves, ivory and tropical woods. The coastal tribes established strong ties with these foreign powers, but the interior tribes defended their lands against European encroachment. Animosity still lingers between the coastal tribes and the rest of the country.

The capital, Libreville, was established in 1849 for freed slaves on an estuary popular with traders and quickly became a mecca for every God-fearing missionary in the Western world. It represented an unlimited source of pagan souls to be saved.

In 1912 Albert Schweitzer, missionary, ex-theologian, and physician, set off for Gabon with his family, eventually setting up a hospital in Lambarene. The original hospital operated out of a converted chicken coop, but over the years grew into a multi-complex health center. Some of his more radical moves included the relaxing of hygiene standards so that families of patients could prepare food on site for their relatives. Schweitzer eventually won the Nobel Peace prize for his work in Gabon.

During the early years of the 20th century, when colonization was still seen as an economic rather than a social or ethical issue, French private companies exploited Gabon by forcing Africans to work for them. Having only recently thrown off the shackles of slavery, the Gabonese were understandably bent out of shape by this new form of indentured slavery and, like other Africans in French Equatorial Africa, vented their anger in periodic revolts. Each successive revolt was quelled, and by the time a new broom swept these old regimes out of the country the companies had destroyed the forests, used up most of the other natural resources and sent the country into an economic slump that lasted until after W.W.I.

The country became self-governing in 1958, and won independence in 1960. Gabon continues to grapple with such issues as substandard health care and schools.

Culture: Someone once said that the Gabonese like to act more French than the French themselves, and this certainly could hold true in Westernized, glitzy Libreville, despite the remaining resentment of the old colonial masters who are also still Gabon’s biggest trading and investment partners. But beyond the big city (and oil-soaked Port Gentil), most Gabonese are still living simply, sometimes in the same conditions and traditions as hundreds of years ago.

Yet even in tiny remote villages you won’t find the kind of poverty seen in other parts of Africa. Everyone in Gabon has enough money for beer, and that’s just what they spend it on. Women are allowed to join in, but only after the wood is gathered, the food is prepared and the rest of the work is done. On Sundays everyone dresses in their best and heads off to church where spirited dancing and singing ensues.

If you are in a hurry to go somewhere or get anything done Gabon can be a frustratingly slow country, both because of the French-inherited bureaucracy as well as the rejection of Westernized work hours.

Environment: Lying flush on the west coast of Africa and straddling the equator, Gabon is about half the size of France and a hundred times more fertile. It is bordered by Equatorial Guinea to the northwest, Cameroon to the north and Congo to the east and south.

Gabon is a country of astonishing landscapes and almost insane biodiversity, much of which is still undiscovered and unexploited. Though almost 75% of the country is covered in dense tropical rain forest, this equatorial country is also full of endless white-sand beaches, savannas, rushing rivers, hidden lagoons, rocky plateaus and canyons, cloud-tipped mountains and inselbergs (isolated rock domes overlooking the surrounding forest canopy), all of which are home to an amazing array of flora and fauna.

Friday, Nov. 6

We were up at 5:30 for a 6:30 departure in two Toyota Land Cruisers for the 60 km drive back to the airport. One was pulling a small trailer with our duffel bags. It had rained off and on for the last few days and the tracks (you couldn’t call it a road) were totally rutted. Basically the surface consisted of mud or sand. Eventually one of the vehicles got stuck, so the one we were in maneuvered itself so as to be able to pull the other one out. The 60 km drive took 3 hours!!! It is amazing to me that any tourists find that hotel, even though it is beautifully appointed, in a great location with all of the amenities, including a swimming pool. A new visitor to the area might think the lagoon and nearby ocean would be great places to swim, but there are crocodiles and hippos all around, making a venture into the water very dangerous.

Back to the drive, it rained part of the time. We were sitting in three rows with three to a row in a vehicle that only had a roof. Fortunately we were outfitted with plastic ponchos, so were able to keep relatively dry.

Fausto, was in our vehicle and shared stories of growing up in Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe, traveling in the bush with friends and alone, of hitchhiking long distances, of being bitten by a very poisonous snake, and enduring bouts of malaria. For the past couple of days he hadn’t eaten much of anything, finally admitted that he had picked up some kind of intestinal problem. His cure was to stay hydrated but to stop eating for 48 hours, and apparently that worked, because even though he did have antibiotics along, he didn’t like to use them, and hadn’t. At age 46 he has endless experience in the wild with every possible situation. He also told us about qualifying for a license as a wildlife guide, which is very rigorous. When asked how many birds he can identify, he figured about 500, not to mention plants, animals, insects, etc.

Sitting next to me in the vehicle on this 3-hour drive was a very nice young man employed at the hotel. We had lots of time to talk, so he told me his story. His first name is Hassan. He was born in a village near Timbuktu in Mali, belongs to the Tuaregs, a nomadic group found in that part of Africa. His father is a “white” Tuareg and his mother a “black”, who had been a slave to the father, but I don’t think slave in the usual sense of the word. When they married, the groom’s father gave her family 60 camels, which shows he was a man of means. Hassan’s father is an imam, (an Islamic leadership position, often the leader of a mosque and the community), who because of his family and tribal connections (the tribe is everything in that culture, also in many others), moved the family to Saudi Arabia, where Hassan grew up along with his 9 siblings. Eventually he studied Hotel Management, has worked in Dubai (United Arab Emirates) and now in Gabon. Amazingly, at least to us Americans, he speaks 6 languages: Arabic, French, English, the Tuareg dialect, and two others. He was with our group, as he was going to meet his fiancée at the plane, and she was to return with him to the resort for the next two weeks.

After a police road block and passport check we arrived at the Omboué airport around 9:30, just before the Africa’s Connection charter landed, a Dornier 228-19 passenger with the same two pilots. I saw Hassan’s fiancée disembark, a very lovely, modern woman named Alice, with an elaborate hairdo. Fortunately I was able to take a picture of them before we had to board the plane.

We flew about an hour back to Libreville. Off to the east about 200 km is the city of Lambaréné, where Albert Schweitzer came almost 100 years ago to set up his hospital. At the Libreville airport we were escorted through the immigration process by a local agent hired by the travel company, then reboarded our plane for the hour’s flight to the island of Principe which lies just north of the equator and about 300 km off the coast of Africa. While waiting to get on the plane I made a note of the different flight destinations that afternoon from the Libreville airport: Cotonau in Benin; Bamako, Mali; Brazzaville, Congo; Addis Ababa, Ethiopia; Lagos, Nigeria; Paris, France; Johannesburg, South Africa; Abidjan, Ivory Coast; Bata, Equatorial Guinea; Duala, Cameroon; Dakar, Senegal; Ouagadougou, Burkina Fasso; Pointe-Noire, Republic of the Congo.

Our plane landed at the partially paved main airport on the island of Principe about 12:00 noon, having lost an hour flying west. From the air we could see our destination, the Bom Bom Resort, located by itself on the coast. The island is in the same time zone as Great Britain. Principe is 19 km long and 15 wide, the smaller of the 2 islands that make up this tiny nation of Sao Tomé and Principe, consists of jagged mountains covered in a dense tropical forest, similar to the volcanic look of the Hawaiian Islands. The country is the second smallest African country (in terms of population) and is the smallest country in the world that is not a former US trusteeship, a former UK dependency or a European micro state. It is also the smallest Portuguese speaking country in the world and covers an area of 1000 sq. km.

Sao Tomé and Principe, believed to have been originally uninhabited, were discovered by Portuguese navigators in 1471 and settled by the end of the century. Intensive cultivation by slave labor made the islands a major producer of sugar during the 17th century, but when the price of sugar fell and slave labor proved difficult to control, the islands increasingly looked towards the slave trade to bolster the economy, becoming an important weigh station for slave ships heading from Africa to Brazil. In the 19th century two new cash crops, coffee and cocoa, overtook the old sugar plantations. By the early 20th century, Sao Tome was one of the world’s largest producers of cocoa. In 1876 slavery was outlawed, but was simply replaced with a similar system of forced labor for low wages. Contract workers came in from Mozambique, Cape Verde and the other parts of the Portuguese empire. During these times there were frequent uprisings and revolts, often brutally put down by the Portuguese. The Portuguese revolution of 1974 brought the end of the overseas empire, and in 1975, Lisbon granted Sao Tomé independence. The Portuguese exodus left the country with virtually no skilled labor, an illiteracy rate of 90%, only one doctor and many abandoned cocoa plantations. The majority of the plantations were nationalized four months after independence, legislation was passed prohibiting any one person from owning more than 100 hectares (250 acres). The country remained closely aligned with Angola, Cuba and communist Eastern Europe until the demise of the Soviet Union. Sao Tomé and Principe continues to be one of Africa’s poorest countries, even though there are believed to be enormous untapped off-shore oil reserves. It barely scrapes by on $25 million a year of foreign aid along with $5 million US in cocoa exports.

The total population on the two islands is close to 193,000. Only 4500 live on Principe, the rest in Sao Tomé, the capital. All are descended from various ethnic groups that have migrated to the islands since 1485. Here are some other facts: major language is Portuguese, major religion Christianity, life expectancy is 62 for men and 64 for women, main export is cocoa and the money is called the Dobra with the exchange rate of 16,000 to US $1.00. Only about 20 tourists a week come here.

Outside the capital of Sao Tomé most of the people live very simple lives, with agriculture and fishing the main occupations. In the morning the boats come in and fish are distributed, late morning the market bustles, a siesta is taken to avoid the afternoon heat and then its time to drink some palm wine. In the evening people gather wherever there is a TV set or a full deck of cards.

Returning to how our day continued to unfold, we cleared customs at the airport, which consisted of a visual review of our visas, as there was no computer. Then we were on our way down the hill on a red mud road to the resort, a 15- minute drive in two old 4×4s. We passed lots of very poor-looking children and adults living mostly in one and two room shacks, often built on stilts to minimize the effects of rain and bugs. At the resort we first were shown to our room, actually a suite in all-white, directly facing the ocean with our own beach. There is a sitting area with couch and two chairs facing a new TV, which we turned on once, then a large desk with room and plugs for the computer, but not internet connection. The bath is completely sleek with a separate room for the toilet next to the shower and sink.

Right away we walked across the 250 meter bridge to the restaurant, which is located on its own island about a ten-minute walk across the bay with churning waves beneath. The resort grounds are spectacular with tropical plants in every direction and great vistas to the volcanic features in the water. This is definitely a magnificent location. We were the only guests in the restaurant which is also white with spotlessly clean tablecloths and napkins, two different varieties of each eating utensil, views out to the water, smiling waiters ready to offer every kind of service. It was nice to eat a salad that seemed safe, also fish with cooked vegetables and fruit.

Right after lunch we drove to the nearby colonial town of San Antonio, actually the only town on Principe, located at the end of a shallow harbor. It is full of faded, cracked, pastel structures, a sad reminder of former colonial splendor, with all buildings in various states of disrepair. The town has a population of about 2,000, seems pretty basic There are less than 100 vehicles on the island, which includes cars, trucks, buses, but not motorcycles. We saw people going about their normal routine, children sitting around smiling and waving, happy to pose for pictures. Our walk took us around the main square which had a church, post office and city hall, then further toward the market. There are little booths right on the street that sell small quantities of items or offer services like a beauty salon. The main market offered shirts displayed on the walls, small piles of fish, fruits and vegetables, cooking implements, palm wine and red palm oil. Fortunately we were able to take lots of pictures, although I try to be polite, ask people for permission or click surreptitiously.

Back on the street we walked by a booth where I noticed that the man inside had on a t-shirt with stars and stripes in red-white-and blue, and a large Obama picture on the front. He was willing to pose for me, seemed pleased to be selected. Slowly we wandered back to the car and I took as many pictures as I could of houses, laundry drying, kids playing, etc.

Just after we arrived at the hotel a powerful thunderstorm hit. There was a major downpour, so I had a short nap, while Dave went for a walk along the beach. About 6:00 the rain stopped so we could head to the restaurant for pre-dinner wine and a nice meal with the group. By 8:30 we were back in our room where we watched the almost full moon rise over the Atlantic with a pretty sea reflection. Before bed, Dave went for another swim while I updated my journal.

Before leaving for dinner we had been told to turn up the air-conditioning as high as possible, because the power is turned off from midnight until 6:00 AM. Apparently the room will stay relatively cool through the night if it has a good head start. Actually I did sleep well, although was surprised when I got up at 5:00, that there was no water, either.

Sunday, Nov. 8

Today there was nothing planned group-wise, which meant we could enjoy the gardens, beaches, pool, internet…everything the resort offered. Dave got up at 5:00, took a walk along the beach, went swimming, then had tea on the deck watching a morning rain shower. Meanwhile I was still asleep. About 8:30 we headed for breakfast across the long footbridge to the restaurant and fortunately the skies had cleared by then. We were the only guests, had a leisurely meal because we didn’t have to hurry to leave on an outing. I had taken my pictures of Montana along and showed them to the head waiter, as he had probably never heard of Montana before, or moose, ground squirrels and prairie dogs.

We had been wanting to use the internet here, but the satellite connection hadn’t worked before. Fortunately this morning everything performed perfectly. Dave used the hotel’s and I my little laptop. Even more amazing was the possibility to connect to Bresnan, as it usually doesn’t work beyond the borders of the US.

Once we had sent off quick reports to family and friends, Dave had checked the results of the World Series and the U of MT Grizzly football scores, we considered our e-mailing a success and headed down the beautiful, clean and deserted beach for a walk. Huge trees hang out over the sand, which is cleaned of debris at every high tide. At intervals the lava flows reach out into the ocean. It didn’t take long to work up a sweat, because of the high humidity. Actually the temperature doesn’t go much above 85F/30C, but in the sun and away from wind a person begins to perspire profusely. Fortunately there were few bugs, although members of our group who went out for an early morning bird watching walk said as soon as they were away from the water that the mosquitoes were horrible.

Dave tried out the snorkeling possibilities right off the beach in front of our room. There were lots of fish, but not too much color, with the exception of a couple of colorful parrot fish. The small coral formations are dead.

Lunch was very tasty: an Indian dish like a fried wonton with peas, meat and potatoes inside. The main course was very crunchy, freshly prepared fish and chips. The servings tend to be very large, which seems like a waste. I hate to think how much weight we could have gained from cleaning our plates at every meal!

While Dave took a walk along the beach in the other direction I tried to photograph some birds, then read my book, which I’d like to finish. When Dave returned we went swimming right in front of our chalet on our own “private” beach. We are in number 2, but there is not a number 1, which makes us believe that it was damaged in a storm. At 5:00, when Dave returned from a beach walk, the downpour started. The sky had turned black, the wind started up, then the skies opened up. By 6:00 PM Sunday night, the storm was howling outside, blowing rain and salt water onto the glass panes of our door, then running underneath, creating puddles inside.

Tonight is our farewell dinner, as tomorrow at this time we will be sitting in the airport of Douala, Cameroon waiting for the 11:00 PM departure of our flight to Paris. I think I’m ready for home, but this has been a very educational adventure, with almost no negatives. For me the low point was motor boating through a downpour for 4 hours while I got more and more chilled. What I learned is that you can feel cold even when it is 80-plus if your clothes are drenched and the wind chill is high enough. On subsequent days I had my rain jacket along to wear under the plastic poncho, and the combination worked very well. The most positive aspect is that we stayed well throughout. I’m looking forward to looking at my 1100-plus pictures on the computer screen at home, where I can delete, edit and crop.

The rain slowed down enough for us to take the 10 minute walk across the bridge to our “last” dinner here at Bom Bom resort was pleasant. We sampled the bottle of local palm wine. Actually it wasn’t very flavorful, but apparently has a high alcohol content. We parted ways around 9:00 planning on heading to the airport the next day just after lunch.

Dave’s email: helidave@hotmail.com

Cindy’s complete photos are here.

Back to Page One of Africa Journal || Back to Yale ‘62 Home

Our email request to share holiday newsletters has triggered the veritable tsunami of  news you will find below.  But first, best wishes for a speedy recovery to Kirk McDonald, who reported before Xmas that he had fallen and couldn’t get up … no, seriously, Kirk tumbled not from skis but from a ladder while in Park City, Utah, and was wheelchair-bound recovering from several orthopedic injuries.

This month, Steve Buck says he is off with a US Army mission to Saudi Arabia, no details but we assume his role is civilian and not military. Steve is the man who had the idea of asking for Christmas letters as news material for this site, and turned out to be a winner.

Despite discomfort, Kirk McD was able to send in this report of the New York mini-reunion he and Steve Susman organized last October, apparently a  dress rehearsal for the BIG NY mini set for 2010:

“Several members of the class got together in New York City over the weekend of October 17 for a mini reunion organized by Kirk MacDonald and Steve Susman. The format for this get-together differed from others in that since it took place on a weekend, the normal venue of the Yale Club at Grand Central was changed to the Metropolitan Club at 60th and Fifth Avenue on Central Park. Classmates who were not local stayed at the Metropolitan club which by all accounts was luxurious and comparably priced to the Yale Club.

“Everyone met on Friday evening for a drink and dinner in the greenhouse dining room overlooking Central Park. Saturday morning Steve Susman organized private visits to the Whitney and Guggenheim Museums, after which everyone descended by car or subway to Greenwich Village for a nice lunch before attending a performance of Our Town. Tappy Wilder organized the theater and gave a lengthy ‘talkback’ afterwards.

“Later Friday evening, everyone boarded a glass topped luxury touring boat for a delicious dinner cruise around Manhattan ending up just in front of the Statue of Liberty for a  spectacular view.”

Also in October was the Whiff’s 100th birthday, reported earlier in our YAM class notes by Tom Cutler, as you can read here if you missed it by going to this link.  Not in the YAM notes, because of space limits, was Tom’s moving report of a side trip our ‘62 Whiffs made to visit Tom Luckey in East Haven:

“On Sunday, a group of us went out to have a brunch and serenade Tom Luckey at his farm in East Haven, including John Stewart, Charlie Michener, Dixie Carroll, Cam Carey, Peter Clark, Mike Moore, myself and Tom’s long-time best friend, Louis Mackall. Tom was in good spirits and whenever we finished one song, he would leap into another (often a patriotic one) and we would all join in. A very special time with a few folks ducking outside to shed a tear or two. He’s an incredibly brave and still most creative guy.”

A week after this, many of the same Whiffs journeyed to witness Louie Mackall going to the altar at his family’s home in Amagansett, Long Island, marrying Patricia Klindienst whom Tom described as better looking and smarter than Louie.

Moving on to late November, many classmates began migrating towards  New Haven.  The 1962 vintage of Yale Daily News-men gathered in New York for a mini reunion during the week before The Game,  with Al Chambers, Buckley, Berger, Cory, Finkle, Gray, Liebman, and Weeden attending and  many  deep conversations took place, as we would expect from that brain trust.  For our foodie audience, “Borgo Antico” was the  dinner venue.

Chambers journeyed on to attend the AYA annual assembly in New Haven, as he reports  elsewhere in this posting, but, perhaps clairvoyant, did not stay on for the gridiron duel.

Kane and Hedlund, not at all clairvoyant,   stepped up for that, enjoying wonderful Fall weather, 50 yard line seats on the H side,  and three quarters of satisfying  football before the earth swallowed our team (again). Let’s hope Coach Williams is good at recruiting.

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!:  The news you have all been waiting for – Hedlund has new call letters:   W1BV (or whiskey one bravo victor) – call him, preferably from an exotic location like Myanmar so he can book it in his log.

Seen cruising the pre-Game throng, and in high spirits, were Peter Cohen, Gerry Swirsky, Bob Oliver, Dan Koenigsberg, and Peter Sipple and spouse, the latter spotted because of his YC1962 reunion cap. Swirsky’s and  Chairman Bob’s natty outfits drew many compliments (see photo below), and contrasted sharply with some others, also shown.  We greeted Dave Hummel at the Yale tent where he was escorting Japanese University guests who had come to New Haven to attend the AYA assembly  as   a follow up to the AYA summer trip to Japan (see our archived article from our last web posting for that report, and the companion photos by Dave’s wife Cindy).

Musical and athletic classmate Joe Holmes had some nice W’s reported in his wife’s Xmas letter, excerpt here:

“2009 had one big milestone  — Joe turned 70 (whoo hooo), and he took advantage of it.
He won the national 70s in Paddle, won the 70s Coral Beach tennis, (singles and doubles), He played on the 70+ Friendship Cup Tennis Team  (U.S. vs Canada),
and won a couple of senior golf events at Silvermine GC. Poppy & Joe won the Connecticut State husband-wife golf tournament. Good year. Who says getting old isn’t fun. Of course, he squeezes that in between his
3 singing groups, bowling and duplicate bridge.”

From Bert Decker in San Francisco, he wants to share his annual “Top Ten Best (and Worst) Communicators” list at http://decker.com/blog/ .  Trust me this is worth reading, especially the TEN WORST.  A  well written look back on  people we heard a lot  from in 2009, and a few you have never heard of too.  Here’s a sample:

9. Timothy Geithner & Hank Paulson
Timothy Geithner started out badly as he continued the dour communications style of Hank Paulson. Both held the same jobs as Secretary of the Treasury in one of the most critical times of financial crisis, and both couldn’t have been much worse in communicating the way out. The air of aloofness was almost palpable with Hank Paulson, and Tim Geithner was not much better. And when Geithner got excused by President Obama for an income tax ‘error’ (more on Obama next), he then topped his lack of communicating credibility with his announcement of a plan – and there was no plan.

10. Barack Obama
Every President has to be on the list, one way or the other because communications is his primary job. Last year Obama was #1 on the Best list and President Bush was #1 on the Worst list. This year Obama doesn’t exactly trade places, but he’s the best of the worst since he has failed to fulfill the promise of his communications platform. He was a great communicator as a candidate, not so much as a leader. The New York Times wrote about “The President Whose Words Once Soared.” For the full report see our blog post here, but in summary here’s why:
* He is aloof and professorial, actually most often speaking formally with his nose a bit aloft
* He speaks in bursts and a repetitious cadence, almost in a sing-song manner
* He leans with an enormous emphasis on scripts and the teleprompter
* He has NEVER learned how to use the teleprompter well
* Often he makes gaffes when he speaks spontaneously
* And he is way over exposed, where speaking on the trivial diminishes the important

From Norm Jackson in Paris:

“The newlyweds  Norm and Margo (last Feb. 14) are getting ready for their honeymoon trip around the world.  Well, actually it’s a home-hunting trip. We’re thinking of leaving Paris and moving closer to family, either hers or mine.  So, we’re going first to Bodhgaya, where the Buddha attained enlightenment for 10 days, then on to Oz ( editor’s note:  apparently a place in Australia no one has heard of except Norm and Margo) where we’ll visit Margo’s parents, 5 siblings, and her daughter, before visiting my daughter in Oakland and her son on Tortola.  Just a little 3-month jaunt!

(In or around) Paris has been my home for 25 years, so maybe it’s time to see a bit of ‘Down Undah’ and move on.”

From me to Norm, quoting comedian David Sedaris on his own trip to Down Under:  “Australia is Canada in a thong.”

From Clark Winslow:

After Christmas and snow in Wayzata  (Minn),
we flew to our home in Belvedere Island/San Francisco for the remainder
of holiday.  With family and guests here, we total 10.  Looking forward
to the New Year while we are very grateful for 2009.  Aside from all
being healthy and doing well,  our client accounts are up  42% this year
and our assets under management have grown from $4.5 billion to nearly
$9 billion (all Large Cap Growth).   It is nice to be having fun and
making clients happy!

From  Eli Newberger:

Friends, hoping (seriously) to urge the mental health and medical
communities to consider the role of music in the prevention and treatment of
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I just posted a set of videos of my Jazz Tuber Trio’s concert in September on jazz themes of trauma and resilience. Songs played and sung by
Jimmy Mazzy, the banjo virtuoso, and Ted Casher, clarinet and tenor sax
master, include Frankie and Johnnie, Put ‘em Down Blues, ‘Lectric Chair
Blues, Lina Blues, Put It Right Here (or Keep It Out There), Let’s Have
Another Cup of Coffee, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, Ain’t Nobody’s Business,
and Hava Nagila. You can if you like watch the whole narrated movie, or
check out the individual songs here:
http://www.elinewberger.com/videos.html
or (songs only) on YouTube here:
http://www.youtube.com/elinewberger

There’s more! On to This Just In: January ‘10 – Page 2 || Back to Yale ‘62 Home

From Bill Doying, who came up with one of the feature articles for this edition,

We’ll be driving to Florida (Apalachicola, via several nights in Charleston) , starting December 18th, but returning before New Years. Happy Holidays.

Chris Snow writes that his 4-year term on the Bainbridge Island (Wa) City Council ran out 12/09. His comment:

“Almost nothing in my thirty five years in the Foreign Service prepared me for the cut and thrust of local politics.” He has a book coming out on this theme, titled Politics Abroad and at Home.

Chuck Elkins in D.C. has taken on the mission of starting an alumni association for former US Environmental Protection Agency employees, reminding us that it is 40 years’ worth!

Another glancing blow from Father Time, albeit unintended.

From Peter and Karen Bell:

(editor’s note: readers may recall that Peter recently relocated from Atlanta, after years on the Emory U. Faculty and research at CDC, to his childhood roots in Gloucester, Mass)

On January 20, we celebrated Obama’s inauguration at a party with other Gloucester volunteers who had worked for his election. In February, we reaffirmed our commitment to place by reshingling our roof. It is meant to last 50 years! During the summer we reaped the rewards of our composting with fresh raspberries, tomatoes, Swiss chard, and arugula, as well as bouquets of sweet peas and zinnias.

Peter continues as a senior research fellow at the Hauser Center for Nonprofit Organizations at Harvard’s Kennedy School. He and Sherine Jayawickrama, a former CARE colleague also at Hauser, organize semi-annual retreats of the CEOs of major relief and development NGOs. Peter also serves on several nonprofit boards.

In early October, Peter and I embarked on a 10-day cruise (our first ever) in the Mediterranean, visiting Tunis, Pompeii, Barcelona, Palma de Mallorca and other ports. Onboard the gigantic Noordam, we confronted momentous decisions with equanimity: whether to play scrabble or take part in a sing-along, whether to follow the chef’s dining recommendations or make our own selections, and how many laps to fast-walk on the Promenade Deck.

In November, the Bell family gathered in New York to see children Emily ( Yale ‘ 99) and Jonathan run in the NYC marathon. This was Jonathan’s fourth marathon, but Emily’s first. She used it to raise money for the Touch Foundation, which seeks to improve health care in Tanzania. Jonathan, Veronique and Melanie came from London for the weekend of Halloween. Window shopping in Greenwich Village and Soho and walking the new High Line urban park, Melanie created a sensation dressed for Halloween in a princess costume. For the marathon the next day, New York and New Yorkers were at their best. Posted at First Avenue, we managed to catch sight of both Jonathan and Emily 17 miles into the race, but later missed them nearing the finish line on Central Park South

From Bill Wheeler (the former wine Wheeler of Belvedere): photos showing a couple of paintings that he has done in his house in San Miguel de Allende where the Wheelers spend two months a year:

And another (Murray) Wheeler:

I’ve continued to go on the Yale Alumni Chorus trips, this summer to Guatemala and Mexico, next June to Cuba, and they’ve inspired me to rejoin a very good chorus here in Boston. I continue to do some acting with a small company here. A lot of tennis, event planning for the Yale Club of Boston, managing my condo association and a bed and breakfast apartment in mid-Cambridge, and a few volunteer efforts seem to keep me with very few complaints.

Rev. Rod Quainton and family had an eventful year, as these excerpts from their Xmas newsletter show:

Tucson in March -to enjoy close friends, the desert sun and a margarita or two. On the plane the Quaintons struck up an acquaintance with a scripture-citing young bull rider on his way to a rodeo, and he made rodeo fans out of them.
New Mexico in May – more friends, desert sun and a margarita or two. Quaintons lead a spiritual retreat to Ghost Ranch in New Mexico for 26 centered on Georgia O’Keeffe – A Sense of Place. The activities included hiking, fine dining – Coyote Grill, now there’s a margarita! -meditation, prayer, art viewing, star gazing, reading, and gorgeous weather on top of it all. On our way out of Dodge we stopped to browse in the local General Store along with celebrity Rod Stewart. His tell tale spiked out coif gave him away in the midst of the cow pokes.
Africa in June -The adventure that stretched us into a new comfort zone, thanks to the church, was our two week African mission trip to Zambia, Botswana and South Africa. The purpose was to build relationships at the Kafakumba Mission, outside Ndola, Zambia where our group of five hearty travelers participated in the Pastors’ School. Rod preached four times in our week there. Nanci, along with two colleagues, participated in the pastor’s wives’ group. We took away memories of a joyous and committed people of faith and were humbled and exalted simultaneously. We hope to return in 2011 when Rod expects to take a sabbatical. After that week in Zambia, including a side trip to Victoria Falls and the Chobe Game Preserve in Botswana, we headed to Cape Town, a truly wonderful cosmopolitan city. There we visited Robben Island, the prison where Nelson Mandela was incarcerated for 27 years as well as a township to experience urban poverty in contrast to the rural poverty we encountered in Zambia. Invictus, the recent Clint Eastwood movie release in which Morgan Freeman plays Mandela provides glimpses of the Cape Town we experienced.
Victoria in September – This year’s adventures were capped off by a Q Family reunion in Victoria, B.C. Canada. Rod was honored with the preaching responsibilities at Christ Church Cathedral – a glorious reunion and family gathering supplemented by perfect fall weather.

Rod, in his everyday life when not traveling, has been focused on First United Methodist Church’s Ministries to the unemployed, a newly created internal mission program. The circumstances in Michigan are difficult for many and he is doing his best to address the job situation for those in and around the church community.

Steve Rosenthal had a book published last Fall, a very elegant and lovely photographic album titled White on White, the Rural Churches of New England. Steve, a distinguished professional architectural photographer , presented the book at a signing ceremony held December 8th in his old home town of Newton , Mass.[ Back in the early ’90’s, Steve was a leader in CorSec’s Newton neighborhood of Auburndale, and we fought together the grandiose expansion plans of our arrogant local college President. Because of this history, CorSec journeyed across town to the book signing but the crowd was so thick I couldn’t make it up front to say hello and ask for a complimentary copy – hey – the sticker price was $70! Kidding aside, the photographs in this book are expert and beautiful and together with the essays by Verlyn Klinkenborg and architecture critic Robert Campbell, the book captures a big part of old New England’s architectural and landscape heritage.

From Roman Weil, still rambling through the groves of academe:

During the year, I taught as visitor at Harvard Law School, Carnegie
Mellon Tepper School of Business, King Fahd University of Petroleum and
Minerals. In addition, I had some other duties involving Executive
Education at both Univ of Chicago Booth School of Business and Stanford
Law School. Starting February 2010, I visit at a small college in
central New Jersey.

Another indefatigable scholar, Alex Garvin, writes,

WW Norton this spring will publish my new book Public Parks, the Key to Livable Communities. Continue to teach at Yale, now in my 43d year. Recently designed a 110-acre park for Collierville, Tennessee, and a 900-acre subdivision for Austin. Texas.

From (Dr) Paul Wortman:

I’m a retired prof. who specialized in the assessment of new medical interventions. In a previous life I was a Professor at The University of Michigan–Ann Arbor, School of Public Health. My wife is a Professor of Social/Health Psychology here at Stony Brook U. She’s currently the main blogger for the PBS website dealing with grief and loss.

Paul had this letter to the Editor of the NY Times published on Dec 24th:

Re “Senate Passes Health Care Overhaul Bill”
Christmas came just in the St. Nick of time for the Senate as it finally passed the major health care reform bill. The whiners may yet complain about not finding the public option in their stocking, and the Scrooges may fret about the costs, but the bill follows the Millsian principle of providing the greatest good for the greatest number. It is truly in the spirit of the season that celebrates human compassion and charity. And for that, I say hallelujah.

From Tony Brooks in the mountains of Wyoming:

It was one of those years that seemed to fly past faster than usual. Was it our age, the strange rhythm of weather, or something else? Whatever the cause, it felt like a new low in time-management skills. Nonetheless, the birth certificates don’t lie, and we are in a year of numbers divisible by five- our 70th birthdays and 45th anniversary. It feels like a Lewis and Clark expedition, unexplored territory and exciting.

Winter was largely here on the mountain. We have a new tram, twice the capacity and faster, and had the good luck of 500+ inches of snow. Did our annual trip, probably 20 or 25 of these, to Canada for a week of heli-skiing. In March, the terror of the Town Downhill. All in, a great winter which allowed us some respite from the Country’s woes and the world’s financial system and the stock market.
Spring started normally with a trip down to Florida to see friends and family, and an unsuccessful repair to the golf swing. A fishing adventure in Yellowstone Park and another memorable trip on the Smith River. We danced between the raindrops in June, and only biking was really affected. It is unusual out here for that month, but how green it was through the summer, a rarity at this altitude. Leith and Stew had Brooke, a third daughter, and Linda went West for that- anyone surprised?
Summer was a short affair after June. Rivers were very high with run-off flows, and fishing the big water was no option. A trip to the east coast, Rhys and Mandy and kids, a special day at the Lake cabin, far too seldom these days. A spectacular fishing adventure in Yellowstone Park, followed by an equal experience on the Blackfoot River (setting for Norman Maclean’s classic) in Montana. We enjoy fishing on foot, and these were the stuff of memories.
Fall. If we ran a vineyard, it would have been a vintage bust. October forgot the concept of Indian Summer. Squeezed in two upland bird trips (got wet again), followed by visits to both coasts, producing total emersion for Linda with the g-kids.

At this writing, we are about to embark on a trip with everyone for a week in celebration of family and numbers divisible by five. (We must be getting old to leave in the ski season!) As an update, “everyone” is Rhys and Mandy and Berkeley 10, Olivia 8, Keeley 5 and Rhys 1, and Leith and Stew with Haley 8, Annie 5 and Brooke 9 mos. Counting the girls, we now have a women’s hockey team, and finally, a coach. Sounding like a bewildered grandparent, it is awesome how fast they grow and change. We are fortunate and grateful, to say the least.

We wish you a very Merry Christmas and an improved New Year, and may God bless you, each and everyone.

Just before press time, we were happy to have a news-full bulletin from Lew Spratlan, who like many of us keeps very busy post-retirement. He writes:

My opera LIFE IS A DREAM will receive its world premiere and four additional performances at the Santa Fe Opera, on July 24 and 28, and August 6, 12, and 19. All old friends will be warmly welcomed. A SUMMER’S DAY was premiered last May by the Boston Modern Orchestra Project. IN MEMORIAM and STREAMING were recently released on a Navona CD. And I’m at work on an anthem celebrating the 150th anniversary of the Yale Glee Club, on a text by Elizabeth Alexander, the wonderful Yale-based poet who created such interest with the stirring poem she wrote for Barack Obama’s inauguration. The anthem will be premiered as part of the YGC’s 150th anniversary celebration in February 2011 at Woolsey Hall.

Since my retirement from Amherst College in 2006 I’ve been busy full-time with composing and traveling around getting pieces put on. Melinda just retired after 40 years of teaching singing at Mount Holyoke College. Our main residence is still Amherst, but we spend much time at our hilltop retreat on the Vermont border in the tiny (pop. ca. 300) town of Rowe, Mass. We’ve enjoyed annual Tanglewood rendezvous with the Stewarts, Kaestles, and Sipples and have welcomed many old friends to our place in Rowe.

Back to This Just In: January ‘10 – Page 1 || Back to Yale ‘62 Home

Al Chambers
Ann Arbor, MI

The annual AYA Assembly again was an upbeat occasion, this time held November 19-21. The organization, under the leadership of Mark Dollhopf, is energetic and proud. The way Dollhopf puts it, “AYA are the friendsters, Development are the fundraisers.” With that in mind, AYA organizes and supports a growing list of global, national and local activities to spread the word about Yale and bring Alumni together.

Overseas trips to share AYA’s ideas and skill in planning with other universities remain a highlight and a good fit with Yale’s international initiatives. Classmates Dave Hummel and Dan Koenigsberg were members of the group that visited Japan last summer. Their trip was featured with photos by Cindy Hummel in our October web site posting. Dave and Dan were at the AYA Assembly in November as part of a host group for 40 Alumni leaders from several Japanese universities visiting Yale. I sat with them at dinner where they confirmed how much fun they had on the trip and how worthwhile they felt these exchanges were. The 2010 Global Alumni Leadership Exchange (GALE) will be to Turkey July 16-31. All Alumni can join these trips, which are well-planned but clearly not inexpensive.

Other programs included in 2010 AYA planning are Feb Club Alumni get- togethers around the country and the world in February; another Yale Day of Service May 15; an Entertainment Shared Interest Group program in Hollywood in March; “Bulldogs Across America” programs in an increasing number of cities, offering service internships to Yale undergraduates while supporting local initiatives; and for the more venturesome and fit, the second annual Yale Alumni Runners marathon. This year Omsk is the location following up on the 2009 run in Iceland.

When I received the announcement for the 2009 AY Assembly and saw that the main theme was “Transformational Dialogue: Spiritual and Religious Engagement at Yale and in the World,” I have to admit that I was surprised at the selection. But Yale knows how to organize a meeting and of course offer interesting speakers from both the faculty and the student body. The 400+ Alumni attending the sessions applauded the program and actively joined in. University Chaplain Sharon Kugler described the changing religious and spiritual landscape at Yale. Her role is to work with and support all religious groups. The Chaplain no longer also serves as the pastor of the University Church at Battell Chapel. The student panel was made up of a Protestant, a Catholic, an Orthodox Jew and a Hindu. They all emphasized how important religious life had been to them during their time at Yale and how welcoming the University had become to all faiths.

President Levin’s luncheon report on the University, delivered in Commons, admitted that 2008-2009 had been a rough year financially. He explained that the University was forced to suspend and delay many important projects including the two additional residential colleages. Nonetheless, he asserted, “Despite the gloomy news, Yale is in great shape. Yale has the finest undergraduate facilities in the country. We are stronger than we were five years ago, and we will be stronger in five years.”

Our meeting came only a few weeks after the tragic murder of the graduate assistant. Levin described how deeply affected the University was but also explained that he considered the University’s safety program including in that particular high security lab to be well planned and administered.

Clearly taking his annual meeting with Alumni leaders seriously, President Levin articulated 11 goals dividing them into areas where Yale wants to maintain its leadership and others where improvement is needed.

1. “Yale College is best. We win most competitions. We do the most for undergraduates. It has to be preserved.”

2.  “The nexus of strength is arts and social sciences. These schools and departments lead. Humanities and social sciences are all in the top three or five.”

3. “The Law School is unquestionably the best in the country but has lost a few key faculty in the past few years. It needs to do more internationally.”

4. “Science and engineering. It takes decades but there is real progress.”

5. “We have a great Medical School but the clinical side lags some of the top competition. That includes Harvard and Johns Hopkins.”

6. “The School of Management is poised for a real take off following development of a revised curriculum. The construction of a new campus will happen but is frozen for now.”

7. “We have a new Dean at the School of Environment and Forestry. The connections with Arts and Sciences will continue to grow. Our Green House Gas footprint is meant to be among the world leaders. We will have a cogeneration plant, but that too is frozen for the moment.”

8. “We will continue to expand our International leadership initiative. There is the possibility of an undergraduate collage in Singapore to attract Asian students. China was an early focus. Now India also is a focus and we have added India emphasis to the curriculum.”

9. “The New Haven gains need to be protected during this difficult recession. Yale is the biggest downtown landlord.”

10. “The West Campus is more an instrument than a goal. It can help us achieve Science and Engineering goals and the interdisciplinary programs with Arts and Sciences.”

11. “We want to double down on creating a culture of managerial excellence. Every student and faculty member is carefully studied. We need to have the same emphasis on staff.”

Following the prepared material, President Levin answered a number of written questions that had been submitted in advance. My question was among those selected. I reminded President Levin that at last year’s meeting when the Great Recession still was developing he used a sports analogy that Yale had done the best on offense and would also do the best on defense. Did he still feel the same way after such severe losses in endowment? The President smiled at remembering his comment but said he still felt the same way. The commitments in the goals were still in place including those where delay was necessary. And he reminded the audience that despite the huge $6.5B loss in 2008 and another sub par performance in 2009, Yale’s investment performance over the past 15 years still was among the best in the nation.

By the way — The idea of instituting cohort Reunions for classes who were in school in the same time frames, which might have had some impact on the our 50th Reunions, has been put on hold. If and when AYA proceeds on this interesting idea, they are likely to start with classes who graduated later than we did. In other words, younger people seem likely to be more responsive to an important change like this. At our Class Council Meeting last year, there was virtually no support for the idea.

I certainly look forward to the AYA Assembly. Spending a few days on campus talking with students, faculty and alumni is a refreshing experience.

Al’s email: alchambers@comcast.net

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